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Dearest Husband [Consort AU] Pt. II

FEATURING : PRINCE DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x CONSORT male reader

Disaster comes to rain on our beloved couple. Feelings, ego and pride crashing together and in the midst of it all Daisuke stands firm to fight for the person of his desires. How would it end? Would he be able to finally declare his affections for his convenient wedded husband? His back turned against the world, (m/n) surpressing his feelings, hidden from sight. Will our prince win in the war of love?

17k words of something. no spoilers, proceed at ur own risk, part 1, profile

Find out more under the cut!

Three months had passed….

And our beloved prince of the Eastern Empire, Daisuke Yuichi, could say he was content with his life. His body was great, the people were well, his preparations for ascension was still ongoing and delayed on his part. His marriage especially, was the highlight of his life.

The moans were not discrete, a sultry (h/c) clinging onto the prince, clenching his outer coat while roughly making out with him. Daisuke held onto his waist, one of his hands slowly cupping his ass as he thrusted his tongue inside the consort. (m/n) sucked his tongue, teasingly biting it as they continued their rough affair. They had been taking a walk, in Daisuke’s private garden in the Grand Palace when one of them randomly decided they needed a fresh face fuck.

Luckily, the Royal Palace itself was massive, holding many estates across numerous acres of land. The highlights were the Grand Palace, where the royals resided, Daisuke’s office, the treasury, the throne hall were located. The second but still as grandeur was the Emerald Palace. Its main function was to act as the living quarters of the emperor’s harem, but after the birth of Daisuke Yuichi, his father, the current emperor had divorced all of his spouses except for the previous emperor.

It holds beautiful castles, the famous greenhouse, small lakes with boats and regularly social outdoor parties was held there, Currently, the lavish consort of the crown prince, (m/n) (l/n) became the sole tenant of the Emerald Palace, to which he had secretly waivered the loyalties of its attendants to his reign, Daisuke had suspicions but he would let his favourite and only consort to do so.

Speaking of the consort, their relationship had improved drastically. (m/n) would visit his chambers every three days, and Daisuke visiting his every two. During the day, the (h/c) could be found lounging in Daisuke’s office, not even bothering him or snooping around but to sleep, read, or doing his own hobbies.

Seeing how often (m/n) would lay in front of the fireplace, Daisuke had a custom maroon sofa, with golden stands and plush armchairs, soft padding and an abundant of pillows so his consort could drape himself over the furniture however he’d like. He was satisfied just watching from his desk, how the (h/c) would munch on sweets, flipping a page from his book and he caught himself smiling so often embarrassingly.

They have yet to own a shared room in the Grand Palace, that was reserved for the position of the emperor and his own spouses, so they resorted to have their enticing affairs in Daisuke’s chambers. He adored making love to the (h/c), they were extremely compatible in bed. With Daisuke’s passion and (m/n)’s lust combined, many pleasurable nights had passed, although at the expense of the passing attendants, Daisuke’s knight hates them now.

The aftermath was sweet, he found the (h/c) would cling to him, desperate for skin-to-skin contact as grounding after their mind-shattering sex and he would provide comfort. Wrapping his arms around the consort protectively before drifting off to sleep.

However, he noted that at times, the consort was cold. Sleeping by facing the other way, and when he inquired the (h/c) would brush him off dismissively and Daisuke would just silently hug him from behind. The day after, (m/n) would pretend like that little bit didn’t happen, acting like his usual self. They didn’t have much pillow talk, (m/n) rejected the idea as he shushed him to enter their slumber.

He wasn’t sure how he felt, something had festered in his heart. After their rough consummation, he would see (m/n) walk around with a medical patch on the back of his neck, where he had bitten his nape. Daisuke felt extremely guilty and would dress him in lavish to satisfy his guilt. Had his guilt dragged behind him for this long?

Every time he’d gazed over the consort, when the (h/c) wasn’t looking, there was a longing in his heart, just to wrap his hold around (m/n) affectionately.

He thought his marriage would only be one of peace, but he didn’t expect himself to fall…

Fallen. Bewitched? He brushed the thought off of his mind, not wanting to be dizzy for much longer as he placed down the quill on his desk.

Stacks of letters, invites from other powerful houses, some foreign, mostly his subjects, and invite to their own parties, social events and some even included details of potential suitors, mostly daughters of dukes and counts. Ever since he married (m/n) (l/n), it seemed that the public thought he was open to a harem, given the fact that him and (m/n) couldn’t produce an heir.

His emotions that once fluttered around the (h/c), brewed fire in his heart as he burned the letters, throwing it into the crackling flame as fuel for the hearth, He looked behind him to see the consort sleeping in his designated sofa, a soft blanket loosely draped over his figure.

Daisuke walked over to the (h/c), his steps silent as he crouched in front of the sleeping consort’s face. His eyes glazed over the consort’s features, his eyes, his lips and even to the bridge of his nose…

He pondered how could such a being could appear so beautiful in his eyes, heavenly, bewitching, distinguished and so many words in all of the dictionaries couldn’t even describe how majestic he was to the prince.

Nightfall was encroaching and usually he would carry the consort in his arms, letting him sleep in his room, but he wanted to be selfish this time. Fully absorbing, sketching and engraving this memory into his mind.

It seemed he had taken too much of (m/n)’s whine, who had awakened, stretching his arms and lazily blinking his drowsy eyes. “…Princey?” Daisuke chuckled, now kneeling on the carpet. “Morning, sleeping beaut’.” “…Is it actually morning?” The consort propped himself, glancing at the uncovered windows before dropping himself back on the sofa, seeing that it was actually night instead.

“You sure took your time.” “I am quite tired today…” (m/n) mumbled, covering his face with his arm. Daisuke raised an eyebrow at his ironic statement. “Tired? And here I was, dying at my desk. If I had been pronounced dead, you’d probably be on your third nap.”

“Not my fault.” The (h/c) groggily whacked his shoulder. “I want to sleep more…” He was in a daze, rolling himself off the couch, the prince calmly catching him in his arms and in the safety blanket of Daisuke Yuichi, (m/n) (l/n) dropped his whole bodyweight on his husband.

“You’re heavy. Have you been gaining weight?’ Daisuke kissed the consort, teasing him and instead earning a slap, playful but the message was received, and he laughed, the (h/c) trying to clamber away from him but the prince held him tight, screaming apologies into his ear.

“I’m hungry.” (m/n) stated, his stomach grumbled following their short wrestle. Daisuke was hugging him from behind, both of them tangled in the blanket on the carpeted floor.

“Want to have dinner? I can call your favourite chef to be on duty.”

(m/n) thought about it for a moment, before shaking his head. “I just want to have a snack. And get drunk.” Daisuke thought back to when the last time the (h/c) got drunk. They ended making out in one of the trees in the garden at the dead of night. How did the consort managed to convince him? God knows. It was probably the profound bias he had for the (h/c).

“…I can take you to my favourite tavern. It’s on the outskirts of town. The place is safe, with good drinks.” “Sold.” “We’d have to disguise ourselves, however. And that means, leaving all your jewellery behind.”

There was a mocking grumble, copying his speech from the consort. Daisuke only rolled his eyes, “This is how you get caught so easily. Come on.” He heaved himself up, pulling the consort with him as they get dressed blandly, hiding under the hood of their cloaks.

Daisuke had remembered something, quickly snatching one of his small wooden boxes and shoving the item inside his vest before joining the (h/c) at the gates, only a few guards accompanying them with a less lavish carriage that carried no insignia of their royalty as they traversed to town.

It took a while for them to arrive, a bustling tavern with customers in and out of its entrance, most of them leaving with a drunken flush on their faces. Daisuke held (m/n)’s hand as he stepped off the carriage, making sure their hoods were intact and waving at his guards, them nodding and getting into position to guard the place. Usually, Daisuke wouldn’t bring so many personnel with him, only him and his knight would do but since (m/n) was with him, a little extra security wouldn’t hurt.

The two entered the tavern, made their way to an empty table and called for a servant for their orders. A woman, who seemed to be in her late 20s and dressed a bit too exposed for the cold night took their orders and winked at the (h/c). A foreigner was always deemed attractive to the commonfolk.

(m/n) just laughed at the annoyed prince as their orders arrived, the consort immediately chugging the big glass of alcohol in front of him. “You said you don’t drink often.” Daisuke placed one of the tidbits into his mouth, staring at the dazed consort.

“I don’t…” His words were slurred. “But when I do, I drink hard.”

“…Whatever that means.” Daisuke stopped (m/n) from slapping his glass off the table as he pulled out the wooden box from earlier. “I thought this would be an appropriate time to present to you something…although I’m not sure you’re even sane enough to interpret my words.”

(m/n) wrinkled his nose, his face heating up from the alcohol as he slammed his fist on the table. “Hit me.” The prince only chuckled at his antics as he placed the small chest on the table, sliding it to the (h/c). “Open it.”

He grabbed the box, fiddling with the lock for a moment before managing to open its contents. The box itself was small, he thought he was about to receive another set of earrings from the prince but instead there was a skeleton key.

A pure bronze ornate key, with red highlights around the stem, a sharp bit and a small gem latched in the middle of the bow. (m/n) scanned the key confusingly. “…Is this supposed to unlock a bigger present or…?”

“You could say that.” Daisuke seemed excited, for his reaction it seemed, as he pulled out a cylinder leather case and (m/n) wondered how multifunctional his garments was. The (h/c) popped the cap off and shook out the scroll inside. He pinched the edges with his hands as he tried to make sense of the wordings of the paper.

“…A deed?” “Your summerhouse is complete.”

The (h/c) raised his hand at the smiling prince, who seemed like a child, giddy to give a present. “Summerhouse?” “The one you wanted. Beside a lake near the borders, took a while for construction to finish. Of course, that is the key to the gates instead of the mansion itself since the furbishing needed to be done along with a stampede of servants for maintenance.”

The villa that (m/n) had requested way back. Even after he received the treasure chest for the prince, he didn’t continue forward with his plans. Not after the whole incident.

“…But why?” The consort seemed confused, examining the key in his hand before Daisuke grasped his other.

“Consider it my first gift to you as my husband.” With that, the prince kissed the back of his hand, pressing his lips gently onto his skin. (m/n) was still stunned. There were so many presents the prince had gifted to him, but this was far more outstanding than any other.

“…I’m so confused.” “Do you not like the present?” “I do. It’s just…”

(m/n) didn’t finish his sentence, instead downing more alcohol into his system as he placed the key back into the box. Daisuke didn’t press further, the (h/c)’s flustered expression was more than enough to satisfy him.

They continued to drink, (m/n) ordering more than he could handle and it ended up with him hugging the prince at his waist as they exited the tavern. The alcohol was a rush, a good chunk of it in their system and it led to the consort whispering to the prince he needed him as they had a frisky amour in the moving carriage.

After sloppily covering up themselves, they continued in Daisuke’s bedroom, the prince thrusting into the consort, both with drunken pleasure. Daisuke held the headboard of his bed, caging the (h/c) under him as he came inside (m/n) missionary. He plopped himself on top of the consort unceremoniously, (m/n) whining about his sensitive hole still clenching around his cock.

The prince rolled off of him, laying by his side, basking in the afterglow of their misdemeanours. (m/n) sighed heavily, feeling full as he pulled the duvet beside him up to his chest. Daisuke turned to his husband and brushed the strands of hair out of his sweaty face. He gently pulled the (h/c) closer to him and closed his eyes, prepared to drift off to sleep.

“…I don’t understand…”

He opened one of his eyes, in the dark room, barely anything could be seen but it was evident the (h/c) was still drunk, Daisuke having a higher tolerance from his poison resistance buildup, and he was mumbling in a daze. “What do you not understand?” He simply entertained the intoxicated fool.

He smoothened the (h/c) hair, tucking it behind (m/n)’s ear as he inched closer to the consort. “…Whether do you have…an attraction for me…or is it to simply keep the peace.”

Keeping the peace? Even Daisuke couldn’t fully fathom what the mumbling consort was trying to transpire. “…Of course I have an attraction for you. Who wouldn’t?”

An idiot. He thought. Only an idiot wouldn’t fall for him.

“…This peace we have…it’s grounding me together…my sanity…”

(m/n) groggily creaked his eyes open.

“If I had truly been your preference, you wouldn’t have scrapped the idea of your beloved fairytale.”

With that, the (h/c) sank his head into the lush pillow, pushed into the realm of dreams. In contrast with the prince, his statement hit him like a brick. “My fairytale…” He thought back to before. There was only once where he had brought it up, but it had been so long back.

He felt restless, something aching in his heart, but he remained silent, drifting away to sleep.

In his mind, he wondered if he was slowly being smitten by the consort. There was a chance of it happening of course, they had been wed together but the impact was strong, he never felt anything like this in his life. And to think he cares so much about his consort.

His hold around the (h/c) remained strong as he subjected his mind into the abyss.

After that night, he found that the consort wouldn’t come to his office as often, distancing himself from the prince albeit his protests claiming that everything was alright. Daisuke felt a cold clench in his chest. As if there was a wall, slowly building up between him and his consort, every time he had become vulnerable, (m/n) would distance himself away. It pained Daisuke to see him hurt. He didn’t want that for both of them.

Maybe if he had spoken more, both of them would be much more open with each other.

Alas, all he could was to wait for the storm in (m/n)’s heart to subside. He had been patient with his bratty behaviour in the past, he can wait for him to mentally recover as long as he’d liked.

It had been a week and a half since, as much as Daisuke would like him to recover, his heart was longing for the consort. So, he decided to visit him alone in the Emerald Palace. The guards stationed there bowed to him, letting him pass with him requesting that they do not announce his arrival, it was a good decision to switch the paladins. Ones that are much more loyal to him.

He had heard that the (h/c) was strategically integrating himself into the Eastern society, mingling with the wives of the powerful, attending balls and parties, as per Ivan had reported to him. Although he was a bit sulky that he wasn’t tagged along, he could invite him to theirs. A ball at the Grand Palace, orchestrated for the holiday in the East. It would be good for him to show off his consort to the nobles.

Cue the yelling and pleadings, snagging Daisuke’s attention as he immediately ran through the halls, reaching (m/n)’s room where there were butlers and maids crowding around the door. The prince pushing himself through and as they noticed him, they all exclaimed, urging him not to enter.

As he pushed the doors open, there were two guards, carefully approaching the (h/c), whose hand was bloody, a stark red in contrast to the mint marble floor. “Your Grace! Please just-!”

“I said LEAVE! LEAVE ME ALONE!!” The knight swiftly avoided an ornament box thrown into his direction, he didn’t hear the shattering of the impact on the floor, so he turned to see-

“You…why are you here…” (m/n) scowled, his teeth gritting, clenching his soaked fist.

Daisuke frowned, his eyebrows furrowed as he ordered the guards to leave. He scanned the (h/c)’s frenzied state, his outer coat tossed somewhere else and his red-coated hand.

“What happened?” He stated firmly, stepping to the consort.

The (h/c) defensively stepped back, behind him was his vanity, broken with a large crack in the middle. The table itself was a mess, he presumed the consort had used it to shoo away the knights. “You don’t need to know.” (m/n) seethed.

“Why are you hurt?” “Leave.” He stepped closer. “(m/n), I’m trying to help-“ “LEAVE!”

“I’m NOT LEAVING! Goddammit (m/n)-!” For every step he took forward, every step the (h/c) backed away, pressing himself against one of the shelves, leaving bloody trails on the furniture from his hand.

It seemed the consort was desperate enough, he started to chuck things to him as well, Daisuke swiftly avoided the barrage of intricate, one of them was a fucking vase holy shit-, and he was closer to the destructive, pained (h/c). “You’re hurt. You’re bleeding for fuck’s sake- I’m not leaving you like this.”

A raw sob tore from (m/n)’s throat, tears slipping down his cheeks as he exclaimed to the prince once again. “Please…I told you to leave!” It was a short altercation, one that involved Daisuke quickly restraining (m/n), holding his wrists together. The consort screamed, kicked and yelled at him, all with his bleeding hand and wet cheeks. This was the worst state Daisuke had ever seen.

He struggled with the consort’s hysteria, ultimately pushing him against the walls, caging him with himself. (m/n) seemed to be out of breath, still crying with his hands held together above his head. Daisuke gazed into his avoiding eyes, worriedly.

“…you’re in pain. Let me help you.”

True to his words, aside from the bloody hand, (m/n) was very much in pain. The (h/c) stared at the floor, silently sobbing. His tears falling from his lower lashes. “…you can’t help me…you’re going to cast me aside…”

“I wouldn’t. I would never.” Leaving the consort was the last thing on his mind. How could he possibly abandon the man he held dear in his heart.

“You will.” (m/n) scoffed, he coughed into the air, his throat aching. “You ought to be a trashy bastard like all the others-!”

“Who?! Who fed this mindset to you?!” He knew (m/n) recently came back from a jamboree, his garments were also an indicator. Did something happen at one of the parties?

“Who dared to ruin you like this!”

“…” (m/n) was quiet, at first. He mumbled nimbly, before finally dropping his bodyweight down, slowly sliding himself to sit on the floor. The prince followed suit, kneeling and sitting onto his own calves, his tight grip was replaced with a gentle hold on the consort’s hands, his eyes silently examining the blood before returning back to the consort who began to tell, confiding in his beloved husband.

(m/n) silently sipped from his wine glass, there were chattering all around at the beautifully lit party. It had been another aristocrats’ gathering, and he was invited so by the host, the Countess, the Earl’s wife and she was a pleasant old woman who treated him like most of the peerage. Curiosity and flatter, complimenting him trying to curry his favour and overall, an attempt to get closer to the crown prince since the emperor was known to be closed off regarding his sole heir.

Many people had gone up to him, either to chat or to tease and (m/n) rebutted it with his own charm, having been used to witty remarks especially during his time in the West. Later in the party, he spent some time alone, drinking to himself, rejecting any company.

Until one of them was bold enough to approach him.

It was an old man, dressed wisely and formally. (m/n) recognised him to be one of the ministers as he bowed his head to the consort. He had a look in his eyes the (h/c) recognised. Something scheming and devious mixed together behind a veil of unconcealed flagrant.

He responded little to the older one’s chat, only speaking when he needed to when a remark slipped out of his mouth.

“You are one arrogant little cunt.”

“…Excuse me?” (m/n) raised an eyebrow, already feeling heated in his head. Who had dared to speak to him in such a manner? The old man only smiled, his slanted eyes glaring at the consort. “I’m sorry, did my tongue slip? I didn’t mean to offend you in any way.”

“…” (m/n) knew what he had heard, and he wasn’t going to accept this disrespect to his face. He wanted to leave until another approached them, and another, and another until there were many men surrounding him, all dressed in similar attires that was forcing him into a corner.

“I want to leave-“

“It seemed the rumours were true.”

“No wonder the Western Emperor despised him.”

They all ignored him, standing firm in front of him as (m/n) felt he got backed into a corner. He gritted his teeth and yelled for a guard, but the barrage of nuisance prevented him so.

Pointed jabs, back handed compliments were passed. He was scrutinized to his face while the men acted like he wasn’t there. As if they were dissecting him down to his bone, judging his background and reputation present in the kingdom.

“What a wicked man.”

“He’d bring only downfall to our kingdom.”

“A pest, rooted in the rich, clean East.”

“Someone needs to cut him down.”

“Slice him.”

“Burn his defences, let him rot in the mountains.”

“What does the crown prince see in him? There’s so many like him in the cathouse.”

Amidst the passing comments, (m/n)’s patience was ripped from his head.

“…you’d think I give a fuck?” He stared at the man who had originally approached him. “I don’t care how much you try to scheme or attempt to intimidate me. I am the consort, husband of the crown prince.”

(m/n) scoffed at them. “Your precious prince favours me and that is a fact in itself.”

The old man stared back at him with a scowling glare. “You’re a pest to the kingdom…I presume you’re aware.”

The (h/c) only scoffed, smirking at him. “And what about it?”

“The harem is open. And you are unable to produce an heir. How long do you think you would be the sole keeper of the prince’s heart?”

And that hit the consort like a brick.

“I- “

“The kingdom needs an heir. The bloodline must be kept.”

“It doesn’t matter-“ He tried to counter but again flooded with remarks.

“It doesn’t matter to you. You are not of this kingdom. You are not our people, but we. We need a monarch. And if it wouldn’t come from you, it will come from another.”

“It’s about time the crown prince expanded his harem.”

(m/n) didn’t know why, but that sentence struck him the most. He had punched the man who had uttered those words, knocking him to the ground. Gasps of shock from other guests and the (h/c) was pulled away by his own guards. The trail of the men previously disassembled into the crowd, feigning innocence and the victim of his fist insisted he was dandy, that he was at fault for angering the consort, painting him as a hot-blooded bastard.

The consort left the party, not in the mood to converse any further despite the countess’ pleas. He returned to his chambers, tugging off his coat and the maids were preparing a bath for him since his return was at a short notice.

The (h/c) stared at the vintage rectangular mirror in front of him, gazing into himself, his furious expression looking back. The servants exchanged looks, some of worry and some of curiosity. (m/n) was too busy in his own thoughts to even reprimand them.

How long had he been the prince’s lover? No. Not lover. He couldn’t possibly be the object of his desires. If at most, then bedwarmer would be a better fitting for a heel like him.

The prince, his touch, his gaze, would he have to share them with someone else? A woman, perhaps. Someone able to carry his offspring.

It doesn’t matter. He thought, a pitiful attempt at convincing himself. It shouldn’t matter. Why would the prince’s love life be a meddling of his own? He’s satisfied with the things they are now. He’s supposed to be.

“How long do you think you would be the sole keeper of the prince’s heart?”

…did he even had a chance to embrace his love? Was there ever a moment that the prince, Daisuke, had shown his affection for him, without him thinking about the setbacks. Barely.

“…that fucking…”

Fairytale. Daisuke’s stupid fairytale. The one he told (m/n), the one where he expressed, he didn’t get to relive. A love story. Weren’t theirs supposed to become the upbringing of one? Was he so demure in the prince’s eyes that he wasn’t worthy of a possibility to fall for him?

“-Your Grace, the bath is read-“

A scream erupted from the girl, and (m/n) realised his knuckles were bleeding, and the mirror in front of him had broken.

“…Get out.”

“But Your Grace-!” “I said GET OUT!”

Not long after, Daisuke had arrived and that was how the whole commotion happened. Currently, they were alone, (m/n) sitting against a wall and Daisuke holding his bloody hand gently in his. He made sure there were no specks of glass in his knuckles.

The (h/c) had told him everything that happened at the party, except the aftermath, he didn’t confide of his troubling feelings regarding the prince.

“Who?” That was his first question uttered to the consort. “Who were they?” His voice bristled with anger, his composure gone with a gaze that was demanding an explanation from the consort, one that (m/n) didn’t return.

The words hung heavy in the air, laced with conflict. “…I don’t want to think about it any longer.” “(m/n), you need to tell-“ “I need to cool off…I need to think to myself.”

Daisuke’s expression slumped into a deep frown. The consort seemed so fragile, as if he could break at any moment. “I’ll-“ “By myself…I need to recollect myself.”

It seemed at the moment (m/n) finally registered the pain in his hand, causing him to wince in agony. As Daisuke gently held his wrist, taking out the cloth from his pockets to wrap around the wound. “If you let a doctor tend to your wounds, I’ll leave you for the day.” He gently kissed the now-wrapped hand. “But I’ll come to see you in the night.”

(m/n) stared at him for a moment, a blank look in his eyes before muttering. “Do what you like.”

And so, the sequence of events unfolded. A healer came to tend to the consort, maids came in to clean up the aftermath and Daisuke left. His gaze fixated at the closing door, but it wasn’t returned, (m/n)’s eyes downwards as he shut the tall doors in the prince’s face. Daisuke lingered for a moment before taking his leave. He requested Ivan to find the list of attendees of the countess’ party and asked him to send a mail to personally request for an audience with the Earl and his wife.

He wasn’t sure what to do. Politicians harassing his husband was the last thing he anticipated, he had let his guard down for too long. Being around (m/n) really made him feel like he had stepped into the heavens and he hadn’t noticed the sinking (h/c) that was descending into what seemed like hell for his husband.

When he stepped into the bath, he stared at the murky waters, and a hazy version of himself stared back. Me with another? He couldn’t possibly fathom the thought or imagine himself being with another. Be it a man or a woman. The second he had shared a bed with his consort, the ideal love story that had envisioned his mind as a kid had been scrapped.

“Fairytale…” Daisuke tried to pull a foggy memory from the back of his head.

(m/n) had mentioned it a few times. Had he been offended back then? It was just a passing comment. Why would the consort care as so, even he himself hadn’t declared any type of romance intentions to the prince-

Romance…The thought sent heat creeping up his neck, as opposed to the chilly water surrounding his body. Glancing at himself in a mirror, he found his face to be completely flushed, rosy hues decorating his pale cheeks. He didn’t even notice when his expression had changed into one of embarrassment. The prince felt bashful for a moment as he cupped his face with his palms sighing into them.

The prince's mind was consumed with thoughts of the consort— the joyful moments spent basking in his smile, his contagious laughter, and his endearing bratty mannerisms. Yet, the most heart-wrenching moments were those filled with sadness, when he witnessed the consort's tears and heard his anguished cries, or when the consort had pushed him away.

Daisuke’s soft cheeks filled the crevices of his rough tattered palms. His upper lashes fluttering, catching small droplets of water.

He was in love. In love with (m/n) (l/n).

And in that very moment, Daisuke realised that the (h/c) was no longer a mere consort he was forcefully wedded to, instead he was his husband, a man he had come to yearn, to love for.

Daisuke made his way to the Emerald Palace again that night. He was dressed more casually, in a long white creamy robe and his mind was free from heavy thoughts as he dismissed his escorts and knocked on the door. He half-expected his husband to lock him out for the rest of the night but to his surprise, the door was pulled slightly ajar just after his third knock.

Footsteps left the door, and he heard shuffles on the bed. He pushed the door open and shut it behind him and upon entering, he found that all of the curtains were closed and the only source of light was from the lit candle on the dresser. On the bed, (m/n) was laying on his side facing away from him. Daisuke silently went to the edge of the bed and climbed over to him. Shifting the blankets under him, he laid and curled himself into (m/n)’s back, wrapping his arm around his husband’s midsection, spooning him from behind.

Seeing the (h/c) was quiet, the prince remained silent as well, rubbing his thumb into (m/n)’s sleepwear before muttering.

“Regarding the fairytale…I never meant for it to represent my desire, my desire of which I want it to come to life..”

“…”

The response from (m/n) was a deafening silence, Daisuke continued.

“I didn’t…plan nor hope for any of it to actually happen. My father, he didn’t have the best relationship with the previous Empress, and I wish for my marriage to be different, to be ideal.” The ravenette thought of his mother that now only existed as a passing thought.

“But I never expected for us to happen. A marriage of convenience. At first, all I wished for was peace with my suitor. But the more I got to know you,” He kissed the shell of (m/n)’s ear.

“I’m happy you were my spouse. And I don’t care about some plot anymore. All I want is you.”

“…you don’t…don’t tell me this…”

(m/n)’s voice was strained and raw. Had he been crying again?

“I don’t want to know…I don’t want to care anymore…”

Daisuke nuzzled his hair with his nose, breathing in the scent of lavender present in his strands. “Why are you so scared?” He whispered softly.

“I’m not scared, I’m being realistic.” (m/n) seemed defiant, hinted with a twinge of shakiness.

“You are. I won’t look at anyone else. Yet you still fret.”

“I keep pushing you away. I’m a selfish man. I’m destructive and you know it.”

His tone sounded dead, like he was tired of it all. The prince’s grip on his husband was firm.

“Even if you are, we’ll persevere. We can work through it.”

“We won’t. You will give up on me. You will forget me.”

His dark eyebrows furrowed, nuzzling more into (m/n)’s nape, frowning at the indication.

“Now why would you even consider that happening…”

There was no universe where he would even think of abandoning him yet (m/n) kept dwelling on the possibility-

“Because that’s what I did to all the others.”

Daisuke became quiet as a heavy silence descended upon the room. His tongue wouldn’t move. The prince was at a loss of words. With that, (m/n) let out a pained sigh as he continued.

“My past lovers…I got bored and left. What if karma comes back to punish me?”

“…It won’t. Not through me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you.”

The (h/c)’s body went rigid in his hold as the prince took a deep breath, his hands now clammy, growing damp with a nervous sweat.

With a tremulous voice, Daisuke confessed. “I’ve come to realised that I have loved you. For some time now.” He noticed his voice was shaky, and the consort was holding in his breath.

“I have feelings for you. Ones that…I’ve never felt for and unlike any other. And ones that I want to keep. So please… don’t drive yourself to sickness over me…” His hold tightened around the consort, a silent plea. “I won’t leave us. Not now. Not ever.”

The tension was high in the room, the air taut with an undercurrent of unease, even in the comfort of their bedding. Daisuke buried his face into his husband’s shoulder, his heart racing, waiting anxiously for (m/n)'s response to his confession.

“…okay.” And that was all he received before it became silent again. A sense of worry lingered in his heart but he forced himself to sleep, not achieving a conclusion for the night.

But he would find himself awakened to an empty bed tomorrow once more.

The prince stared at the empty spot beside him, with hazy eyes as he rubbed his face with a twinge of annoyance. He ought to lock his husband up if this keeps occurring. He got off the bed and snagged a maroon robe on, a white undershirt and black pants with some casual boots as he exited the chambers to find the (h/c).

Daisuke asked the knights stationed outside where the consort was, and they reported that he went to get some air, accompanied by his own sets of guards somewhere in the courtyard and that’s where Daisuke went.

As his feet led his steps, the heels clacking against the painted concrete, he thought of what to say, how to coax his husband. In his mind there were many things circulating as well, the West Emperor, the Countess’ party, (m/n)’s past lovers…Fuck. He’s already feeling jealous at the mention of an ex-lover.

But now, his marriage is on the rocks. And he would do anything to save his relationship. For the (h/c), for him and for the both of them. He found a pair of paladins, watching over a scenery and he went up to them, asking where the (h/c) is.

They point to where (m/n) is and he sees a lone figure staring into the distance, in the midst of a green field. He steeled his heart for the ultimatum of their marriage.

(m/n) stared at the green open scenery, his arms folded with only a moss green blanket over his shoulders with his previous sleepwear. Despite the tranquil expression on his face, his mind had a storm. And the storm was filled with memories of his life.

The second born of the dukedom. He was raised with the knowledge that he would never inherit the House of (l/n), especially from his relatives. Compared to his older brother, he grew up with spite although his parents showered him with presents and love, he was never satisfied, knowing that he'd never achieve the title of a Duke.

But he was a smart kid, so he studied people, studied psychology, how to manipulate, how to act. So he could use those around him for his own advantage. He used his parents, he used his brother, and it didn't help he developed his own charm so he had lovers, especially those rich ones with the promise of marriage and his unconditional love but all was empty.

As soon as the well was sucked dry, he left, letting them grovel at his feet, begging for him to return but he didn't spare a glance. (m/n) was having fun for himself, although he would get reprimanded by his brother once or twice but a slap on his wrist and he was already on his way to ruin someone else's life.

Deep down inside, he knew what he was doing was terrible, that no one deserved the kind of treatment he was giving, especially seeing those enchanted eyes that were bewitched by him. But he justified himself, saying that he did what he wanted because he had no other prospects due to his heritage, due to his circumstances.

And the one he hated the most...(m/n) never got close to the West crown prince. They had merely chatted once or twice but that was all it took for the Emperor to rain hell against him. His parents had backed him, his father who was still the Grand Duke and that seemed to put him off but alas, the news of his hand in marriage sold to the East for the promise of peace between the kingdoms.

(m/n) felt dread when he received the news, especially when he found out that his family couldn't even accompany his departure to his wedding, mostly hooked up with missions that all linked back to the royals and he knew that old scumbag was against him.

So he went, fooling with a few people before entering into a foreign world, an unpredictable marriage with a foreign prince. He could only bring a couple of maids and footmen that volunteered to journey along with him to the East and truthfully, that made him feel sick. Homesick.

He missed the safety of his home, the comfort of his parents and even the harsh but gentle reprimandings of his brother. They were what had been grounding him all his life.

So he acted out and so many things had happened and he got to know the prince. Was claimed by him viciously in a way that he lewdly enjoyed and for a moment he thought maybe he could have an actual life in the East- until the prince mentioned his stupid fairytale. What Daisuke couldn't experience. Love? Is he not enough?

Then, he realised what his past lovers had said and it seemed that he was in that feeble position he had spat at long ago. The thought of another consort in Daisuke's harem made him sick. So he pushed his feelings deep down, thinking that there would only be pain and disappointment if he were to bring them to light.

Now that Daisuke...his husband had confessed to him in the cold night, he didn't know what to say. How to even act. How to respond. But there was a sliver of thought that the prince didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve him.

But he wanted to cry if Daisuke would find someone else instead, to spend their time together, to sleep in the same bed. (m/n) should be the only one to do so, not anyone else no matter how many people demanded for an heir but he understood the responsibilities of a crown prince but he just couldn't bear the thought of-

"Fuck." He whimpered. It almost seemed impossible but he had fallen for the prince too.

But he couldn't. He shouldn't. He would only drive the prince to despair. He was a bitch to deal with, his mood swings, his temperament, his attitude.

He heard the shuffles of grass, light footsteps behind him. The (h/c) turned around to see the last person he wanted to see, Daisuke walking to him, (m/n)'s robe he had adorned flowing behind him. The cool sun and the morning fog almost made it seem romantic, he always had handsome features befitting of a prince.

Even with despair in his mind, he still found time to admire the prince. When Daisuke stopped in his tracks, they both stood facing each other, (m/n) being quiet and pulling the blanket in closer.

Daisuke was the first to speak.

"I woke up alone. Again." His tone seemed disappointed? Mundane. (m/n) wasn't sure. "I think at this point, I should be the one afraid of being abandoned."

If it had been any normal situation, the (h/c) would think the prince was being cheeky. But even the gardeners knew they were both tense at the moment.

"I needed some air. I brought the guards with me."

"Could've woken me up. I would've accompanied you."

He shook his head. "It'd be a bother." "It wouldn't."

Daisuke was quick to cut his sentence. "I wouldn't mind. I would have enjoyed spending time with you." "Stop pushing this matter."

"What matters? So you admit that there's something wrong with you?" His voice was raising and (m/n) felt mad at the moment. "Your Highness, don't do this to me now!"

"What? I can't call out your bullshit? You're so stubborn when it comes to compromising-" "For fuck's sake, it's still morning, even the fog hasn't gone away and we're already fighting! I don't understand why you think we'd be a good match!"

(m/n) felt his own voice shouting as well, garnering looks from the working servants.

"Of course we're going to fight! It's okay that we fight! Fighting is not necessarily a bad thing. That's just how we sort things out-" "You know I'm the reason we fight most of the time. Hell, I even disrespect you, the crown prince out of all people, yet YOU CALL ME STUBBORN BUT YOU'RE STILL WITH ME-"

"YES! I AM STUBBORN TOO! I call you out when you're being a fucking jackass and you come lashing back at me with a four-second recoil. We're hard to work with. So what?! We'll solve this. I want this and I want you-"

"You do not want me." (m/n) seethed, frustrated with Daisuke who was wiping his face with his hands, equally upset.

"I do. I want you."

"Nobody wants me." The (h/c) shook his head, keeping himself in denial. "Not like you."

Daisuke frowned. He pointed to (m/n), trudging closer to him. "I do. I crave for you. My body is a drought without you- not even the richest of waters can quench this thirst, my heart yearns no one else but you." The prince seemed desperate, desperate to get his message across (m/n)'s thick skull who couldn't fathom that someone could love him this much.

"You shouldn’t want that, you’re the prince for heaven’s sake- this is NOT RIGHT FOR YOU-!"

"And who are you to tell me what is right for me? Ever since you came here all you did was go against me and I persevered! I put up with your bullshit because that’s how much I fucking love you!"

"You do NOT LOVE ME! STOP TELLING YOURSELF THAT-"

"I DO!!" Daisuke screamed at him, something that even (m/n) thought he would never do, rendering him eye-wide and speechless. The prince continued his yelling.

"NOT EVEN THE ANGELS THEMSELVES CAN SING HATRED INTO MY HEART! NOT EVEN THE DAMNATION OF THE EARTH CAN SHATTER THE HOLD YOU HAVE ON MY MIND! I CONSTANTLY THINK OF YOU! YOU ARE A DISEASE TO MY LIFE! A DISEASE I DO NOT WANT TO BE CURED FROM! If I had to be a sick man to dedicate myself to loving you for the rest of my life then SO BE IT!"

(m/n)'s breath was stolen away, stolen by the prince's declaration. His passion for him, out of all people and Daisuke was heaving, his face almost turning red from his long exclamation in one single breath.

"I don’t understand…how can you…how can you proclaim such a thing for me…I don’t deserve this. This happiness. It sickens me. I don’t deserve you." Tears fell from his eyes unknowingly, he sobbed into his hand, confused on how could someone love him this much.

Strong arms wrapped around his figure, Daisuke hugging him and gently touching their foreheads together to comfort themselves. (m/n) was pushing him away again. "We can't...we shouldn't..." He mumbled through his cries.

He might be the most stubborn man Daisuke had ever met and he had enough of his crap.

(m/n) choked when Daisuke tugged his collar, pulling it up and shoving the (h/c) away. The prince glared at him through glassy eyes. "…if you despise me so much then push me away again. I shall leave."

The (h/c) shook his head fervently. "...I can't. I can't possibly-"

"I'm giving you a choice, Lord (l/n)." The use of his last name made (m/n)'s heart drop as he looked at Daisuke, his expression helpless. "A choice to choose between us…or you. If u oh so desire to not be loved by anyone, then say it again."

"Please don't...don't make me-"

"It shouldn't be hard for you. You always knew what you wanted." (m/n) was heartbroken as a tear dropped down Daisuke's cheek.

"And I know who I long for."

The (h/c) couldn't speak, only stammers and cries escaping his throat, his hands clawing at Daisuke's sleeve, begging him to not make him choose. He couldn't make Daisuke suffer, not after what he did, his past sins were haunting him at night, terrified that karma would murder him in his sleep.

But at the same time he wanted to be selfish. He wanted to keep the prince all to himself. He didn't want any other woman to be able to embrace Daisuke like how he would on their passionate nights. Undeniably, he yearned for his husband's touch no matter how much he repressed his feelings.

"I want you...I...I want you, Daisuke."

Daisuke's grip was shaky as (m/n) cried out for him. "I don't want to see anyone else with you...I'm greedy. I want you for myself..." The prince pulled him into his hold, both of them falling to their knees as the prince freely let his tears flow from his eyes.

"I love you. I love you so much." Daisuke sobbed as he hugged his husband. (m/n) nodding and burying his face into the prince's shoulder. "I'm not an easy person to live with." His worry was still creeping in his mind.

"If I have to go to war with you everyday, then I'll fight until my last breath." The ravenette kissed his temple, thanking the heavens in his heart. "I'm no good for you…" A croaky remark came out of the consort.

"Then call me a madman because you are the first thing I want to see in every waking breath and the last thing I want to see with my dying one." He pulled (m/n) to face him, both of their expressions teary. "I love you, (m/n). Not even my father can change that."

Daisuke pulled his husband into a kiss and for the first time, (m/n) wholeheartedly accepted the kiss, his heart opening and slowly filled to the brim. His hands grasped at the prince's back, desperate for comfort as Daisuke deepened the kiss.

Fuck, he actually felt happy at the moment.

They spent their time clinging onto each other, (m/n) crying apologies at the prince, Daisuke muffling his own tears as they laid together in the field. In his heart, he was glad, a burden lifted off his shoulders, that the consort finally opened his heart to him regardless of his constant objections. He was so happy he got to keep his lover with him

"What the fuck..." One of the guards that was watching over them sobbed into his gloved palm. "Our prince...I didn't even know..." The other man elbowed him in his side, he was hiding his own tears as well. "I told you not to fucking *sobs* look, you bastard."

Things were mostly peaceful after the confession. (m/n) resided mostly in his chambers, his hand was healing and he was getting lots of rest from his mania the other day. Daisuke often visits him, sleeping in his bed with him, his father even sent a get-well-soon bouquet and the consort felt embarrassed about the whole shenanigan.

He didn't want to think about those stupid politicians. Just the thought of them makes his blood boil despite Daisuke's pestered to spill their identities so he could 'do something'.

He received a letter from the Earl's wife, an apology from her guests' behalf for his upsetting and invited him for tea for reconciliation.

(m/n) didn't reply, but he suspected she would be coming to the ball tonight. A ball held in the Grand Palace, for a holiday occasion. One where (m/n) wasn't planning to go.

He rejected the idea, not interested in meeting the public again or for another stupid social event. Although Daisuke asked him over and over to come to the ball since he had to attend, he refused nonetheless.

So here he was, standing in the balcony of his room, staring at the lights lit up and the multitudes of horses and carriages surrounding the entrance of the Grand Palace. He wondered if Daisuke would be dancing with someone else at the ball.

He randomly glanced to the left, the far left of the side of the Emerald Palace, where the woods meet the edge of the property and he saw a glint. It was like a glint of metal, a sword maybe? He squinted his eyes to see random movement and there was uneasiness in his heart as closed his balcony doors, sliding into his duvet

Maybe it was the guards patrolling the area, although he knew most of them were stationed at the ball since gatherings of high society required more security.

Something was odd.

He pulled the door ajar, to call for a maid but immediately closed it back once he saw an unknown man dragging a body of an unconscious maid. More came flooding in the hall opening the rooms, all dressed in black carrying swords and he knew his life was in danger.

It was either an ambush or a kidnapping.

This wasn't a peculiar situation to him, he was the son of a duke, there were numerous attempts of kidnapping since he was young for ransom from his rich family. He understood the position of a consort made him a bigger target.

He locked his doors, threw the balcony doors open, grabbed a dagger from his bedside table and slid under his bed to hide. The dukedom had trained him since he was little, how to hide from kidnappers. His fighting skills may have been rusty, but it should hold until the other knights arrive nonetheless.

There were hush yelling outside until his door was kicked open. Three men came flooding into his room and they cursed when they saw the open balcony.

"He's escaped. Target's not in his palace." "Get the ground men to search for the courtyard. He couldn't have gotten far. Kill on sight."

Fuck, it was an ambush. To take his life. He held his breath under his bed as footsteps left his room, until one retracted and stepped towards his closet.

This one is slightly smart. (m/n) thought as his beautiful closet was pulled open roughly by the ruffian. He readied his dagger and stabbed him by the Achilles' heel once he kneeled to check under the bed.

(m/n) rolled out of his hiding spot and kicked the screaming man in his throat, knocking him back onto the closet, rendering him unconscious.

He quickly gathered his bearings as he gripped the bloodied dagger, leaving his room for safety. The consort trudged down the halls and cursed at himself once another assailant spotted him, yelling for his other accomplices as (m/n) ran for his life.

He ran past a few familiar faces, his maids and servants, even his knights were all unconscious and (m/n) rolled his eyes at their hapless circumstances.

He wanted to run down the stairs but eventually clambered up instead when more assailants were coming up. He heard yelling for backup, looks like some of his knights were finally coming to their senses and there were clashing of swords between the paladins and the ambushers.

(m/n) ran down another hall, attempting to exit through the West Wing but he was tackled by an assailant, knocking the wind out of his chest. He punched and kicked the unknown masked man, the man retaliating and swinging his sword to his face but (m/n) barely dodged it, his cheek now bleeding.

He stabbed the dagger deep into neck after a few more punches and the man fell to the floor, choking on his own blood. The consort hissed in pain, his side bruised from the jabbing of a hilt and he hoped reinforcements would just come already but he faltered seeing more assailants at the end of the hall, running to him.

He did the next best thing.

The shattering of a window cut through the air and (m/n) jumped out of the third floor.

His target was the large trees surrounding the palace but his grip faltered and he fell, landing on branch after branch, grunting and cursing after every hit until he fell to the dirt floor in an awkward position.

He huffed, taking in breaths as he hoped the assailants wouldn't find him in the deep shrubbery he had landed in. (m/n) was too tired to get up to find his guards. They should be the one looking for him, not the other way around so he just laid there in the bush like a lazy twat.

(m/n) wondered what Daisuke was doing. That even if he cared that he was in this dangerous predicament. It was him who didn't want to go to the ball, leaving himself vulnerable.

He sighed, not wanting to scramble his thoughts any longer as he ignored the throbbing pain down his leg. Was something broken?

He took a peek and swore to not look down again. He swore something was poking out of his leg. And at that moment, horns were heard and reinforcements finally arrived. (m/n) sighing in relief.

"Fucking finally-" "KILL THEM ALL!!"

His mouth dropped at the familiar voice. In the distance was Daisuke, in his still lavish suit, fresh from the ball, drawing his sword with a face full of fury and a barrage of knights behind him. (m/n) forgot that the prince had been a commander at one point, as per his wedding suit.

"SLAUGHTER EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM! THERE WILL BE NO SURVIVORS SPARED UNTIL THE CONSORT IS FOUND! FIND MY HUSBAND ALIVE OR I'M TAKING YOUR HEADS INSTEAD!!"

(m/n) wanted to giggle, because how down bad was the prince to murder the assailants and the knights if he was found dead. The paladins seemed to be pumped as they stormed the Emerald Palace, joining their brothers in the fight and bringing the staff to safety, all in the search of him and he could hear Daisuke screaming his name.

He rolled his eyes as he fumbled for a stone and threw at one of the guards running by, hitting their back plate. "What the-! THE CONSORT!! We found the consort!"

The guard immediately went to him, opting to pull him out of the shrubbery under the trees next to the entrances, how (m/n) was so close to victory, but he hesitated once he saw the consort's leg.

"I don't want to know." (m/n) deadpanned. He still hadn't fully embraced the pain from the adrenaline and he's not in the mood right now. Just in time, Daisuke had arrived at his location, scrambling off his horse and onto his knees, hugging him and spilling tears.

"Thank heavens, you're safe! Are you injured? Are you hurt anywh- OH MY FUCKING GOD?!!!" He grabbed a potion from one of the emergency medics behind him, it seemed that a lot of the guards had surrounded him, some out of curiosity on how the hell the consort ended down there and some were detaining the assailants.

Daisuke urged him to drink the small bottle, apparently as an anaesthetic because the injury was that bad but again he didn't want to know the severity of it.

Him and two other knights carefully lifted up the consort, laying him in an open carriage as Daisuke handed his husband over to his personal knight. "Bring him to the royal infirmary. Now." The knight nodded and sat on the horse, carrying the injured (h/c) to safety.

It seemed Daisuke wanted to deal with the rest of the assailants himself.

"Your Grace, you seem oddly calm. Your bone is sticking out-" "I don't want to fucking know, bro."

(m/n) was sulking, throwing a tantrum as he yelled for the guards to let him pass. It had been a few days since his attempted assassination and he was placed on house arrest or more specifically bed rest since he broke his leg, had a few bruises and the obvious bandage on his cheek.

Well, it wasn't his room he was staying in, instead he was confined to Daisuke's room. The man had gone berserk, catching all the assailants which were shockingly around forty men which was suspicious amount just for the murder of one consort.

He was furious and didn't even let (m/n) voice his thoughts of staying elsewhere as he locked the (h/c) inside his room. The consort couldn't do much, his left leg was in a cast from his ankle up to his knee. (m/n) was annoyed and frankly upset that he had to be placed in a protective lockdown just because someone wanted him dead.

Other than that, he thought he looked like a total loser using crutches because his arm strength was not the best, he’d be stumbling over himself half the time. So he opted for a wheelchair instead. He almost puked seeing the standard boring hospital wheelchair and Daisuke bought him a golden one instead. "It will do." He huffed as his personal maid pushed him down the halls after finally arguing and winning against the paladin to let him get some fresh air.

That came at a price of five knights surrounding him and his maid. All of them were talking military slangs so he was annoyed when they mentioned 'baby eagle has left the nest' but it seemed pretty obvious that they were his guard dogs.

"Don't fret, Your Grace. All will be fine soon." His maid consoled him, pitying at his annoyed state. "These idiots are blocking my view...and this cast is UGLY!" They were outside, (m/n) breathing a sigh of relief, finally escaping containment, still surrounded by knights however.

"And where the hell is the prince??" (m/n) hadn't seen his husband for the past two nights despite him practically living in his chambers. What the hell was he up to now?

Screaming echoed against the moist stone walls, a dimly lit prison with a sconce mounted onto a wall. There was a severely injured man, strapped to a wooden chair with belts around his wrists, ankles and waist. Most of his fingernails were ripped out, a bloody wrench was very effective, the beholder stared down at the impaired prisoner, his guards standing behind him menacingly.

Daisuke spoke, his voice low and commanding. “I’ll ask again. Who is your client?”

“I don’t know!” He sobbed out, tears and snot coated his face along with the occasional blood. “We only received a photo and a fuck ton of money- my men have no idea who employed us!”

The prince had been in the dungeons for a few days, slowly killing the remainder of the infiltrators who dared to step foot into the Emerald Palace, especially the ones who laid hands on his husband. He used a number of tools, screwdriver, wrench, a hammer, even a scalpel and once he found out who was the ringleader, he didn’t hesitate to rid the useless ones.

“How much did that bastard pay you?” “I can’t just- FUCK FUCK IT HURTS!!” One of the guards drove a heated steel rod into the gaping wound of his thigh, the ringleader cursing and screaming at the pain enveloping his body.

“It was five million- THE DOWN PAYMENT WAS FIVE MILLION STOP STOP!”

Daisuke gave it more thought, (m/n) was wanted dead, not kidnapped, someone paid a huge amount of money, enough to buy a palace, as down payment for his head. He racked his head, connecting more dots and gazed over the tattoo on the ringleader’s neck.

“A lion…you’re not from here, are you?”

The ringleader shook his head, wailing over the lack of feeling in his leg as Daisuke left the dungeon. “I’ll need to see a friend next week. Clear my schedule, Ivan.” His secretary who held in his retch, nodded as he walked beside him.

“Oh, and how’s (m/n) doing?” “Well, he’s outside right now. Strolling near the greenhouse.”

Ivan had received an update from one of the footmen spying on the consort, for safety purposes or Daisuke’s paranoia.

“…Let’s prepare a gift for him. Burn the dead ones. We have no need for them anymore.”

(m/n) was still sulking, strolling by the flowers in the wheelchair pushed by his loyal maid. The greenhouse was a beautiful place, often visited by the ladies of the kingdom just for the scenery itself. A big glass dome towering over the fauna that flourished and decorated the place. Endangered, foreign and unique floral bloomed in the gardens that were tended to by the gardeners. The (h/c) would often find peace just by being present in the greenhouse.

“All of you are dismissed.” He must have been daydreaming to just notice Daisuke had walked to them, shooing away his maid and the paladins, although they insisted they could tend to the consort but Daisuke denied it otherwise.

“How are you, my love?” Daisuke pushed his wheelchair, guiding him out of the greenhouse as (m/n) fidgeted with the thin blanket laid across his lap. “I’m fine. I feel fine, I think.” The prince chuckled, brushing his oddly stained fingers against his hair.

“I hope you’ll feel much better after I show you,” He coughed into his fist. “A little something that I made.” (m/n) could hear the teasing tone in his voice and he couldn’t guess what other present Daisuke had in store, considering that he had bought every single riche his kingdom had to offer for the (h/c).

“I��m excited.” He replied sarcastically. Daisuke laughed again and the (h/c) wondered if the prince had gone insane just by the amount of laughs he donned in the span of thirty seconds. “Allow me to…vent for a bit, husband. Monologue even.”

“Do as you like.” (m/n) sank into his seat, gazing at the landscape as they headed to the South Wing of the Grand Palace.

“…At the time of the ball, I felt quite lonely. The Earl came up to me, asking for you but of course I rejected his audience, for your recuperance. Many of the guests mentioned I looked like I was looking for something, someone perhaps…Even my father teased me, said I looked like a lost puppy.”

(m/n) snorted at the thought of Daisuke moping around in the ball, all elegant with his suit.

“I was so used to having you by my side…I couldn’t fathom the thought of you, not being around me. I felt unease…

So when your servant came running in, screaming that your palace had been ambushed…I felt dread and…anger.”

The path they were taking were cobblestones, far from the marble and concrete (m/n) was used to.

“Someone wanted you dead, (m/n).”

The (h/c) felt creeped out by this…side of Daisuke. He stopped fidgeting with his blanket.

“…But I’m not letting them have their way. I’m not letting them take you away from me, not when we have this…this love we harbour.

We’re here.”

They arrived at the barracks, for soldiers and knights of the kingdom. (m/n) never stepped foot here, he didn’t need to dirty his hands like the rest of them, Daisuke pushed his wheelchair into the courtyard that was far different from the ones in his properties.

The grounds were only soil, tattered and unkempt used for training but it was empty for this occasion. He was still scrutinizing the rest of the conditions before Daisuke leaned down next to his ear.

“Look up.”

A quiet gasp escaped his lips, his eyes wide as his palm went to cup his mouth in shock. Daisuke peered at his reaction before glaring back at the bodies before them

Three men were nailed high on a cross. Their stomachs slit open, crows pecking at their guts and entrails, pulling it and gnawing it down their throat.

(m/n) barely recognized a few of them, one was the one who almost caught him hiding under the bed, one was the one who had jabbed his ribs with the hilt of his sword and the middle one...he didn't recognise. He's even surprised at the fact that the other man survived his stabbing attempt.

The blood pouring down their torso was a glaring red. It seemed fresh.

"I left them alive for you. They deserved it." Daisuke whispered to (m/n). "One who entered your room. One who forced you to jump and the ringleader. I had them hung with their stomach torn apart to feed the crows. You should have seen them begging to be killed."

The (h/c) glanced behind him to see the prince sweetly smiling down at him. "I'll protect you. This serves as a reminder to anyone that dares to harm you. I'll never let you get hurt again."

At that moment, any normal person would feel fear, their instincts screaming at them to run from the menacing uncanny danger that seemed to be the prince. But not him, not (m/n). For what was supposed to be terror was replaced with heat in his pants.

"Your Highness..." (m/n) mumbled. This proof of love Daisuke had bestowed upon him only heightened his sense of security, pushing insanity. "...Thank you." A gentle smile at his lipsa he caressed the hand on his shoulder.

A warmth enveloped his heart as he stared at his assailants, satisfied with their violent outcome.

"Urghh- urmm hnnmm Your Highness- mhmm! I haven't- We haven't done it in a while- ahn!" His mouth was cupped shut by the ravenette, Daisuke smirking as he stared down at the struggling (h/c). "Keep quiet, unless you'd like to get caught.

(m/n) nodded shamelessly, his weight shifted onto his good leg, Daisuke holding his waist in place. He was forced to stand up, pushed up a wall behind one of the many buildings in the palace, shielded from many eyes. His wheelchair kicked aside.

The (h/c) whimpered while rubbing their cocks together, both of them had unzipped their pants as (m/n) struggled to masturbate both of their dicks while maintaining balance on his stand.

"Grip it more. Then, clench your fingers- mmn! Thaaaat's it." Daisuke praised the consort, who was mewling into his hand covering his mouth, he bucked his hips more into the (h/c)'s hand, rubbing his tip against (m/n)'s.

(m/n)'s cries were muffled when he came, spurts of semen decorating both their cocks as Daisuke followed, moaning as he rutted up into his husband's hands.

The (h/c) went limp, crashing into Daisuke's chest as he whined for comfort, the prince cooing at him as he cleaned them both up, carrying him into his chambers.

"Huff, huff- ahnnn fuckk meee- mnhaa!"

(m/n) cried out when Daisuke came inside him again, his ass clenching around the prince's throbbing cock, his palms and knees digging into the bedsheets as his front crashed onto the bed, losing his composure.

His cast was weighing him down, tiring him more than usual but that didn't seem to stop Daisuke.

"One more time for me, love." He tapped his ass, pushing him onto his side as he pulled the (h/c) by his waist, slapping his crotch onto his ass. "I can't-" He hiccupped, a raw cry tearing from his throat. "I can't cum anymore...I'm too sensitive." He whined helplessly.

"Shh shh don't say that." Daisuke cooed at the (h/c), adjusting his cock, letting his til kiss (m/n)'s entrance. "Of course, you can. You can make me so happy just this once, right?"

(m/n) groggily propped himself on his elbows, whimpering at the pressing tip on his hole. "I'll buy you more jewellery. Have them made custom for you. You can have any gem you desire." The (h/c) moaned again when Daisuke slipped himself into his wet entrance.

It wasn't that he didn't dislike accepting gifts, but the fact that the prince offered like it was some sort of payment made him feel like a whore. And fuck that felt hot.

He melted more into the prince's touch, who was groping his chest, teasily trailing his hand up neck and gripped his throat. "You're practically an expert already, ain't ya'?"

(m/n) mewled, his drool seeping from his lips as he endured the lustful thrusts from the prince. Daisuke smirked, seeing (h/c) strands swishing every time he pounded into the consort as his grip tightened around (m/n)'s neck.

He pushed (m/n)'s good leg up more, bending it as he pushed his cock balls deep inside his husband who screamed at the stuffing of his ass. He knew he had come, watery cum decorating the sheets and his walls squeezing his wet cock.

Daisuke groaned lustfully as he emptied his sperm inside the consort once again as he dropped himself onto (m/n), making sure to avoid his bandaged leg.

The (h/c) was jittery, eyes glossy as he begged for aftercare from the prince who was more than happy to provide to the crying consort.

(m/n) admired the teardrop earrings which held the Artemis and Apollo Gem for each side on his ears. His maids behind him were also fawning over his growing collection of jewellery, courtesy of the crown prince.

"Get me my shoes." "Yes, Your Grace."

It had been some time and (m/n) could walk again. His cast removed and he finally returned to the Emerald Palace, sighing in relief. Daisuke sulked, asking if he didn't enjoy his time at the Grand Palace.

"You keep bedding me every night! How am I supposed to sleep?!" "But babe🥹."

That was the gist of their banter.

The prince himself had journeyed outside of the capital for a few days and he had sent a messenger beforehand telling him to prepare for another journey.

Apparently, in commemoration with his leg healing, Daisuke wanted to take (m/n) out of the Palaces for a vacation, more specifically finally using the long-awaited summerhouse. He also mentioned having another surprise for him, now with his recent one, (m/n) isn't sure what to expect the range of his presents. It could be the heart of his enemies or more designer shoes.

(m/n) embarked to the mansion first, accompanied by...a platoon of soldiers, per request of the crown prince. He even vented his frustrations to the emperor, the rare times where he would be in contact with Daisuke's old man. All he replied was with a drawing of a four-leaf clover.

The journey took three days, them staying in cabins and whatnot, he was even accompanied by Daisuke's secretary, Ivan and they bonded together with a deck of playing cards. As soon as he arrived at the estate, he whistled to himself in surprise.

Overall, he was satisfied with the lavish mansion, a huge lawn with floral decor, and a port for small cruising boats on the far side. With rows and rows of servants bowing on the sidelines.

Estate by the lake, fully furnished and a stampede of staff, just like he wanted. (m/n) thought he had to give Daisuke a good sucking that night until the prince's carriage had suddenly arrived, stopping beside his.

"Husband! I missed you!" Daisuke enveloped (m/n) with a bear hug, lifting him and spinning them around. "What a coincidence we arrived at the same time!" The prince gleamed.

"We arrived first, he was just waiting for you at the entrance for the whole day." Daisuke's personal knight deadpanned, not impressed with his prince. "Is that so?" (m/n) smirked, as he pinched the ravenette's cheek.

They spent their time together, (m/n) cruising around the mansion, commenting on the interior decor and Daisuke following behind him like an excited pup. The prince had to retire to a makeshift office with his secretary, private matters that even (m/n) couldn't join and he rolled his eyes and went to the master bedroom for that matter.

It was almost midnight and Daisuke still was in his office until (m/n) decided to put the lake to good use.

He sneaked out to the harbor, soothed his eyes with the calming water and stripped himself bare. He dipped his feet first, testing the temperature before fully submerging himself in the body of water, enjoying the cooling sensation.

(m/n) dived under, swimming through the ripples of water, gently rocking against his limbs as he swam further to the middle. He resurfaced and gasped, taking breaths as he swiped his hair back.

The (h/c) looked to the harbor and noticed someone standing over them, he squinted his eyes and perked up when he noticed it was his husband. "Could've invited me." Daisuke smirked, pushing (m/n)'s clothes aside with his shoe as the consort swam to the port.

"Didn't want to bother you. Seem pretty busy these days." (m/n) huffed, still keeping himself floating in the inky water. Daisuke rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms together, not bother to hide his very obvious erection with the wet naked consort.

"And what if someone else catches you like this? Dearest, I might find myself green with envy." (m/n) grinned to himself, pride surging within him as he offered a hand to the prince. "Then, join me." He purred before teasingly swimming away.

The prince laughed as he took off his own clothes, not hesitating to gracefully dive into the lake. (m/n) looked behind him for the prince that was nowhere to be seen before he felt something pulling at his feet.

He yelled in shock before Daisuke resurfaced, laughing at him while (m/n) smacked his chest for scaring him. They played in the water together, splashing each other, casual swimming and they even held a contest to see who could last underwater the longest.

"Crap, that's unfair! You're trained for this!" (m/n) pulled Daisuke's black hair who was still holding his head underwater for more than four minutes already. The prince gasped for air as he pulled the embarrassed consort close.

"I don't stay in my room all day when I was a teen, Your Grace." He teased his husband while (m/n) mumbled something along the lines of 'Yeah, cuz' I was in someone else's room-' before Daisuke dragged him underwater again.

The water was relatively cool, calm under the luminous glow of the moon, with the exception of the couple laughing to themselves, making small waves until Daisuke trapped the (h/c) in his arms.

"I love you, (m/n)."

Daisuke confessed as he kissed the (h/c), slowly trailing his hand below the water. The consort moaned into his mouth when he felt his ass cupped, digging his fingernails into Daisuke's back.

(m/n) held onto the prince as he embraced Daisuke, letting him lick, bite and even suck all over his body, him returning the favor, mostly on Daisuke's chest.

They returned to the port, wet and with a limp in (m/n)'s step as they readied themselves for another day.

There was another reason why Daisuke invited (m/n) to take a vacation at the summerhouse. He revealed that he needed to meet a friend, a contact in the West, and since the summerhouse was at the borders, he figured that it would be a perfect opportunity for them to relax together.

(m/n) first questioned why Daisuke hadn't gone alone, as what he did for all his previous side missions until the prince slid him a letter. The (h/c) recognised the letter, he received a similar one before. It was an invite from one of the famous privileged.

Apparently, Daisuke's contact was famous for his ludicrous events, organised privately for high society which required a partner. Daisuke couldn't go alone, and instead of hiring someone else to be his lover, he opted that the (h/c) could have a little outing.

"It's not that revealing." (m/n) rolled his eyes as he spun around in his outfit, checking himself out in the mirrors. "Dear, look at my pants and tell me otherwise."

The (h/c) threw a shoe at him before they embarked for the party in a black carriage, one without a symbol.

(m/n) was dressed in a two-piece bedlah, his cropped top was a see-through maroon garment that covered only his chest and parts of his arms, pearls and beads decorating the garb. His lower half had a golden waist chain with two long fabrics covering his front and behind that had small gems dangling on his hips. He also donned on a shiny brown mask that curved downward at the front, resembling a hawk, its decor matched his jewellery and arm cuffs all over his figure.

Daisuke wore a dark navy cropped top, only covering his shoulders and arms, draped down to his sides, essentially giving a window to his abs and chest. His jewellery leaned to silver, chains cross his chest and a printed flare pants to style the rest of his lower half. A black and blue masquerade mask tied around his head, complimenting his own set of jewellery.

The venue wasn't far from the borders, it took a couple of hours, half of those time (m/n) spent by groping Daisuke's chest over and over until they reached the mansion. They were ushered inside by servants who had empty masks on into a room with large doors.

Daisuke handed the invite to one of the guards and they were let in and there was a reason why the doors were 4-inches thick. Immediately, the sounds of moaning, squelching, and whipping could be heard throughout the ball room.

It was a refurbished hall, with multitudes of furniture decorating the venue, beds, sofas alike with men and women climbing over each other with similar lavish masks.

The event that Daisuke's contact usually organised was orgies or gangbangs accompanied by drugs and alcohols. (m/n) himself received an invite but he ran out of the hall when lots of people wanted a turn on him.

The (h/c) clutched his pearl as he nudged closer to Daisuke who calmly walked to the middle of the pile, seeing his contact, the only one without a mask.

"Ah! My friend, he has arrived!" A man that seemed to be in his thirties, brown curly hair that reached his shoulders and baby blue eyes with woman cooing over him, one of them on her knees deepthroating his cock. He gave a hand to shake but Daisuke respectfully declined, not risking any diseases.

"Did you receive word from my messenger?" "Of course. A shy one, isn't he?" (m/n) didn't fully grasp the context of what they were conversing but he was surprised Daisuke was speaking his mother tongue, despite the obvious accent.

They continued talking to each other, (m/n) hugging Daisuke's arm as he gazed over someone getting tag-teamed and the abundant of breasts present in the dim room, only lit by the candelabras. Suddenly, Daisuke ushered him elsewhere while the previous man got up from the round bed and headed off elsewhere all in his naked glory.

"What happened?" "He went to retrieve a few things for me. It should take some time, so we ought to lay low until then."

Daisuke was a prince of a kingdom, it would be bad for their reputation if he was to be discovered here, albeit the non-disclosure agreement they had to sign. (m/n) wondered if there were any other royals here, kings or queens even, looking at an old burly man fucking into a lewd girl.

The prince grabbed an unopened bottle of alcohol and pulled (m/n) to sit on a sofa in the far corner. More discreet but still surrounded, nonetheless. "He will take his time, that man." Daisuke scoffed as he popped the bottle open. "You can lay down to relax." The prince patted on the spot next to him as (m/n) sighed and draped himself over Daisuke's lap who began drinking and playing with his hair.

"Did you ever went to one of these?" Daisuke questioned him. "No. Some of my friends invited me but I had the feeling I might run into one of my exes if I ever indulged myself. The last time I entered an orgy, they ripped off my mask so it wasn't exactly the most fun adventure I've had."

The prince hummed as he rubbed (m/n)'s bare thigh between the garbs, warming his hands as he took another swig. "What is this? It's strong but sweet."

The (h/c) plucked the bottle from his hands. "It's native to the West. Really nice brand, but it's forbidden for international export, some beef between the owners." Daisuke took the bottle back and chugged it again. "Fuck, it really melts on the tongue."

(m/n) frowned, seeing Daisuke drinking by himself. "Let me have a taste." The prince took another swig and placed the bottle on the table next to them, beside a lit candle, illuminating the side of Daisuke's face before he leaned down and grabbed (m/n)'s jaw still.

He tilted their heads, knocking their masks slightly together before he pushed (m/n)'s mouth open with his fingers letting the wine flowed down his tongue and into (m/n)'s mouth. The (h/c) choked, squirming in Daisuke's hold as he gulped down the mouth-to-mouth drink.

He coughed as he sat up, wiping his lips. "What the hell-" (m/n) patted his own chest. "You're bold today." Daisuke hummed, grabbing the bottle back. "I'm just in the mood, y'know."

(m/n) frowned, ignoring the lewd moans from behind him as he glanced at Daisuke's pants. "You're not thinking of...doing it here, are you?" The prince pursed his lips. "It wouldn't hurt to have some fun, would it?"

"What if we get caught? What if they see your face?" "They won't. We'll be careful. Everyone's sucking something in this hall." Daisuke grabbed (m/n)'s arm, urging him to sit in his lap as the (h/c) hesitantly climbed over, facing the heated prince.

"I don't know...it just feels uneasy? I'm not sure." (m/n) felt the burn in his stomach, curling in his crotch but he wasn't sure what to make of it. The wine tasted different.

"It's okay, baby. I'm here, aren't I? You're safe with me." Daisuke cooed at him, gently nipping at his bare shoulder, caressing his back. (m/n) grunted as he took the bottle of wine, reading the back of it.

He almost dropped the bottle when he felt Daisuke's erection brushed under him, (m/n) squirming and bucking his hips as the prince pulled him closer, grinding up against him.

"Fuck it." (m/n) downed the bottle, drinking three full gulps as he slammed it on the table, Daisuke cheering at his swig as the (h/c) leaned in to kiss his husband, making out with their tongues.

Their teeth clashed, gums rubbing together while (m/n) was swinging his hips, circling down on Daisuke's clothed cock. "You're so hot. Sexy little thing." The prince purred, his hand inching underneath (m/n)'s skirt as he ripped the (h/c)'s thin underwear.

(m/n) hissed in pain when Daisuke dipped a dry thumb into his hole, rubbing against his walls painfully. He gasped and moaned as the prince's other hands began to grip his ass, pulling at it, stretching his entrance.

He fell forward, his face buried into the crevice of Daisuke's neck who took the wine and dipped it all over his hand, using at as lube as he began to finger the consort.

"You're a bit tighter today than usual. Want my cock or fingers to loosen you up?" Daisuke blew a breath into (m/n)'s ear, two of his fingers stuffing his hole, stretching his rim. "F-Fingers first please." The (h/c) desperately loosen his skirt, pulling at the fabric to release his dripping cock, he was much more sensitive than he normally was.

Was it because they were in public? (m/n) drooled, seeing another man getting his mouth stuffed with two cocks but his attention was stolen by the prince who immediately shoved four fingers in when he noticed (m/n)'s eyes were straying.

"Eyes on me, sweetie. Don't make me mad. I wouldn't want to tear off all your clothes." Daisuke licked a stripe up his neck. "Unless you'd like that."

A shiver ran down the (h/c)'s spine as he unclipped his waist chain, letting the fabric fell into Daisuke's lip. The prince rubbing his digits into (m/n)'s walls, loosening his ass as he rutted his hips up, grinding against his husband.

The ravenette bunched up the fabric, tearing it from the chain and wrapped it around (m/n)'s waist, barely covering his bottom. "If we're going to do it, I prefer if not many are able to see us." "Mmmnn ahn! Are you seriously trying to cover us up? You're the one who started this- ahngg!"

There was a pink flush on Daisuke's cheek, his lips smirking as he wrangled his ass to push him to the brink of pleasure, (m/n) squirting on Daisuke's abs as he almost fell behind, the prince grabbing his arms.

"I'd like to see you cum on my own terms, dearest." "Or what?" (m/n) scoffed. "You'll get jealous?" Daisuke smirked to himself as he kissed the (h/c). "I'll burn down this whole hall if I have to." "That's so fucking hot." (m/n) groaned into his mouth, pressing his wet tongue into Daisuke's.

The (h/c) pushed the prince back, forcing him to sink into the cushion behind him as he leaned into the prince's open chest. (m/n) pressed his tongue flat on his pec, dragging it upwards to the valley in between, watching Daisuke who stared down at him with bated breaths.

His mask was already tilting to the side, it was a bad idea to choose one with a beak. (m/n) kept biting on Daisuke's tits, sinking his teeth, hearing his gasps and moans. He sucked on the pale flesh, admiring the reddening skin as he licked and sucked on his nipple next.

Daisuke bucked his hips up into (m/n)'s bottom as he clumsily pushed his pants down, letting his dick flop out freely, leaking precum. The (h/c) was too busy sucking on his chest, marking his man while Daisuke grabbed his waist, forcing him to sit on his cock.

"Mmnn-" He pulled off of the prince's breast with a pop. "Slowly, slowly..." He whined at Daisuke, sighing as he sank his hole, swallowing his hot dick in one push. (m/n) took his time, throwing his head back in fuzzy pleasure before Daisuke patted his thigh, urging him to move.

The consort took a deep breath before bringing his hips up and slammed himself down onto the prince's lap, yelping as he does so.

He adjusted himself on the sofa, feeling his legs shake as he bounced himself helplessly on the prince's cock. "Up and down, baby." Daisuke kissed his neck, sucking and pulling at the skin making (m/n) squirm and clench around his tip. "Yeah- mmnn! Just like that- anhh!" The prince moaned and licked into his ear as he came inside the consort, shooting ropes of sperm into his hole.

The (h/c) cupped his mouth, resisting the urge to scream as he quickly fucked himself on Daisuke, squeezing around his cock as tears brimmed at the corner of his eyes. "You're doing good." Daisuke cooed at him, rubbing his sides.

"Make a little noise for me, princess." (m/n) gasped as he came on the prince's dick. He had a few hiccups before crying out, Daisuke pinching his chest. "That's it, thaaaat's it." The prince dragged his words, praising the consort as (m/n) cried into his shoulder, whimpering why was he so sensitive at that moment.

He flinched when he felt someone touching him from behind. "Hey, can I have a turn? You have a beautiful man on you, I couldn’t help but be smitten." The man behind him purred, wanting to pull (m/n) before Daisuke swatted his hands away, hugging the (h/c) close to his chest.

"If you want to keep your hands, I suggest you back away." The prince seethed, glaring at him through the masquerade mask before the brunette from earlier came, diffusing the situation. "Hey hey, let's calm down here okay."

He turned to the unknown man. "Apologies but this couple is exclusive, I can have one of my peers entertain you instead." He shooed the stranger away before facing the pair. "Sorry about that. People here don't exactly have manners."

He handed a scroll tied with a felt rope to Daisuke, who took it silently, still holding (m/n) close. "It's all the info you need. I'll be expecting the payment by the day after tomorrow." The prince moved to leave but the brunette stopped him.

"Don't bother, stay here as long as you'd like. We all need to let loose sometimes, y'know." He winked at Daisuke before running off to a girl wearing a kinky BDSM garter. The prince scoffed, examining the scroll before his attention was stolen by the (h/c).

"Princey..." He whined. "I'm still- mnn! I'm still leaking..." (m/n) cried, tears running down his cheeks, his cock still dripping precum, an abnormal amount as Daisuke licked his tears.

"We'll do it as much as you'd like, my love."

The prince recklessly dropped the scroll, letting it roll underneath the sofa as he bent the consort over on the couch, slipping his cock back inside the mewling (h/c).

Time seemed to be a fleeting moment and by the end of it, (m/n) found himself full, his ass leaking, and his stomach painted with semen, a strand connected from his flaccid tip to his stained skin.

His body was marked with teeth indents, some were bleeding, the prince was heaving over him. Daisuke's chest was mostly red, with hickey littering his skin and his pants had been long gone.

It took them five hours to recollect themselves, (m/n) gaining consciousness as he realised Daisuke was still rutting into him mindlessly. He had to slap him sober so they would leave, thankfully there was a section provided to clean up themselves with spare clothes, with payment of course. The two finally left the building with the scroll in hand.

"The wine there was fucking laced! How the hell did you fall into their trap so fast?! That's how people kept coming back!" In a fit of anger, (m/n) scolded the bashful prince who was the one to drink the spiked wine.

"...It hadn't been opened yet..." Daisuke mumbled, a pout on his lips, despite that he had no regrets having sex around others.

Apparently, the supplier of the wine had them custom-brewed, infused with aphrodisiac so people would return to the orgy, a harmful yet successful tactic.

Both of them had returned to their chambers and slept for eight hours and when the (h/c) had woken up, Daisuke was still drooling on his pillow, his body slack in his sleep. (m/n) rolled his eyes and was about to leave the bed to get himself some tidbits but noticed the paper untied on the bedside next to Daisuke.

The reason of why Daisuke had reached out to his 'friend' remained unknown in his mind, curiosity got the better off him as he reached for the scroll and read through its contacts.

It was a long list of people, brokers, clients and at the top of the list were mercenaries with the symbol of a lion. (m/n) hesitated to read the rest of the contents he rolled the paper back up. It was clear that Daisuke was investigating on the motive of the ambush the (h/c) had endured and seeing the remains of those mercenaries, (m/n) knew it was going to be bloody.

Dirty jobs aren't for people like him so (m/n) essentially just minded his own business and let his husband do as he wishes. By the time he had returned to the bedroom, the scroll was nowhere to be seen with Daisuke perching on the bed, happy that he had brought some snacks.

A few more days passed by peacefully and Daisuke finally revealed his surprise. The image of the (h/c)'s family had long appeared on his mind, and he certainly broke down in his mother's arms when his parents and his older brother appeared in the lobby of their mansion.

The prince had arranged an invite for the Dukedom after Daisuke had found out that the reason (m/n) wanted the summerhouse to be located near the borders was so that his family didn't have to travel far to the East Palace to visit him.

(m/n) whined to his parents about how cruel Daisuke had treated him and his brother saw right through his lies, pinching at his cheeks while Daisuke and his father was chatting by the sidelines.

The consort considered this to be one of the most memorable gifts Daisuke had presented to him, waving goodbye to his family after a two-day stay and they decided to spend their last night of their vacation out on the harbor by the lake.

"So, were you able to get all that you needed from your broker friend?" Amidst the glistening waves of the lake, the moonlight was more than enough to reflect light in their eyes, a small picnic with some tidbits in a basket. (m/n) popped a few grapes into his mouth as Daisuke began prepping his self-made sandwich.

"I was. He was more than helpful, more honest after a few bags of gold. But he is a reasonable man." The prince swiped the condiments onto his bread with a butter knife, (m/n) rolling his eyes at his reply. "He conducts orgies, Your Highness. How is that reasonable?" "Everyone's nasty down there one way or another."

A noise of disgust escaped his throat, (m/n) gagging on the thought of going back there again as he stole the sandwich Daisuke made. "Hey, that's mine." The (h/c) took a bite before Daisuke could retrieve it back. "Mediocre at best."

"I'm not your chef, you twat." Laughter could be heard from the couple, both of them eating from the same plate since (m/n) was too lazy to lift a finger and he positioned himself to sit in front of Daisuke, folding his legs as he leaned back into Daisuke's chest, both of them gazing at the moon.

"Do you think it's flat?" "We are not having this conversation."

(m/n) snuggled in further, him holding out his hand to admire his wedding band. "I couldn't believe we are an actual couple now..." He whispered in a hushed voice. The prince looked down to him, his nose nudging against the (h/c)'s cheek.

"We're compatible. I can't imagine myself with any other." Daisuke mumbled, pecking at (m/n)'s cheek. The latter sighed, sinking further into the prince. "...How long do you think we'll last?" The (h/c) inquired curiously.

"When the sun decides to rain fire on us, even then I won't let you go." A chuckle from Daisuke, the consort feeling the rumble from his chest. A heavy confession hung from his heart, a fleeting beat that had the aftertaste of a sweet fruit.

Memories of the prince holding him flashed through his mind. Their adventures, their flashy affairs and their sour harmony in tandem. The (h/c) knew he had fallen for the prince. Once again, he gave up his pride, and it drained his denial. (m/n) fidgeted the end of his shirt as he pulled a loose string, snapping it from his garment.

"I love you."

The prince's eyes seemed to snap wide open, the breeze of the night soothing (m/n)'s growing heat in his cheeks, feeling bashful and flushed. Daisuke kissed his face, peppering them all over as he kissed his lips last.

"I love you as well."

(m/n) buried his face with his hands, shielding his embarrassed expression while the prince was too happy to even notice, showering his husband with affection. Their last night of their long vacation was spent together, holding in each other's arms by the harbor, as the two finally accepted their love for each other.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

EXTRA CONTENT:

Shortly after their public jerking off with each other...

"Can you move it to the left? That's about right." Daisuke was present with contractors in the greenhouse, after their public rendezvous, the prince decided that they should have a more accessible place to rest.

The workers moved a circular frame, positioning it to Daisuke's desire. It was a foundation for a new furniture. "Yeah, yeah...can you make something of a bed? Or one of those really big cushions you can...rest on. That's definitely the word."

The prince grinned to himself, imagining (m/n) laying on the circular mattress sideways, with petals of roses surrounding the consort. He can't wait to fuck (m/n) on this thing.

It took a moment for him to realise the rest of them were staring at him, unimpressed expressions behind their polite smile. "I'll take my leave now- make sure its STURDY OKAY MANY THANKS!" He ran away as fast as he could, excited to give the news to the consort.

A deleted draft, after their argument/confession on the field...

(m/n) was pulled by his hand, Daisuke guiding him, their feet trudging through the green grass. The (h/c)'s face was puffy, wet from crying as he felt a weigh curling in his crotch.

Why is he dressed so fucking handsome...(m/n) gritted his teeth, staring at Daisuke's ass before he stopped in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" The prince looked back, his eyes had bags underneath them, his sclera red from tears. (m/n) bit his bottom lip before effectively jumping on the prince, Daisuke barely managing to catch him in his arms as they fell to the ground.

"LOOK AWAY- LOOK AWAY I TELL YOU!!" The guards immediately faced the other way, red hues painted on their cheeks.

By the time (m/n) was done humping on top of Daisuke, he had soiled his pants, walking off with a relieved sigh as he left the breathless prince who was now rock hard.

"What about me??" "Take care of it yourself."

The prince gave chase, adamant to wrangle the consort who quickly sprinted away, the two laughing and running in the halls of the Emerald Palace.

Daisuke training...

"I don't get why I have to come here. It's smelly and for sweaty people-" (m/n)'s whinings were cut off when his eye caught the prince, swinging his swords against two knights in a training arena.

Daisuke was in a tight black shirt, his chest hugged by the fabric and (m/n) thought he should start a clothing line specifically for muscular men because damn some of them need a bra.

He bit his nails, seeing his thighs move as the prince quickly evaded the attack by a knight and jammed the wooden sword into his chest, knocking him down. He defeated the other guard in a breeze, the other soldiers clapping for the prince's victory.

(m/n) let out a quiet, deep humming, quickly taking the stairs down where Daisuke was exiting the arena.

"Oh, (m/n)! You're already here-" Immediately the prince was pulled into a corner, (m/n) dropping on his knees, pulling at his belt and grinding on his foot, begging to suck his dick right then and there.

Daisuke had his eyes popped out for a second before pulling the consort back to his feet. "Just a moment, dearest. Wouldn't want to give them a show." He purred, bringing the consort into one of the barracks, kissing the consort as he pushed him down to his knees.

[Afterthoughts]

Guess who’s the flat earther lmao. I never watched Bridgerton. I should do it one day. Arabic poems are great btw. The extras aren’t fully canon, it’s just sexy scenes I had contemplated on adding. I thought of adding Emperor Aurelius’ son for a scene but I didn’t want to because it would go too deep into the non-existent lore.

When Daisuke was yelling at reader how much he loves him, I resisted the urge to write “(m/n) was gagged.”

When I wrote the dialogue, I don’t intend to fully use formal or old English, never took a course for the language except for in high school and I wanted the fic to be more understandable for the readers cuz let’s face it, just get to the damn point, I don’t need a paragraph to know someone is sleeping in a dark room.

THIS FIC IS SO FUCKING SHIT IM AWARE so be nice to me thanks </3

I intentionally used a mix of modern English/slangs/ and formal ones because I had writer’s block recently so things aren’t going the best for me right now.

There's a fun easter egg around the ending, somewhere on the harbor so if anyone guessed it right, props to u!

HUGE shoutout to @jaythes1mp for helping me rewrite some of the parts, I felt so dumb yet so smarter now. And also HUGE shoutout to @kiiyoooo for reading and helping me correct some of the scenes. They didn’t beta read the whole fic, only one part of it (the emotional ones) and if u noticed the shifting quality stfu pls I cant do this rn tq!/srs im sorry

There was a problem with the formatting (i think i pasted it twice and had to manually remove them) so if there is repeating paragraphs, let me know thanks, ill check it properly tomorrow

Daisuke if (m/n) found his ex at the orgy:

(m/n) twice a day:

Taglist:

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo @helloanime @garlicforthewin @jaxyy219 @mikahrh @gayaristocrat @m4r13ll @pinxeajin @gyarukitti @syyyy4ever @pato-spoiler-27 @citrusequalsfrogs @animefan106sposts @bensontrechic @partywalker @gaynesspersonified @yanrandom @theorye @jentlesoldier @apotatoishereee @blepp0c @luciusclover @mazunzunne @basketbaal

Only prince daisuke:

@kingcomet

#Spotify #bottom male reader #x bottom male reader #male reader smut #sub male reader #uke male reader #x male reader #oukabarsburg #oc x male reader smut #oc x male reader #oc x reader smut #daisuke yuichi #historical #prince x male reader #prince oc #male reader #oc x reader #male oc #oc smut

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i-cant-sing · 4 months

Text

Time Traveller AU pt 6

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Time Traveller AU masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

PART 7 is here!

Its been a week since Baldwin finally came clean about the kiss with Charlotte, a week since you cleared of him "cheating on you", not that you cared if he did, and a week since you realised Guy tried and failed miserably to sabotage Baldwin through Charlotte.

Its also been a week over the due date you were supposed to return to Egypt to get your tools from Abbas, but its been hard to leave when Baldwin insists on spending time with you 24/7 because wants to make up to you for "suspecting his devotion to you".

He draped himself over your shoulders, caging you in his arms as he pecks your temple. "I'm sorry for making you doubt my love for you, princess. No, no- clearly, I'm the one at fault! Let me make it upto you~" Ugh, sometimes him being such a green flag is making it seem like a red flag. But you cant argue because... well, if you dont let Baldwin shower you in affection, then he might stop chanting "its my fault, princess" and change the narrative into "its your fault, princess and you need to be punished for doubting me- the KING, for slapping me- the KING, for thinking yourself so highly that you think i cant have all the women i want, me- the KING! To the dungeons you go, darling!"

Anyways, you both were now sitting down in the royal gardens, Baldwin's head laid in your lap as you worked your fingers through his luscious locks, absentmindedly braiding his hair while he made you tell some stories.

"And so, she found out her husband was cheating on her because she found out a jar of strawb- a jar of lard in her house." You looked down at his face, finding him already staring up at you, eyes full of awe. "And she doesnt eat lard. She hates it, so she never allowed it in the house."

Baldwin let out a small gasp. "And then what did this- Sharkerilla lady do?"

"Shakarina left Pickle. Divorced him." You told him, adding in small daisies in his hair. His face displayed pity. "Wow. And how do you know these people?"

You paused for a second. You cant explain to him how Shakira and Pique were celebrities and the concept of drama channels on youtube.

"We were neighbours." You hummed, patting his head. "There, I did your hair. Now I'm going-"

"No. Come on, we havent spent enough time." He whined, blue eyes looking at you pleadingly.

You scoff. "Baldwin, we've spent the entire day together. We ate breakfast and lunch together, we read books in the library, we looked at tiaras and crowns for the wedding, we even played chess." He lifted his head up from your lap and rested it on his palm as he leaned on his shoulder.

"And you lost all 5 games." Baldwin grinned, making you smack his forehead gently.

"I need to go-"

"Why?"

"Because I need to make arrangements for my trip to Egypt." You explained as Baldwin groaned, plopping his head face-first into your lap. "No." He mumbled against your dress.

"No?"

"No." He raised his head, pouting at you. "You're not going to Egypt. I miss you too much."

You gave him a lazy smile. "I'll be back soon."

"Not soon enough." He argued. "I have to go find my family, Baldwin." You continued on with your lie, raising a hand to caress his cheek. He sighed and leaned into your touch. "I can send the knights to find them." "They wont be able to. Only I will. Besides, I need to know what theyre like, if its even best to let them back into my life again, hm?"

He pondered over for a moment. "Then I will come along?" "What? Why?" He gave you a charming smile. "Because I dont want to part from you. Not for weeks, not for days, not even for-" He leaned up close to your face, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips back to your eyes. "-a minute."

Your face flushed and you looked to your side, using your hand to push his face away, making him chuckle as he grabbed the same hand and pressed a kiss to it. "You're so adorable, my little prude."

You shot him a glare. "I- I'm not a prude. But at least one of us should have a little shame."

He gave a chuckle, poking your still flushed cheek. "Shame? Whatever for? I love you." His eyes lit up in amusement as your head whipped towards him. Baldwin raised a brow at you. Its not the first time he's confessed, but... it still catches you offguard everytime.

"Did you hear me? I love you." He repeated, eyes still twinkling at how you continued to become flustered.

You opened your mouth and then closed it like an idiot, not knowing how to reply.

"Thank you." You finally said, looking anywhere but at him. He burst into a fit of laughter. "Oh god- I tell you- I love you and you say "thank you"? You really are something out of this world!" Baldwin teased you, making you huff.

"Lets not get off topic, Baldwin. You cant come with me to Egypt because you cant abandon Jerusalem. If your throne is empty, Guy- though he doesnt have the brain for it, or Salauddin or someone else will attempt to take your throne from you! You have a responsibility to your people! Keep them safe." You reminded him.

Baldwin stared at you before sighing, leaning back and resting his head on his arms. "You're always so smart, aren't you?" He smiled with his eyes closed. "I suppose it is a good thing that you care so much for your future subjects."

Next day, you were all set to leave for Egypt again. Baldwin and you stood at the gates of the castle as the kingdom all gathered around to bid you safe travels. You were ignoring Baldwin's stupid lovey dovey eyes boring holes into you, because there are people here and you dont want this blue orbed man to embarrass you.

But alas, he took your hand in his, making you look at him. He flashed you his dimples, bringing up your hand to press a kiss to it, the crowd cooing while you blushed (though it could be mistaken for anger with how hard you were frowning).

Tearing his eyes away from you, he addressed his people. "O people of Jerusalem! Your princess is going on an important journey. I ask you all to pray for her safety and well being!" The crowd looked on you two with awe, or more at Baldwin for being such a doting husband-to-be.

"While I know that your hearts must ache to see your princess depart from us for some time, I bring you good news to keep your hearts at peace as well." You looked at Baldwin in confusion. Good news? What is he talking about?

Baldwin smiled at you, the sunlight hitting his face at angle that made him look majestic.

"In 3 weeks time, the princess and I will marry!" Your eyes widened as the crowd erupted in cheer.

Baldwin hugged you close, and you whispered. "Three weeks? But I'll be gone for at least two! I wont have enough time to make-"

"Dont worry about a thing, princess. Sibylla and I will make all the arrangements necessary and trust me, it'll be a wedding for generations to remember." He pulled back, grinning at you as he pecked your forehead. "You just focus on returning safely, okay?"

Sibylla, Guy and their son were also there to bid you farewell. Sibylla pulled you in for a tight hug, promising to give you a grand wedding and that she'll keep your prefrences in mind. Their son ran off and Sibylla went to chase after him, leaving you alone with Guy.

"Bye." Guy gruffly said while you smiled tightly at him. "I know what you did, you buffoon." He looked at you slighted. "What the hell are you-"

"Charlotte? The letters? Yeah, we'll talk when I return. And you better not cause anymore trouble for me or else-" You turned to look at Baldwin, waving sweetly at him. Guy gulped, taking in your threat.

As usual, your first stop was at Salauddin's camp. You would go without stopping here, the knights Baldwin sent with you claimed to know the way but... you dont trust them to know how to survive the desert. And you knew you were right when some people from your caravan started feeling faint.

"Return to Jerusalem and take care of yourself." "But we cant just leave you, princess-" "You are not going to be able to serve me if you dont survive the desert. Salauddin's camp is near and with his guards combined with mine, I'll be more than safe. Go now. And tell the king that I insisted you returned." You assured them, commanding a few knights to guard them on their way back.

Looking ahead, you saw the sand hill beyond which Salauddin's camp was. Isabella, your lady-in-waiting, gave you your niqaab and chaddar.

"And then, he told me about who Charlotte was and what really happened. It was all a big misunderstanding." You told Salauddin as he moved his pawn.

"You believed him?" He raises a brow as you made your move.

"Of course! I already knew Guy was behind it. I figured it from the letters, and his face practically gave it all away when I confronted him about it." You reached under your veil to fan yourself. "Is it burning in here or am I just imagining it?"

Salauddin turned and brought you some cold water. "Guy could be a threat to you. Dont trust him."

You turned your head to the side, barely lifting your veil before bringing the glass underneath it to your lips, gulping it down as you let out a relieved sigh. "I know. Guy is a tool, and tools are meant to be used."

His lips quirked slightly at your words. Sitting back down, he played his move. "When do you plan on leaving Baldwin?"

"Soon. The plan is in motion." You took some time before moving your knight. Salauddin wasnt making this game easy for you this time and neither was the hot temperature.

He leaned forward, taking your knight with his bishop. "And how do you plan on doing that when your fiance has just announced your wedding date?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "How did you- spies?" Salauddin's silence confirmed how news travelled so fast. "You dont need to worry. I'll be long gone before the wedding day."

"Care to indulge me on your plan?" He popped a date in his mouth.

"No." You replied making him glare at you. "If your plan involves relying on Guy, then you're even stupider than you look."

You scoff, pushing his king down. "I'm sorry, how many rounds have you won against me?" He smirks, though you suspect that he's just trying to cover up for being a sore loser.

"Maybe I just let you win so that you get to live." Of course, how can you forget his "win or you die" version of chess.

"Whatever you say, grandpa." His jaw clenched, making you chuckle. "Your existence gives me a headache. Leave."

As you walked out, you're suddenly hit with a wave of dizziness. Under your veil, your face is sweaty, you cant even use your hands to wipe it away because of how clammy they are, you even feel beads of sweat rolling down from your neck to your leg.

"Are you alright?" Salauddin came up behind you, eyes studying you stumbling a bit.

"Yeah- I'm just- hot..." You muttered, sweat gathering around your upper lip while your mouth felt like cotton. He watched you blink slowly as the sun hit you in the face, making you raise your hand to shield yourself, even though your muscle cramped.

"Y/n?" You heard him call you, but black dots clouded your vision and then in a second, you fainted.

You woke up to the sound of drums playing outside. Looking around, you recognised this to be the women's tent you had been in the first time Baldwin brought you here.

Isabella walked in, halting for a moment when she realised you were awake before rushing towards you. "Princess? Are you okay?" She poured you a glass of water, helping you drink it. "What happened?"

"You fainted from the heat. We were going to take you back to the kingdom but Sultan Salauddin advised us all to stay put here because the air was only going to get hotter for the rest of the day. And by night, it would be too cold for us to make it back." She smiled gently. "He was kind enough to offer us stay here."

You nodded and sighed. For sure none of you wouldve survived if you were to return to Jerusalem today.

You walked out of the tent to see it was night now. The drums you heard earlier were being played by some men of Salauddin's, accompanied by few women clapping and having an overall merry time around the bonfire.

You didnt spot Salauddin with them, but you suppose he's probably either working or resting.

The temperature had indeed dropped as night fell, and you wrapped a shawl around before joining the camp fire. You sat down on the ground with some women, smiling as they immeadiately welcomed you warmly. The one on your right was quick to show you her baby, and you recognised him to be the one you saved.

"Jibrael." She told you his name. The baby was almost a month old, and his chubby cheeks made you coo. Jibrael- or Gabriel, is an angel who acted as an intermediary between God and humans and as bearer of revelation to the prophets, most notably to Muhammad (PBUH). In Christianity, Gabriel was the archangel announcing the coming birth of Jesus Christ and John the Baptist. In Judaism, Gabriel is a helper to Daniel and a warrior angel for God's cause.

You played with the baby for a while before handing him back to his mother to be put down for sleep. It was getting cold now and most had already left to go to bed now. You wrapped the shawl around you closer, snuggling into it as your eyes gazed at the dancing flames. You felt someone sit next to you.

"How are you feeling now?" Salauddin asked, keeping his eyes ahead.

"I'm fine. Thank you for catching me."

"I didnt. You fell. It was funny." You turned to glare at him (the respectable gap between you two did not go unnoticed... or unappreciated by you.) and perhaps for the first time you saw him smiling. Genuinely.

Though his thick beard covered most of his lower third of the face, you could see his sharp jawline that sculpted his face. Strong. Hard. His lips, bottom one appearing to be plumper than the upper one, were resting in a relaxed smile.

The moonlight seemed to soften his sharp features, but his kohl lined eyes adorned with luscious lashes shone with amusement and... something in the orange hue of the bonfire.

He turned his head to you. "What?" You were thankful for your veil covering your expression for being caught staring at him like an idiot. You shake your head, dismissing him, turning your head back towards the dying fire.

"What are you going to do once you leave Baldwin?" Salauddin asked, stoking the fire.

"Leave."

"To where?" You shrug. "Anywhere. Maybe try finding my family. Or venture somewhere else."

"He wont give up so easily." You rolled your eyes. "Yeah yeah, because he loves me and all-"

"He wont forgive your betrayal." Salauddin cut you off. "He wont forgive you for the embarrasment. He wont forgive you for the insult of rejecting a king. He wont just- let you go." He looked at you, his tone haunting as he uttered the next words.

"Baldwin will hunt you down. And he will make you wish you were dead."

You stared at him, processing his words. Baldwin would... hurt me?

"Are we talking about the same man?" You ask him with a light chuckle, though your throat has ran dry.

He nods. "I know he seems like he couldnt hurt a fly, and physically, he couldnt until you cured him. But I've seen him on the battlefield. I've had him as my enemy and I've observed him obliterate people who just tick him off." He offered you some dates, and you took a few. You were hungry, and these looked pretty good right now.

"Baldwin is smart, calculating. He's the king, he has the power to end his enemy very easily. At the drop of a hat. But he doesn't. He waits for the perfect moment, or rather creates the perfect chance to torture any man who had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of his anger. And he does it with a completely cool, clear mind." And even though Salauddin has fought Baldwin many times, they both know they're only fighting for their people, for their religion. Its nothing personal, so they're technically not enemies.

"So what do you suggest I do to not piss him off so badly? I've already tried rejecting him respectfully."

He stayed quiet for a few moments, stoking the fire. He smiled when he felt your curious eyes on him.

"There is a way." He said.

"Which is...?"

His smile widened even more. "You're not ready for it yet." You frowned. "Drop the act, Salauddin. You came here by yourself because you wanted to tell me the plan. Stop teasing and just tell me." He chuckled hearing you become frustrated.

"In due time, Y/n. In due time." You roll your eyes, standing up. "I'm not going to beg you to tell me. But your "plan", which I dont think exists, it better not mess with my escape." You stomped back inside your tent, and Salauddin snickered as you tripped a bit on your chadar on the way in.

He stood up, giving a nod to the rest as they all settled in for the night.

"Salauddin!" You cried out, your eyes full of tears that he could see from a mile away, even if your were wearing a niqaab. He could feel your agony, your distress. You were standing in the middle of the desert alone, the boiling sun along with your black chadar covering you from head-to-toe, would only be increasing your body temperature. Why were you all alone? He left you with his caravan. Or did Baldwin leave you in this harsh enviorment to die? Did he find out you were going to leave him?

"Salauddin!" You called out to him again, your voice wet from all the crying. This time, he rode his horse towards you. Fast. He needed to get to you, even though the galloping hurt his shoulder. Yes, he got wounded while he was fighting. He sustained many injuries, many gashes, so much so that by the time he reached you, his white armour had turned bloody. But he was not bothered by it, no. He needed to reach you. You. How long have you been out here? Arent you dying of thirst?

Your arms were still wide open, though drooping from the lack of energy. He could hear you sobbing as you called him again, and he all but ran towards you, bodies colliding as he pulled you into a strong embrace. Muscled arms wrapped around you, comforting you that he's here now. You're safe now.

Salauddin looked around as you bawled into his chest, trying to see if everyone had really abandoned you here and... left you die.

You pulled away from him, but Salauddin didnt remove his hands from you. And thats when he felt the cloth you were wearing. It was too thin. The sun must've burned your skin now. Is that why you're crying? You're in pain?

In a blink, he removed his own thick black chadar that rested on his shoulders and wrapped it around you, pulling it over your head to stop more heat damage.

"Y/n?" He spoke softly as you continued to cry so brokenly as he adjusted the cloth over your body. "What happened?"

"Y-you left me!" You blubbered. He shook his head. "No. I- I left to go in battle. I couldnt take you along. It was dangerous-"

"You left me, Salauddin! You left me here! Baldwin- he hurt me! He hurt me so badly! And you weren't here to protect me!" You sobbed out, your eyes red and swollen from the tears. "I am a part of the ummah! I am a Muslim! You- you were supposed to keep me safe! On your honour, I was in your care! Why didnt you save me, Salauddin?"

Salauddin felt his heart being crushed at your words. He failed to keep you safe? But... he was at war. What was he supposed to do?

He grabbed your shoulders, pulling you to his chest as he rubbed circles into your back. "I'm sorry." He whispered, shushing you as your body shook from tears. "I'm here now. I promise to keep you safe, Y/n. I will never leave you again. I will never let anyone hurt you again. I swear, Allah as my witness, I will do everything to keep you safe." You pulled your head back from his chest, your red eyes looking at him weakly.

"You're too late, Salauddin." You whispered and a sharp sound whooshed through the air, making your body jolt in his arms. You both looked down and thats when he saw it-

An arrow. Poking through your chest.

"Y/n?" His voice trembled, watching the life drain out of your eyes.

You fell, and so did Salauddin, catching your body. He couldnt- he couldnt believe it. He cradled you in his arms, readjusting the chadar over you again, softly calling your name.

Wake up. Wake up, Y/n. Return to me.

Footsteps approached him, though he couldnt bare to tear his eyes from you. He already knew who it was.

"Why?" Salauddin asked him.

Baldwin kneeled down to his level, staring at you for a moment before yanking his arrow out of you, making a stream of blood gush out. Salauddin panicked, tried to cover the gaping wound with his hand. He looked at Baldwin in disbelief. This... this was not the Baldwin he knew. Baldwin was never so cruel- so heartless.

"She deserved it." Baldwin stated before stabbing him in the chest.

Salauddin continued to hold you in his arms, watching Baldwin leave on his horse as you two bled out to your deaths in the middle of the desert.

Salauddin woke up with a jolt, his forehead sweaty as he breathed fast. He could feel his heart beating against his chest loudly.

Nightmare. Thats all it was. He was still in his bed, in his tent.

He got up to fetch himself some water, taking sips to slow down his heart. Judging from the darkness, he knew it was still nighttime. It was quiet, everyone was asleep except for a few men he left to guard them.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Salauddin whipped around just in time to knock the shadowy figure standing behind him with a sword. In a second, Salauddin had overpowered and snapped his neck, only then realising more shadows moving outside his tent.

"We're under attack! WAKE UP!" He yelled before grabbing his two swords and running out to defend his caravan.

You woke up to screaming and Isabella pulling you out of bed.

"We're under attack!" She says, yanking you out of the women's camp that was set on fire. Your eyes were wide and for a moment, you were frozen as you took the scene in front of you.

Fire. There was fire everywhere. All the camps were ablaze, along with some people being burned alive. Haunting screams echoed the entire area. Time slowed down as you saw Salauddin's men fighting... some people. You couldnt figure out who they were, but you knew they werent the knights Baldwin had assigned for you. No, you saw them fighting these mysterious figures as well. They were covered in dark clothes to blend in with the night, had hoods and masks covering their faces but they fought skilfully and very fast.

"Princess, we must leave!" Isabella caught your attention again, dragging you away from the chaos. You saw her following a knight- your knight, who led you towards a horse for you to escape with.

Salauddin... where's Salauddin?

You looked back frantically and you spotted him in the sea of flames, cutting through multiple armed one with his two swords slicing them brutally.

For a moment, your eyes met and then in the next, he screamed your name.

Isabella had pushed you away just in time as two men came at you with swords. You knight yelled at you to run. Again, Isabella pulled you to make an escape but it wasnt long before you two got separated by a woman who was on fire, running in between you two.

"H-help her." You told Isabella who took of her shawl to put out the fire. In the middle of all this commotion, you heard a distinct cry.

A baby's cry.

Jibrael!

It was coming from one of the tents. You ran in, looking around for the baby before spotting the bassinet. You grabbed the crying baby and held it close to your chest, trying to shush it as you walked towards the exit only to halt when you saw who was blocking it.

The shadowy figure. He was wearing dark hood and mask, while the rest of his armour was made of leather. He was armed with swords, daggers and a satchel.

It clicked. Assassin.

The assassin stared at you with dark eyes taking a step forward. You backed away, holding the crying baby protectively to your chest. He tilted his head at you, and for a second, you thought you saw amusement in his eyes.

Slowly, he walked out of the tent without saying a word but he stood right behind the curtain of the tent. You saw his shadow pull out his sword before standing there still.

What is he doing?

You turned around, hoping to find another exit but thats when you saw it. Two more shadows stood outside the tent and then they dropped something on the tent walls.

Fire. They lit the entire tent on fire and stood outside with their swords, giving you the choice to either die by their swords or burn yourself alive.

The fire spread fast, burning the flammable tent easily. Dark smoke started to surround you making you cough. The baby continued to cry harshly and you pulled him under your chadar to protect him from the fire and smoke.

But you didnt realise it until it was too late. Your chadar, your clothes had caught on fire as well. You screamed for help, screamed in agony as your skin burned. It felt like you were being branded, felt like someone was ripping your skin off.

Is this it? Is this how it all ends for you? Suffocated, skin charred, body naked? In a period where no one knows who you really are?

You fell to your knees before hunching over the baby, cradling it in your arms as its harsh cries burst your ears, protecting him from being burned for as long as you can.

Allah... Allah... Allah...

Through the thick smoke, a figure ran and covered your body with a thick cloth, patting down to put out the flames.

He picked your trembling body up, your arms still wrapped around the baby protectively. He walked through the ablaze tent, his face still covered by the smoke, or perhaps your vision was too blurry.

He exited the tent, the smoke cleared out and a gush of air filled your lungs. But you were burned, suffocated and exhausted.

The last thing you saw before your world faded to black was Salauddin's face.

You woke up to the sound of Quran recitation. A gentle, steady voice read the words beautifully.

Fluttering your eyes open, you looked around the room for the source. To your side, you found Salauddin reciting the Quran with his eyes closed in concentration. Was he a hafidh? (Hafidh is someone who has memorised the Quran completely).

He opened his eyes when finished reciting, looking stunned for a second to find you awake before a small smile graced his lips.

"We're in Egypt now." He informed you before concern washed over his face. "How are you feeling now? I changed your bandages in the morning, but I think its time to replace them." He grabbed the bowl of water and bandages on your side.

"B-bandages?" He stopped before understanding your confusion.

"You were in the tent when the assassins set it on fire. Your... clothes caught on fire, which stuck to your skin and burned it as well. I had to remove the remains of your clothes to treat your burns-"

"What?!" Your eyes looked down to confirm his words, he had indeed changed your clothes. "Why did you-" Your hands touched your face, heart sinking as you realised your veil was not there.

"You removed my niqaab?! My clothes?!" Your fury was only a disguise for your fear of what he'd seen, what he'd done to you in your vulnerable state.

He shook his head. "I had to do it as soon as we were safe. You were hurt-"

"Why? Why did you have to do it? Why not Isabella or any of the other women?!"

His face turned solemn. "Isabella... was gravely injured. She was in no position to look after you. Most people- most women from my tribe did not survive. The few who did were also wounded. The men... I just thought you wouldnt prefer someone you didnt know to look at you in such state." Salauddin looked at you, his eyes clear. "I did not do anything unbecoming of a man. Allah as my witness, I did not touch you with ill intent."

Perhaps it was the way he said it, or perhaps you just wanted to keep your mind at peace but... you believed him.

"How's Isabella now?" You let him change the dressings on your arms, watching him like a hawk as he moved quickly and carefully, no unnecessary touches or lingering that would make you uncomfortable. Even when he treated the the burns on the back of your legs, he worked fast, applying some balm on the red areas. The balm was like a cool gel against your irritated skin.

"She's better now. Just needed some rest." He replied as he finished wrapping the bandage on your legs. "Your back." Salauddin softly asked. You hesitated.

He sighed. "Y/n... I need to apply the balm or your skin will scar." You slowly turned around, holding your breath as you removed the robe from your back partially.

If he wanted to, he could've done anything when you were unconcious. You calmed yourself.

Again, Salauddin's hand worked fast, applying the balm quickly and placing some gauze over the marks. He pulled your robe over your back again, letting you turn around with a flushed face.

"My... my face?" You asked cautiously. You did not know if damage had been done there as well.

Salauddin understood you. "Fortunately, your face was save from the flames." He stood up and went over to the wardrobe to grab you a white chadar, handing it to you so that you cover your head with it. "Maybe when you were ducking over Jibrael, your arms covered both you and him from the fire."

"Jibrael...?" You asked. He smiled assuringly. "He's fine. You saved him... again." You sigh in relief. At least this wasnt all for naught.

Salauddin sits back down in the chair and though you've covered your hair with the shawl, he keeps his eyes trailed down on his hands in his lap. "I must ask you of one thing." You peeked at him before keeping your eyes focused on your lap as well.

"Will you... tell Baldwin about this incident?" Why would you when it would only cause Baldwin to panic and prevent you from leaving the castle, or his sight at all? You still need to come here to get parts for your time machine and even if the machine was working, you need to be able to use it without Baldwin or his army of knights breathing down your neck.

"No. It will only cause misunderstandings between you and him and I need to punish the real culprit for it."

He frowned but didn't raise his gaze. "And who might that be?"

"Those men... they were assassins, right?" He hummed. "Judging by how vicious they were, I think they were Ismailis."

Ismailis were a sect of Shia Muslims. Basically, like the great schism of Christianity into Orthodox and Catholic Church, Islam also had a schism that divided it into Sunni and Shia Islam. Shia Islam further had divided into different sects, of which one was Ismailis.

Sunni and Shia Muslims have been at war with each other since the beginning over religious differences. And considering Salauddin was not only Sunni Muslim but also targeted many Ismaili assassins so that they would not oppose his rule, it would be an understatement that they wanted Salauddin dead.

But... you know Salauddin had already gotten rid of most of the assassins and established his dominance over them. You're sure he's already had a peace treaty with them.

"Salauddin, you have an agreement with the Ismailis, don't you?" You watched his eyes widen slightly. "You're on peaceful terms with them at the moment?"

"How did you know?" Of course, the great Sultan Salauddin, an orthodox Sunni, wouldn't want the world to know that he spared the Ismailis. No, that would stir rumours that Salauddin has empathy for Ismailis, for the Shias, and which would lead to the rumours of hum being a Shiite Muslim.

You waved him off. "I know your character. I know of your mercy. Besides, I know both you and the Ismailis have a bigger common enemy- the Christians. Its more than likely that the Ismailis are supporting you so that you defeat Baldwin and claim Jerusalem, then they can focus on you. Plus, if the Ismailis wanted to kill you, why wait until now? They know you've been camping outside Jerusalem for months now." Salauddin was... impressed by your deduction skills to say the least. How are you connecting the dots so fast? Just who are you, Y/n?

You rubbed your chin. "So that means that someone not only hired the assassins but also wants us to think that the Ismailis were behind it all." Who could it be? Someone who wants to harm Salauddin but... they also wanted to harm you. It couldnt be the Roman Catholics or other Christians. No, they'd know better than to interfere with Baldwin, their Holy Emperor's war. Especially not with his wife-to-be in harms way. Who... who would know that you're with Salauddin and still attempt an assassination-

"Guy." You muttered, pinching the nose of your bridge. Of course, its fucking Guy, shit for brains Guy who cant sit still and wait his turn to play king.

"Guy? Why would he attack me when you're still here?" Salauddin's mind immeadiately gives an answer as soon as he asks out loud.

"Because I am here." You groan. "He's trying to eliminate us both, or at the very least- me, while I'm with you so that he can provoke Baldwin to go to war with you because you "killed" his future wife. He would tell Baldwin that it doesnt matter if they were Ismailis or not, we were all Muslims and this is just how Muslims are! He'd send Baldwin off to not only go to war with you but rather go to war with Muslims everywhere! And knowing Guy, he probably hopes that Baldwin dies in the process of his rampage. If you, me or Baldwin are all dead, or even one of us is, then Guy will only have to worry about dealing with one less person. His best bet was probably to get rid of me and you both, then have Baldwin go to war with all the Muslims who killed his fiancee. He's using all of us as pawns so that he gets to sneak on to the throne and be king!"

You heard Salauddin sigh. Perhaps he agreed with your theory. Perhaps he didnt. Whatever he may think, you know he will still conduct a thorough investigation of his own to find out who the real culprit is,

"Dont worry, I will deal with Guy. In fact, I'll let you have him to slaughter as you please." Of course, Salauddin will kill Guy. He has to pay for the blood of all his people.

Salauddin watched you get up from the bed and walk towards the vanity. "How long will these take to heal?" You asked, referring to your burns. "Usually take about a month, but the balm I used will significantly fade the marks." Good. You dont need Baldwin freaking out over them.

He stood up to take his leave. "I'll check on what information they've been able to gather from the assassin we caught. You-" He pointed towards the bed. "Rest. I mean it. These burns will only get worse in the heat outside, thats why I gave you the coolest room in the palace." He continued to glare at you until you finally sighed and sat on the bed. "I have to go see Isabelle-" You tried but he raised his hand. "No. You are to stay here, in your room. No one gets in, and no one gets out. I dont trust anyone to not try to kill you, not even in your own entourage- whatever is left of them. My men are stationed right outside. If you need anything, you tell them. But you are not to leave your chambers."

"I'll see you at dinner." He left and you saw the guards stationed outside your door.

The great thing about Egyptian palaces was that they had big windows to allow for ventilation. So you were already out of the window and climbing along the edge. You were about to jump when you heard someone call you.

"P-princess?!" Isabelle looked at you in horror. Apparently, you had climbed down near the balcony of her room. "Oh hey, Isabelle! How are you now?"

"I- I'm fine- princess, please get down from there!" She practically begged, fearing for your life. You climbed over her balcony and hugged her. "I'm so glad you're okay! Because I need you to do me a favour." You gave her a sweet smile while she looked at you in confusion. "See, I need to go out for a bit but Salauddin has told me to stay in and rest. So... I need you to cover for me again, just like last time."

"I- what- princess-"

"I wouldnt ask you if it wasnt of grave importance." You pleaded, finally making her give in. "Okay, I'll go to your room-" You stop her when she begins walking away.

"You cant just walk in there. There's guards stationed there and they wont let you in."

"Then how am I supposed to get in?"

You smiled at her. She didnt like that smile. It wasnt... well meaning.

"Well..." You looked at the balcony and she followed your gaze, almost immediately coming to tears.

"Princess please-"

"I am right here. I will help you, I promise Isabelle! I wont let you fall."

After helping a trembling Isabelle climb into your room, you had finally made your way to the madrassa. You had covered your face with your chadar and sneaking inside was no feat.

Abbas jumped out of his seat the moment you entered.

"Y/n! I thought you forgot all about me- wait what happened to your hands?" He referred to the bandages.

"I had an accident while conducting an experiment." "What experiment? Can I be a part of it? Please please please-"

"Abbas." You silenced him. "Business first. Did you make the tools I asked you to?" He quickly ran to his desk and pulled them out from the drawer. You examined them. They werent the best but you could make do with them. You nodded before asking for a paper so that you could draw the last few bits you needed.

"I need these by the end of this week." Abbas chuckled. "Oh I thought you were joking. How do you expect me to build- whatever this is! in a week? No way. I would need to get all the material and-"

"Abbas. I need it this week. I dont care how, but you have to do it."

He looked at you suspiciously. "Maybe if you could just tell me what it is that you're making-"

"No. I cant. And you will make me this by the end of the week, if not earlier because I have a very good reward waiting for you."

Abbas rolled his eyes. "I dont need your money-"

"I will let you ask me anything you want. Any question on any topic you'd like." You knew Abbas's thirst for knowledge.

You saw the twinkle in his eyes. "I will still take the money." "Of course, but I'll pay you after you make me this." He sighed and agreed.

"Wait- check this please?" He handed you his journal that had some math equations. You huffed, grabbing his pen and working on the mistakes. "I'm doing this just so that you do my work." You gave him some other math problems you did in grade 8 and handed it back to him.

You turned to leave before pausing.

"Abbas?" He hummed. "I think... we should set some security measures." You whispered.

"Whatever for?"

"Just in case someone came looking for me or my work. You know you're not supposed to tell anyone about this."

"I couldnt even if I wanted to." He tilted his head. "Why would someone come looking for you? Are you in trouble?"

You shake your head. "No. But you're aware of how other... scholars are eager to steal ideas." He nodded, being a victim of such crime.

"What do you have in mind?"

Salauddin was informed when you had returned to the palace. Of course he knew the moment you left. This was his Egypt. Not a bird flies without his knowledge here.

He sent out a spy after you, both to keep you safe and to follow you around. He couldnt help but let out a huff when he was told of your daring climb out of the window. Didnt he tell you to stay in bed?

"This girl..." He grumbles.

The spy told him that you went inside the madrassa. Why? What business could you possibly have there?

Perhaps you're creating a poison? To kill Baldwin? No, there would be easier ways to get poison. You did tell him and Baldwin that you were going to Egypt to find your family, but he has a hard time believing that.

Just what were you upto?

He'll find out soon enough. This is his kingdom, he finds out things. And he'll find out your secret too.

He knocked on your door before entering. You were sitting on your bed, your face now covered with a niqaab and your hair with his white chadar. His clothes. He felt something warm in his heart at the thought.

"How are you now?" He asked, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm fine. Just bored waiting here all day." You sighed exasperatedly.

Such a liar.

"I apologise for not being able to entertain you. I was busy with the assassin." You looked at him in anticipation. "He didn't reveal much but he did say that they were hired. I suppose that would bring us closer to your theory."

He watched your eyes narrow in thought. "It has to be Guy. He knew I was going to the desert to you first. He needed to get rid of me without anything to come back on him. Coward."

The door was knocked.

"I hope you dont mind- I had them bring dinner up here." Salauddin explained, letting the servants in. They set down a dastarkhawan in the balcony. A red table cloth was set on the ground, onto which many dishes were placed. You both sat down on cushions, the area was lit up with candles placed. You were busy admiring the view of the pyramids from your seat while Salauddin poured you some ginger kehwa.

"Here." You lifted your niqaab a bit to sip the hot tea, a sigh escaping your lips. Salauddin's lips quirked a bit but he, like you, kept his eyes focused on the pyramids.

You picked up the plate of dates from your side, knowing how fond he is of them. "Here." You mimicked his voice, making him smile as he grabbed a piece.

You both silently ate, admiring the view and enjoying each others presence.

Some time later, you were both done with dinner and just sat in silence. That is until Salauddin spoke.

"I'm sorry." You looked at him. "For letting you get hurt."

You exhaled, trailing your eyes back towards the night sky that was littered with gleaming stars.

"I know. But you shouldnt be, Salauddin. I'm not made of porcelain."

I know. I saw you jumping off the palace walls with the confidence of an assassin and the grace of a headless chicken.

"Still, you're under my care. I am responsible for you-"

"I free you of this burden." You're not a burden. "I am not that hurt and I am not scarred for life. If anything, all that incident made me question is just how far would man go?" Your eyes glazed over as you recalled the incident in the tent, where the assassin left you and the baby to burn to death. You could understand killing you, but a baby? He was willing to let a baby burn?

"It makes me believe just how barbaric people were to the Ahl al-Bayt (family of Prophet Muhammad PBUH). How easy it was for them to slaughter his lineage, how easy it was for them to keep water from them, how their hearts did not halt for a moment when they heard the cries of Ali Asghar- who they killed with an arrow in the neck." Your eyes glistened. "A baby. He was just a baby. How would've his father felt in that moment, holding his dead son in his arms, knowing he had to bring him home to his wife?" The battle of Karbala was one of the most heart wrenching tragedies of Islam and whats worse is that Prophet Muhammad knew of it years before it happened. He knew his own grandsons will face martyrdom years before it actually happened, when they were just little children in his arms.

"Man is cruel." Salauddin stated.

"But Allah made man. Why... would he allow man to be so cruel? Even animals are not this merciless." You wondered.

"Because man cannot see God." He says. "There are signs of His existence, signs for those who wish to be guided. Animals can see God. Angels can see God. Humans... Allah has made us with the ability to think, to choose. Man chooses to be cruel when he forgets that Allah is watching, that these things- the stones, the trees, everything around him? They're all living beings who will testify against man." He smiles. "But that is why the true believers also have a greater reward in the hereafter. What do you think of the reward, of what you'll get when you enter heaven? You dream of wealth, of food, of all luxuries. But there's a greater reward waiting for us. Do you know what that is?"

You gave a slight shake of your head.

"The true believers will see Allah. They will get to meet their Lord, their Creator, the One who saw them through it all, the One who knows their secrets and kept them hidden, the One continued to shower His blessings upon them even when they were not grateful." Those words... they comforted you. How peaceful it is to the heart to hear that your Creator waits for you. The One who has seen you shed tears and took care of you in this world will also take care of you in the next. And at the same time, this is such devastating news for the sinners too. Those who act selfishly, who forget who their Lord is, they will end up in hell and will never get the opportunity to see their Creator again, to ask of mercy from the most Merciful.

"Still..." You mumbled, wanting to find an excuse for such wickedness.

"It is not our place to ask why, Y/n. Allah does not owe us answers, explanations. He already has given us His book for guidance, his prophets for example. But know this- everything happens for a reason. Maybe the battle of Karbala was just to show us how quick man can turn on his own. Perhaps in the future, a time will come when people will kill many women and children, slaughter men so brutally while the entire world watches and yet... no one does anything. And then people will wonder- surely, man is not so evil. Surely, man wouldn't kill innocent children. Perhaps then they will remember history."

Salauddin woke up with a sigh. He had gone to sleep after he left your room last night, but he woke up from yet another dream he had of you. You. You. You. Since that night in the desert, he's been having constant dreams about you. Its either you dying at the hands of Baldwin or Guy, or its you asking him to help you. Tonight, he dreamt of you two celebrating Ramadan together, with you picking up the plate and offering him dates, however unlike dinner, you were sitting much closer to him in his dream, by his side. So close, he could see himself in your eyes.

Salauddin wasnt vain enough to admit it to himself- he had feelings for you. But what were they?

Lust? Not really, he's seen far prettier women than you. Beauty... is subjective and Salauddin is a firm believer in "beauty is in the eye of the beholder".

Admiration? No. He admires your intelligence and your wit but Salauddin also has those qualities.

Infatuation? Sure he does think about you often during the day but not enough to call it obsession.

No, its love. It has to be. His heart doesnt know what exactly it is about you that draws him in. His mind doesnt comprehend why he feels like you belong with him but his soul, every fibre of his being screams that you do.

Allah has created someone for someone. He created Eve for Adam, He creates a woman from the rib of the man.

Salauddin touches the side of his chest, just above his abdomen.

Perhaps you're his missing rib.

You were smart, you were daring, you were also stupid enough to put yourself in harms way but it was... endearing. More importantly, you were the only person who could bicker with him, stand your ground against him and get away with it too.

He sat down on a chair, looking out at the pyramids. Like the man he's named after (Prophet Yusuf/Joseph), Salauddin believes in dreams having meaning. Perhaps its a way for God to talk to you, to warn you or guide you.

And from all his dreams about you, he's come to interpret it that he must save you from Baldwin... and everyone else. And he can save you- he can save you without you having to go through the trouble to be plotting against Baldwin and endangering yourself by working with Guy.

He could marry you.

If you were to marry Salauddin, you would become the queen of Egypt and the wife of the strongest Muslim leader of the time. Not only that but the entire ummah, Muslims around the world will come together as one to fight against Baldwin, against anyone who dares to harm you. You would be safe, you would be secure by his side as his wife.

But the plan is easier said than done.

Baldwin wouldnt backdown so easily. He would wreak havoc and if he's as obsessed with you as Salauddin has seen him, then he wouldnt stop at nothing to get you back. Baldwin will have to be dead for you to be safe from him.

Besides Baldwin, you yourself also are a hurdle. You havent shown any interest in him (which is understandable because you're engaged) but he doubts you're interested in marrying anyone at all. You're not one to be affected his wealth or status, you dont go for materialistic things. He's sure if he were to ask your hand, you would laugh hysterically and then maybe try mocking him. And Salauddin does not want to force you to marry him. He wants you to want him.

There is a way he could convince you. All he has to do is make himself look better than any man, especially Baldwin because you do seem to have a soft spot for him despite trying to sabotage him.

A sinister idea comes to mind.

What if Baldwin breaks up with you?

If Baldwin, for any reason, decides not to marry you then not only will you be free from him but a war will be avoided.

All Salauddin has to do is give Baldwin a reason to break up with you. He could send some concubines to him, but he doubts Baldwin would use them. And even if he did, it isnt reason enough for him to call off things with you. No, the only way Baldwin would break up with you is... if you're unfaithful to him. You dont need to cheat, dont need to sleep with any man. No, you dont have to do anything at all. All he has to do is make sure you're in the right place at the right time and Baldwin's there too, just enough to create doubt in his mind. And the ball will roll from there. Baldwin will continue to second guess your loyalty to him until he's driven himself insane. Then he'd leave you without ever punishing you for a crime he thinks you committed but has no proof of. Thats when Salauddin will swoop in as your knight in shining armour and you'll see that all men but him are shit and you'll say yes to his proposal-

No.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. Despite it being a perfect plan, the safest plan- Salauddin cant bare to stain your character. He cannot spread a rumor about you being unfaithful. He cannot have anyone talk badly of you, even if it will end up with you in his arms. You're important to him. And if you ever figure out that Salauddin was the one behind it all, you'd never forgive him. You would never trust him.

The thought of you not trusting him, just like you dont trust him enough to tell him why you sneaked out of the palace, it hurts him. He doesnt know why but he wants you to trust him- trust him enough that you come to him with your problems and have faith that he will solve them for you. He will keep you safe. He will protect you.

He will have to find another way.

Salauddin offered the morning prayer before reciting the Quran, asking Allah for guidance for his problems and good health for you.

He walked out of his room and turned to the corridor where your room was, only to find you sneaking out of the room with Isabelle. You were still wearing his white chaddar, and it engulfed your small body like a blanket as you hurriedly walked down-

You tripped on the bottom of the long chaddar and fell face first.

"Princess!" Isabelle cried out as she helped you up, but you quickly dusted yourself off and continued talking her ear off as if nothing had happened, the tail of the chaddar trailing behind you as Isabelle walked beside you to keep up with what you were saying.

"Idiot..." He whispered to himself, though he was smiling. He called a servant and ordered him to bring the finest chaddars and niqaabs for you. He cant have you tripping all over the place because you wear his chaddar that was too big for you, despite how adorable you looked in it.

You knocked on his door.

"Salauddin, I was going to the market-"

"And you came to ask for permission? Okay, granted." He waved you off with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. "Where do you get the audacity- nevermind. I came to ask if you'd lend me a few gold coins? I need to buy some things, souvenirs if you will." You had lost your coin purse in the desert and you need to pay Abbas.

He raised a brow. "What do you need? I can have it brought to you here."

You pursed your lips. Why is he being difficult? "I dont know what I need until I look. Just give me some money, I promise to pay you back as soon as I can."

He stood up, walking upto you but you neither backed away nor moved your eyes from him. "Its not about the money." He pulled out a pouch and dropped it in your hands. "I worry for your safety. Who knows how many others Guy has hired to kill you? I'm coming along."

"Aww, you're worried about me? That's so sweet-"

"I wouldnt want my image to tarnish because a guest died in my care." Your smile dropped as you grumbled something under your breath.

"Whatever. I still dont need you to tag along-"

"Good thing about being the sultan is that I dont need anyone's permission." He cut you off before walking past you. You stomped after him. "Salauddin, dont you have work-"

"You can either come with me or stay in your room for the rest of your stay here." He stated.

"What?" He heard you snicker beside him. Your eyes twinkled with amusement. "Oh, its just these rags suit you a lot." Salauddin and his guards had worn disguises to blend in with the commoners. He didnt want to draw attention to you two.

He rolled his eyes. "I have to blend in for your safety-" "I have never looked more in danger than I do right now. Look around and see people staring at a lady dressed so modestly is surrounded by brooding men wearing rags." You giggled as Salauddin looked around to see some people were indeed looking your way.

You stopped at a small stall that was selling some jewellery. You were looking at some rings, trying to choose something for Sibylla. The shopkeeper, an old man must've seen Salauddin standing over your shoulder looking around for any suspicious men.

"Son, why dont you help your wife pick something? Focus on her!" The shopkeeper said, catching you both off guard. You looked at Salauddin and laughed at his surprised face. Continuing to pull his leg, you stared up at him and batted your lashes. "Well, husband? What do you think would suit me?" You asked raising two different earrings to your face. One had a ruby in it, the other had sapphire.

He looked at you for a moment.

"Neither."

Your smile underneath your veil vanished, and you placed the earrings back on the table.

"The blue opal ones." He nodded his head as the shopkeeper handed him the tear drop gold earrings that had the precious stones fixed in it. He brought the earrings near your face, never touching it as his eyes assessed his pick.

"They bring out your eyes." He said before paying the old man and giving them to you, all while you were looking at him in awe.

"Wait! Why did you pay? I had the money." You two had begun walking again. "You mean the money I gave you?" You frowned. "I'm gonna pay you back." He smiled. "You dont need to. I have enough. As for the earrings... consider them a gift."

"Gift?"

He hummed, his chest puffed up. "Part of the hospitality of the sultan."

You glared at him before smiling. "Thanks." You two continued to walk around the market, Salauddin gave alms to the poor he encountered. You were standing at another stall, watching in fascination as the man ground up the black powder and mixed it with oils to make kohl. He filled it up in a beautiful vessel before asking if you'd like to try it.

"Oh, I dont know how to." Especially not without a mirror, which the man didnt have. But he was persistent to sell his product and when he looked at Salauddin's kohl lined eyes, he offered it to him.

"Would you apply it on your wife?" This time, Salauddin didnt react like he did the earlier when he was associated with you. He took the wooden stick dipped in the kohl and looked at you for permission.

You gave a nod. He walked upto you, gently cupping your veil covered face. You thanked God for the niqaab, or else he would've seen how violently you were blushing.

"Chin up." He whispered before tilting your chin up. Your eyes shifted as they stared into his brown ones. "Open wide." He ordered, even though your eyes were already saucer shaped from the close proximity.

He began tracing the soft edge of the stick along the waterline of your right eye. He seemed to have noticed that you were holding your breath. "Relax." He softly commanded, patting your cheek with his thumb. That broke you out of your trance as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Dont tell me what to do." You grumbled. "Open wide." He ordered again bringing the stick up to your left eye for a second coat. You hated the way he commanded you, hated that he seemed to be having his fun with this.

"Dont order-"

"If you dont listen to me, I will marry you today." Your eyes blew wide open in shock.

"What-?!"

"Hush." He smiled placing kohl on your now wide eyes. "Whats wrong? You seemed to enjoy playing my wife but when I joke to marry you, you dont like it."

He's... joking?

Without realising, you blinked causing the still wet kohl to spread in your eyes. Salauddin had pulled the stick back just in time to not poke your eye out.

You hissed in pain, raising your hand to rub your eyes but Salauddin caught your wrist pushing it down.

"Open your eyes, Y/n. Look at me. I said- look at me." You opened your eyes to stare at him, your vision blurry from the mixture of tears and kohl.

Salauddin grabbed his handkerchief and began to dab the excess away as he tutted at you to stay still. Once he was done wiping the excess away, he blew cold air on your irritated eyes gently.

"I swear... if you dont sit still, I really will marry you today." He threatened you as he watched your red eyes glare at him. He didnt like that you were in pain, even if your own stupidity was the cause of it. This time when he applied kohl, you didnt dare to move an inch.

Fortunately, he worked faster this time around.

He gave a nod of approval when he was done. You dont know whether it was because he liked how your eyes looked now or if he was admiring his own work.

Salauddin handed the man money before taking a few bottles of kohl.

For the next hour, you two walked around in silence mostly. The image of your kohl lined eyes occupied his mind, not only because of how beautiful they were but also all the emotions that switched in a matter of seconds. You could try and hide your feelings all you want but your eyes tell. The eyes... they're the window to one's soul.

He saw attraction, anger, mesmerisation, disgust and pain in your eyes. Or maybe he's overthinking this. Maybe it was all just momentary and you really do hate the idea of being married to him.

You were both standing at yet another shop, this one was selling dates. Salauddin walked inside the shop a little more to inspect the quality of the dates, expecting you to be following behind him but when he turned around, you were gone. He walked outside the shop, hoping to find you there but it seemed like you had vanished. Even his guards hadnt seen you.

And then, as Salauddin whipped his head around, he saw the silloutte of your chadar disappearing around the corner. He ran after you, hoping to not lose you in the crowd but as soon as he turned around the corner, he couldnt spot you anywhere. He ran down the street, looking left and right but you werent there.

Where are you, Y/n?

He began walking back towards the main street when in the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of a familiar chadar. He turned his head to the right and there you were, standing with your back to him under the shadow of the large canopy of the shop talking to some man.

He walked up behind you, the man you were talking to seeing him first.

"Y/n." He snapped. You turned startled before your shoulders relaxed at the sight of him. "Oh, its just you. Did you buy the dates?"

Dates? You're asking him about dates after you just made his heart stop for a few minutes?

"Why did you leave me?" Ya Allah, that came out way more desperate than he wanted it to.

"I was getting something from this man." He raised a brow, almost as if he didnt believe you. You sighed. "This is Abbas. I hired him to make some things for me?"

"Such as?" You narrowed your eyes at his accusatory tone before nodding at Abbas, who then pulled out a heaxagonal shaped board that looked somewhat similar to a-

"Its 3 people chess!" You exclaimed, bouncing on your feet as you handed it to Salauddin. "I designed it and had Abbas make it for you!"

"For me?" He asked, turning the board around as he tried to understand how it would work.

"Yeah. I wanted to thank you for saving my life. And for your hospitality. And for lending me money."

His eyes softened slightly. "You dont need to thank me, Y/n. Its... my duty. I'm responsible for you." You waved him off. "Yeah yeah. Look, just take this and I'll teach you how to play so that one day you could play it with your wife and... kid? Or maybe with your wife and Baldwin? Or two wives-?"

"Y/n, I appreciate the gift but I would appreciate your silence more now." You pouted at his words but never the less, you both left to return to the palace, unaware of the eyes watching you two.

The mysterious figure wrote down what he'd seen before using messenger eagle to deliver the note to Jerusalem.

It had almost been a week in Egypt. You and Salauddin were having lunch together when a guard came to him and whispered something in his ear, the sultan frowning.

"Whats wrong?" You asked him.

He looked at you. "Baldwin... he's coming to Egypt."

"What? When?"

"He's crossed the desert. He should be getting here today, in a few hours." Salauddin was still frowning. Why is Baldwin coming to Egypt?

You shook your head. "Baldwin wouldnt ever leave Jerusalem, not unless..." Your eyes widened at the realisation.

"He's coming for a war." Salauddin confirmed.

Fuck.

Part 7 is here!

#yandere baldwin #yandere salauddin #baldwin iv #the leper king #king baldwin iv #salauddin #time traveller au #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n

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chloe-petrichors · 11 days

Text

seething, blooming // jace x reader

your father has always been something of an opportunist, but trying to marry you off to the blacks while he courts the greens? this is taking playing the game to a whole new level.

the rose discovers she is an instrument of war. —victor hugo.

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!tyrell!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon au (set after aegon takes the crown but before luke's death bc luke will never die in my eyes), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s), arranged marriage, mention parental death/death in childbed (reader's mother), love at first sight vibes, jace is a flirtatious little shit with his betrothed, tooth rotting fluff, love confessions. word count; 6k+ notes; one day i might write for another man. but that day is not today. jace velaryon u have my heart. i'm not majorly pleased w this fic but it's given me enough trouble and it's as good as it's gonna get! this was longer originally, and was meant to be a bit more political at first hence the blurb/quote choice, but i haaated some of the scenes so ended up scrapping 'em. she's not as long as predicted as a result but still an ok length i think. some of the scenes i scrapped were tragically the smut ones, so have this fairly pg one-shot with the promise of the smut-shot sitting in my drafts coming ur way soon. fair warning that the scrapping of scenes has fudged with the pacing a bit but honestly i can't take this fic sitting in my drafts any longer so here u go!! i have a taglist now, mostly cos eldrith keeps telling me i have to tag her in everything, so lmk if you'd like to be added to it! requests; are open !

the rising sun paints highgarden in shades of pink and gold.

you stand upon your balcony, finger curled loosely over the pale marble as you stare distantly out over the rolling green fields and blooming gardens. the faint bubbling of the river mander in the distance adds to the peaceful morning, the early wash of sunlight coaxing the sleeping world into life. a cool breeze carries the sweet smell of roses and you take a steadying breath, eyes fluttering shut as you tilt your face up to the sun.

it's a morning that starts like many others. you’ve always risen from bed early, the slow blooming of morning stirring you from slumber more often than not. birds chirp and bees buzz and the river flows and you rise with it, like part of you calls to the breaking dawn.

if not for the thick sheaf of parchment discarded on your father’s desk, it could be a morning like any other. but the parchment is there, and this day will be like no other before it.

today, a dragon is expected at highgarden.

a targaryen has not stepped foot in the reach since before you were born. you don’t think even the princess rhaenyra – queen, now, according to some – had come this far on her marriage tour years ago. but your father has taken it upon himself to invite a prince to your home.

you love your father deeply, but in this you think he must be a fool. as lord paramount of the reach he is, in theory, the power of this kingdom. but anyone with a lick of sense knows that it’s the hightowers that the people look to; oldtown is home to the starry sept, the citadel and, perhaps more importantly, the dowager queen’s family line.

the tyrells have only been in power for a few generations, and people’s memories are long. too many know the truth of how house tyrell had been only a steward when the gardener kings had ruled before the conquest. and so too many see tyrell as a house grasping for power that should be beyond their fingers, and your father is apparently determined to prove them all right.

he’s been careful about his neutrality as war threatens to break out between the targaryen kin, brother and sister both claiming their right to the throne and the realm splitting down the middle. your father has not officially allied with either side, walking a careful tightrope to appease both. up until now you had assumed he sided more with the greens, but he’d sent your assumptions crumbling with only a few sheets of parchment.

your father has always been too ambitious for his own good.

gods, how you miss your mother. when she’d been alive, she’d tempered the worst of your father’s foolishness. she’d been a stark before she’d married, steadfast and sensible in the face of your father’s folly. she’d been a woman unlike any other you’ve known; ferocious and a little wild, but with a good heart and a warm smile for any she’d met.

she’d taught you how to be a lady, but so much more than that – she’d taught you to know your own mind. to know when to mind your tongue and when to speak, how to grow your roots so deep you will always stand tall, flourishing and growing like the most determined of flowers. she’d taught you a little of that northern ice, too, reminding you oft that for as much as you were a rose of highgarden you were equally a wolf of the north, and the wolf’s blood has always run thick in your veins.

she’d called you her little winter rose; delicate and steely and a rare bloom, indeed. she had loved you so fiercely you’d flourished with her tender care, just as the patch of winter roses she’d brought from the glass gardens of winterfell had bloomed ‘neath her careful ministrations. a piece of the north she’d brought south with her, a tiny bit of her home that she’d cradled and cared for until the day you’d lost her to the birthing bed.

your little brother is nearing six, now, and many moons have passed since the sudden grief of your mother had overwhelmed you. but, in recent days you have ached with her loss more often, wondering what she would think of your father’s plans, what she would say to soothe your storm of anxiety. with your looming marriage you find yourself missing your mother acutely, the grief a reopened wound in your chest.

because you are a betrothed woman, now, to be married to a stranger, a prince who is sure to be fighting a war against his kin in the moons to come.

the velaryon prince arrives on dragon back as the sun reaches its peak in the sky.

he dismounts his winged steed in an empty stretch of land a distance from the keep itself, and your father greets him there with a host of staff to accompany him back to the entrance courtyard.

your brother leo bounces in place beside you where you stand with the rest of the household in the courtyard, fairly vibrating with energy at the prospect of seeing a real-life dragon. since the news of the prince’s arrival was announced a sennight ago, leo has done little else but babble about dragons and magic and targaryens. you wish you could share his excitement, his sheer uncomplicated joy, but this visit comes with too many conflicting emotions for you to enjoy it at all.

you’ve always known you would not marry for love. you are the eldest child and only daughter of the lord of the reach – love has never been a factor you could afford to consider. you would do your duty and marry for your house, to seal whatever alliance your father deemed important enough. you’d resigned yourself to this fate as a young girl when your mother had told you in slow, halting words the fear she had felt coming south to marry your father.

but you’d not expected to marry a total stranger. you’d thought your father would at least do you the courtesy of allowing you to meet a suitor before betrothing you to them, but in his feverish ambition to sit his blood on the iron throne he’d promised you to a man you’ve never laid eyes upon.

you don’t want to be queen.

frankly, you think yourself a touch unsuited for it. your father has many times bemoaned your wildness, the wolfs blood that drives you to stubborn recklessness. though you’ve mellowed a little with age and experience, you think you’re still a bit too prone to chaos to be queen of the seven kingdoms one day. never mind the complexities added by the fact that queen rhaenyra’s claim is so fiercely contested, and her half-brother is the one currently physically sitting the iron throne.

thinking about the mess you’re marrying into too much makes your head ache, and the blazing noon sun does little to ease it. leo beside you continues to whisper rapidly about everything he knows about dragons, which is actually quite a lot considering his young age. you think absently you might need to have a word with the maester’s again; leo has wrapped most of the household around his finger, and the elderly maester is prone to indulging your brother when he fixates on a new topic of interest instead of sticking to his lessons.

the sound of hooves on cobble stones startles you from your meandering thoughts, and you straighten your spine as your eyes take in the unfamiliar man riding into the courtyard beside your father while your brother finally falls silent.

he’s handsome, at least; a tumble of dark curls brushing his shoulders, a sharp jaw and a strong nose. though you like to think yourself more than superficial, it eases at least some of your worries to know the prince is attractive to you. your mother had done you the courtesy of explaining what was expected of you on your wedding night after your first moons blood, and in secret since you’d perused the library for books detailing more lustful acts in an effort to satiate your unending curiosity.

you’re worried enough about completing your wifely duties without having to worry about finding the man lying with you repulsive, and so you allow yourself a few moments of relief at his pretty face.

your father dismounts first, gesturing for you to step forward as the prince gets down from his own horse. leo moves forward with you, eyes wide and shining with something akin to hero worship as he gazes at jacaerys. you have a wry thought that perhaps he should marry him since he is so clearly already enamoured, but you brush that aside as your father and the prince approach.

“i am most pleased to introduce my daughter, your grace, as well as my son and heir, leo,” your father says as they reach you, his satisfaction in his successful planning clear as he smiles smugly.

you dip into a perfect curtsey as leo bows a touch clumsily at your side. as heir it would traditionally be leo’s job to greet the prince, but when you send him a sidelong glance you see he is too busy making moon eyes at the darkhaired man to say anything, and so you take it upon yourself to speak.

“welcome to highgarden, my prince. we are honoured to host you,” you greet, finally meeting jacaerys’s eyes. they’re a warm amber shade, the noon sun turning them to liquid honey as he looks at you, and you feel your cheeks flush with the appreciation you can see in his gaze as he drinks you in. it seems he does not find you repulsive either, at least.

he sketches a quick bow, eyes never leaving yours, and you feel your heart start to race in your chest at his attention. “it is an honour to be here, my lady, and to finally make your acquaintance.” he smiles at you then, small and a little crooked but there, and your flush deepens. “i look forward to getting to know you better in the coming days.”

you swallow, hoping your budding attraction is not as obvious as you fear it is. your father is looking increasingly smug as he watches the interaction, though it seems to war with some paternal annoyance as jacaerys lightly flirts with you.

“and i you,” you return softly, a smile quirking on your lips.

“—can i meet your dragon?” leo bursts out, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer, and jacaerys blinks down at him in surprise as you resist the urge to press your palm to your face.

“leo,” you scold immediately as your father chortles at his heir’s enthusiasm for dragons. “the prince has had a long journey. you should give him a chance to settle in before demanding anything of him.”

“right you are, my dear.” your father waves to the household steward before turning to the prince. “alyn will show you to your rooms, your grace, so that you might freshen up, and then we have a feast prepared for this evening to welcome you to highgarden.”

jacaerys nods easily as the greeting crowd begins to disperse, the maester corralling leo to take him for his lessons with fond exasperation even as the boy loudly protests. you mean to go walk the gardens, and so you stay standing in place as the prince trails after your father and steward alyn.

he pauses beside you, though, a slight smile on his face as you look up at him questioningly. your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his face, and it takes a moment for you to process his words. “i look forward to speaking to you further at the feast, my lady.”

you smile back at him, cheeks flushing once again as his eyes linger on your mouth for a breathless moment. “i shall save you a dance, my prince,” you return a touch coyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“only one dance?” he teases, eyebrow arching.

you hum, head tilting to the side in mock consideration as something like satisfaction gleams in jacaerys’s eyes. “i shall have to use the first dance to judge your dancing skills, your grace, before i risk promising you another.”

he laughs then, a little surprised but no doubt pleased as his eyes crinkle with his wide smile. “then i shall do my best to meet your standards, my lady.” he dips into a quick bow of farewell, then, as you finally take note of your father lingering on the steps to the keep with raised eyebrows.

“we shall see,” you return as you curtsey.

you allow yourself a moment to watch his retreating back, eyes dragging over the strong line of his shoulders before you internally shake yourself and head to the gardens, thoughts swimming with honey brown eyes and tanned, freckled skin and a slow dawning certainty that while this betrothal may be unexpected, you doubt it will leave you unsatisfied.

the feast is in full swing by the time the prince arrives at the hall.

the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune as couples twirl on the dance floor. you sit at the head table with leo and your father, watching with a careful eye as your brother cuts up his food. he’s only just mastered the art of eating his food without spilling half if it down his doublet, but as distracted as he is by the festivities and the prospect of seeing a dragon close up, you worry he’s at risk of making a mess of himself regardless.

so absorbed in your task you are, it takes a long moment for you to realise jacaerys has arrived. it’s only when your skin prickles with awareness that you look up from leo and catch sight of the prince winding his way across the floor to the head table, eyes fixed on you. your head tilts to the side slightly as you watch him move, graceful and controlled, through the crowd.

he’s in black and red again, just as he had been when he’d arrived. it seems your father had been right when he’d stated that jacaerys favours his mother’s house colours. you smooth your hand over the skirts of your dress, the deep wine-red of the material feeling less out of place now, before standing with your father to greet the prince.

you all exchange pleasantries quickly as the noise in the hall dims, people realising the prince has arrived. your father ushers jacaerys into the empty seat between you and your father as he raises his goblet to the hall before speaking in his booming voice.

you don’t pay attention to your father’s speech, too aware of the warmth radiating from jacaerys who stands only inches from you to focus. you risk a glance at him from the corner of your eyes only to find his dark honey eyes fixed on you, and you cannot help but smile to yourself even as you flush, turning your eyes back to the crowd.

rousing applause and cheers draw you back to the moment, and you catch yourself in time to raise your wine in toast with your father. you go to sit back down as the crowd returns to its revelries, but the soft brush of a hand on your arm halts your movement. you turn expectingly to the prince, a soft smile on your lips.

“yes, your grace?”

“would you do me the honour of a dance, my lady?”

your lips quirk into a sly smile even as you bob your head in a nod. “i suppose i did promise you one, did i not?”

“that you did, my lady, and i have thought of nothing else since.” dark honey eyes sparkle with mirth as he offers you his hand, and with a quiet giggle you take it and allow him to lead you to the dance floor.

you feel the heat of his hand on your waist like a brand even through the layers of your dress, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. you inhale deeply in an effort to steady yourself as you rest your palm on his strong shoulder, and are immediately overwhelmed by the woodsy scent of him as he claps your hand in his and begins to dance.

you start the dance in comfortable silence, both of you taking a few moments to get a feel for the other and settle into the steps, and when you feel comfortable enough you speak.

“how are you finding highgarden, prince jacaerys?”

“jace, please,” he entreats, and elaborates only when you blink at him in confusion. “my friends and family call me jace, not jacaerys. we are to be married, my lady. it would please me a great deal for my future wife to refer to me as such.”

you nod in acceptance, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his eager expression. “jace it is, then,” you say, and try not to feel the way your heart flutters at his radiant smile in response. “although you have not answered my question. how are you finding highgarden?”

he hums, twirling you as the dance requires and then pulling you closer before responding. “your father has been very hospitable, and it is certainly beautiful here. the grounds especially, though i’m afraid i’ve not had the opportunity to see much of them as yet.”

“a shame we shall have to rectify, i think.” you offer him a small smile as you press just an inch closer, finding yourself wanting to be nearer him. “perhaps i could show you the gardens on the morrow?”

“yes,” he agrees a touch too quickly, and you giggle as his cheeks turn pink. “that is to say— i should like that very much, my lady. very much indeed.”

you lapse into silence once more as the dance reaches its crescendo, and you find yourself reluctant to leave the comfort of his hands as the music pauses while the minstrels ready their next song.

jace seems to share the sentiment, it seems, as his eyes linger on your entwined hands for a long moment before returning to your face. “have i met your standards enough for another dance, then?”

you take a moment to pretend to consider it, eyes narrowing slightly as you hum. he shuffles on his feet as he waits for your response, and you find the nervous motion far too endearing.

“i suppose so,” you concede after a moment, grinning at his smugly pleased smile as he tugs you closer.

“and what about the dance after that?” he asks lightly, something cheeky in his eyes as the music starts up again and he sweeps you along the floor.

“you should not press your luck, jace,” you say imperiously, although the effect is rather ruined by the silly smile on your face as he laughs with you.

jacaerys smirks. “my lady, since meeting you, i have felt nothing but a lucky man.”

you smother a snort, shaking your head at his unrepentant expression. “you are incorrigible.” it comes out a touch exasperated and yet far too fond.

“yes,” the prince agrees readily, a sly twinkle in his eyes. “but i think you rather enjoy it.”

your startled laugh is loud, though thankfully not so loud as to be heard over the minstrels. “perhaps.”

after that, the night is lost to flirtatious banter and dance after dance in your betrothed’s arms as a seed of affection is planted deep in your heart. and when you wake in the morning after dreaming of nothing but jace’s lips and eyes and words, you can think only one thought;

gods, i am in so much trouble.

time passes in a slow trickle of syrupy summer heat.

as the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in jace’s company. you’re always chaperoned, of course, a household guard following at a respectful distance wherever the two of you choose to roam. you find the whole thing a touch ridiculous; jace is to be your husband. it’s hardly like spending time together alone would be a significant scandal in light of your impending marriage, but your father insists there will be no doubts about your honour before the marriage actually takes place and so ser dickon is assigned as your reluctant shadow.

the date of the wedding itself remains unset as you and jace start to know one another. your father wishes for the marriage to wait until the war is done – a last-ditch chance to keep his options open, perhaps. Or, if you are feeling generous, a way to try and keep you safe from the greens when war inevitably rages. jace’s mother wishes the marriage to happen as soon as can be arranged – a way to try and ensure further heirs with the uncertainty of war looming, you assume.

you find yourself hoping the queen’s will wins the day as time creeps on. jace becomes ever dearer to you the more you learn about him, and soon you think of your impending marriage with nothing but hope and warm desire.

because oh, how you want him. from the first moment you’d laid eyes upon him you’d been attracted to him, but the more you get to know him, the more your heart opens to him – the more you ache for him. for his mouth on yours, his fingertips on your skin, his voice in your ear. if you were a less reckless woman, a little less shameless, you’d be embarrassed of how easily you think of him in your moments apart.

but late at night when the candles burn low and you are alone in your bed, there is no shame to be found, only the wildness of your wolfs blood and liquid heat as your hand drifts between your legs and you find completion with your betrothed’s name on your lips.

beyond the desire, though, is a slow blooming affection. it feels like every time you learn something new about him or share a new experience together, another petal of tenderness unfurls in your chest. when your father had first told you about your betrothal, you’d not dared to hope for more than civility with your husband-to-be, but now you find yourself harbouring deep fondness on top of steadily burning desire, and you look to your future as his wife with little else but excitement.

you’re not sure if jace feels the same. you don’t doubt he desires you; his flirtation and the weight of his gaze on your form is too frequent a thing for you to think otherwise. but desire is not the same as affection, and though you hope desperately that the way he always seeks your presence whenever he steps into a room means what you want it to mean, you can’t be sure.

after a week passes, you both start to chafe at the relentless presence of ser dickon. it feels like every time you so much as think about inching closer to jacaerys, ser dickon is there with his stern glare of disapproval. and so, when one morning jace suggests taking you to meet his dragon, alone, you are quick to agree.

you leave your guard long behind at jace’s instruction; he doesn’t want vermax crowded with strangers, he explains, but you personally think he seems a little too gleeful at the idea of being alone with you for that to be sole reason behind his insistence ser dickon stays far away. you don’t say anything since you’re equally pleased to finally be spending some time with your betrothed without feeling others curious eyes on you.

your excitement starts to waver, however, as you and jace get closer to his dragon. you’ve only seen vermax from a distance before this, and though it perhaps shouldn’t the size of him startles you. he’s just so large and fierce looking, the sharp spines on his back catching your eye. the beast yawns as you slow to a stop, jace sending you a quick smile before he continues on to greet his dragon with fondness, and the glimpse into vermax’s open maw – gods, there as so many teeth – has your palms starting to sweat.

jace stands beside his dragon, murmuring soothing words in high valyrian that you don’t understand as his hand smooths along his snout. your heart races in your chest, nerves making your hands shake when faced with this great beast. you curse your reckless curiosity, your northern stubbornness that makes it impossible for you to refuse a challenge. you have no idea how jace can look so at ease, the line of his shoulders relaxed and the slightest smile on his face as he talks to his winged steed, but there he stands.

“you can come closer now.” he turns to you, brown eyes shining with excitement and, yes, a hint of challenge.

he expects you to back out, you think, and that realisation has you straightening your spine and pressing your lips together. you twist your fingers in your skirts to hide the way they tremble as you step cautiously forward, eyes darting from jace to vermax and back. when you’re within touching distance of the velaryon prince, he reaches for your hand. the shock of his bare skin against yours arrests you for a moment, the slide of calloused fingers around your wrist startling in how easily it sparks desire in you.

you’re so distracted by the feel of him that you don’t realise until it’s too late that jace has tugged you closer, guiding your hand until it’s pressed to vermax’s scales, and then you’re too busy being surprised by how soft they feel to be annoyed that he’s so easily coaxed you into this position.

you still as the dragon rumbles, swallowing thickly as your fingers twitch against green scales. he blinks lazily at you, an alien intellect gleaming there as he seems to consider you for a long moment, and as you blink back at him some of the fear in your chest shakes loose.

because this is not just some beast, you realise. this is fire and blood and magic made flesh. there is life and intelligence in vermax’s eyes, not one you recognise but one you immediately respect. being this close to the dragon is a heady rush of awe and adrenaline; the knowledge that vermax could so easily harm you at any moment but is choosing not to because he trusts his rider. it’s staggering and wonderful and beside you jace is beaming, eyes shining with happiness at seeing you greet his draconic companion, and you are helplessly, hopelessly, wholly overwhelmed by your affection, your desire, by jace.

you kiss him.

it’s barely a kiss, more a breathless press of your mouth against his, and he startles at the sensation even as his arm loops around your waist. you break apart for the barest moment, nose sliding against his as you tilt your head, and jacaerys sighs out your name with heavy relief before he captures your mouth once more.

you’ve been kissed before, so you know the mechanics of it, but it’s never been like this. his lips move smoothly against yours as his hand flexes on your waist, drawing you closer until your chest is pressed against his. your hand tangles in his hair, fingers twisting in the soft curls and he moans with it, hand dragging up your back to cradle the back of your head tenderly as his tongue sweeps over your lips.

the gentle pressure of it has you gasping and he takes the opportunity immediately, tongue sliding against yours as heat pools in your core. your thoughts tumble wildly, incoherent as you can think of nothing but of how desperately you want more. the taste – the smell – the feel of him is drowning everything out that isn’t jace and you cannot resist it, do not even want to.

you want to kiss him forever, want his hand in your hair and his tongue in your mouth for always. you think he might even let you with how relentless he is, barely giving you a moments pause to catch your breath before consuming you in another desperate kiss.

you finally part only when vermax grumbles, cheeks blazing with heat as you step out of jace’s arms. jace murmurs lowly to his dragon in valyrian, and he nudges his great snout against jace’s shoulder in response before stepping away and curling down into the long grass to sleep. you take the moment to properly catch your breath again, hand pressing to your heaving chest in an effort to soothe your racing heart.

when you peek up at jace from beneath your lashes, you flush deeply at the sight of him. his curls are a mess, his lips swollen and cheeks pink beneath his tan. he looks almost debauched, and it sends a rush of desire through you. you suddenly can think of nothing other than him looking like this only flusher and skin glistening with sweat and in your bed.

the thought startles you into dropping your gaze to your feet, and you shuffle uncertainly. you feel – unsettled. you don’t think there’s anything wrong with sharing a kiss with your betrothed, and yet something like guilt curdles in your stomach as you worry at your bottom lip. you had kissed him. for all that he’d kissed you back, you worry that now he will think differently of you. think worse of you.

a knuckle tucks under your chin, then, lifting your face so that you meet jace’s eyes. you feel small and strangely vulnerable in the aftermath of your kiss, like you have somehow shown him something you never intended to, and the urge to shy away remains. but you are not a winter rose for nothing and so you tuck the doubt away as jace runs his thumb soothingly along the line of your jaw.

“i have been thinking of doing that since the moment you first smiled at me,” he confesses, a hint of shyness in the quirk of his lips even as he stares steadily into your eyes.

“oh.” you blink at him once in surprise, the uneasiness in you finally settling at the fondness in his gaze. “oh. that’s— good.” you curse yourself for your lack of wit in this moment as jace snickers. “i-i mean, i’m glad that it was not… unwelcome.”

your betrothed looks at you with deep affection, then, cupping your cheek and ducking down to press a fleeting, butterfly-soft kiss to your mouth before reluctantly parting from you. “it was most welcome, my lady. most welcome, indeed.” his eyes sparkle with mirth. “i find myself looking forward to the next time you greet vermax, if this is the kind of response such a thing garners.”

“jace!” you narrow your eyes at him in pretend annoyance, even as you smother a giggle with your fingers. “you should not expect me to indulge in such desires again, then, if you persist in being so smug about it.”

his laugh warms you as the two of you fall into easy banter, leaving vermax to his rest and returning to the ever-watchful ser dickon, and all the while all you can think of is how much you cannot wait to kiss him again.

as the air cools with the dying light of day, you lead jace to the gardens.

in the week since your first kiss, jace has oft tugged you into shadowy corners for more kisses any chance he’s had. his desire for you is matched only by your own for him, and as your confidence in your mutual attraction has grown, you have been equally as likely to pull him into a dark alcove to trade sweet words and sweet kisses in secret.

it’s thrilling and exciting and wonderful, but as the week passes you find a growing doubt whispering in the back of your mind.

while you cannot doubt jace desires you, not when he is so relentless in chasing after your smiling mouth, neither of you breathe a word of any feeling between you beyond attraction. perhaps it is reckless of you, foolhardy to fall for him so quickly – but then you are your parent’s daughter, all wolfs blood and deep roots, and you know no other way of being than this.

so you take him to the gardens as the moon rises in the sky, sneak past the night guards and out into the fresh air. you guide him through the blooming flowers and swaying trees, stopping along the while when the fancy takes one of you to stop and examine an interesting bloom or inhale a sweet scent. at least three times he stops you to slot his mouth against yours, to swallow your breathless giggling with feverish kisses, and each time he does it takes longer and longer for you to disentangle yourselves from each other.

eventually, with swollen lips and mussed hair, the two of you reach the winter roses. your effervescent mood becomes sombre as the moon shines on the blue flowers, turning the petals almost silver, and jace seems to recognise the change in atmosphere, a seriousness overtaking him as he watches you approach the flowers.

“my mother planted the first of these roses,” you tell jace as you kneel at the edge of the flowerbed, uncaring of the risk of dirt on your dress as you brush fingers over the pale blue petals tenderly. “winter roses, they are, from the north. from winterfell. she was born a stark, you see, and when she was betrothed to my father the only thing she asked was to be able to bring a few blooms from the glass gardens. she used to call me her little winter rose when i was a child, and she would bring me here and show me how to tend to them.”

jace kneels beside you, glancing at the side of your face before turning to look curiously at the blue flowers. “they’re beautiful,” he tells you sincerely.

“i’ve always thought so, too,” you agree almost absently, stroking the petals in an effort to calm your racing heart. “everyone told my mother she’d never be able to get them to grow so far south. they’re very rare, you see, and need very particular conditions.” your lips quirk up into a fond smile. “but my mother, for all that she became a tyrell, was always a stark at heart. stubborn, you know. and now look at them, thriving.”

you gesture out at the carefully tended rows of roses. “nobody else comes here, now, other than the gardeners and me. i think… i think my father finds it too hard, being here. it makes him miss her too much. so i come here when i need to be alone. or when i wish to be reminded of her. it's the one place in the world where i feel i can be wholly myself, without any pretence or worry.”

jace’s gaze is fixed on you, now, eyes almost black in the faint moonlight as understanding dawns on him. “thank you for bringing me here.”

you nod once, climbing back to your feet, and jace follows you. he watches you so intently, like he’s afraid that you might disappear if he dares to look away. you feel a little like you might, feel tenuous and vulnerable and a breath away from cracking your chest open.

“i’ve never brought anyone else here,” you confess quietly, flexing your fingers with nerves as jace’s lips part in surprise. “i wished… i wished to share this with you. to share who i am, myself, with you, i suppose.” you laugh a little self-deprecatingly. “however pretentious that sounds.”

“it doesn’t,” jace denies immediately. you sense he wants to say more, but he seems to understand that you’re building to saying something yourself, and so he stays quiet, expression earnest and open and fond as he gazes down at you.

“i know it’s perhaps too soon – we have only known each other a few weeks. but i… when i first found out we were betrothed, i was so scared. i worried you would be some arrogant princeling, and i dared not hope for anything more than civility between us. i’ve always known i would not marry for love, but i did not ever consider i would marry a man i had never met.”

you pause for long enough to suck in a breath, feeling a little like the floodgates have opened and you simply can’t stop speaking, can’t stop the feeling pouring freely from you. “and then i met you, and you were so unlike anything i’d expected. i know we still have so much more to learn about each other, and i know that things are— complicated, with the war, and that our marriage may be a ways off yet, but still— i find myself feeling for you, and i cannot hide it anymore. i don’t wish to hide it from you anymore.”

you let the open affection in his face buoy you as you steel yourself, pressing your shoulders back in a mimicry of confidence. “i wanted to show you this part of me, this place, because i….” you hesitate for a breathless moment, biting your lip, before gathering every scrap of courage you possess and diving in headfirst. “i am falling in love with you, jacaerys.”

you inhale the sweet scent of the pale blue petals deeply, let the familiar scent soothe you as jace stares at you with wide eyes. the winter roses are something that, until now, have been so uniquely yours. as you’d told jace, none other than you and the gardeners comes to this corner of the gardens now. the staff that tend so carefully to the flowers know to leave you well enough alone if they stumble across you, skirts splayed on the ground and fingers diligently caring for the roses. you’ve never even brought your sweet little brother, though you can admit that’s for practicality as much as anything else – his childish energy is a bit too boisterous for these delicate blooms.

bringing jace here, bringing him here to confess the deepening affection you harbour for him, feels raw. feels like you’re tearing your heart out of your chest and offering it up to him for perusal, hands bloody and soul bare. feels like saying ‘this is all that i am and all that i have been and all i will ever be and i hope, i hope, i hope it’s enough.’

jace finally, finally speaks, sighs your name, soft and sweet and tender, and hope blooms in your chest.

“oh, my sweet lady,” he murmurs, crowding into your space as he cups your cheek, and the smell of woodsmoke and dragon and jace floods your senses. “i am falling so unbelievably in love with you. only, it does not feel so much like falling as it is like choosing it, like walking into love with you with my eyes wide open and seeing nothing but you.”

it's almost unbearable, the blazing heat of his gaze as he presses his forehead against yours, and it makes you tremble as your hands clutch as his elbows in an effort to ground yourself to this moment, to him. “our betrothal was decided for us without care or consideration for our own desires,” he says, lips brushing against your own with every whispered word. “i know that as well as you, but i need you to know that if i had the choice i would choose this. i would choose you, your stubborn heart, your fierce spirit, your gracious soul.”

his hand slides from your cheek to your hair, holds you so tenderly like you are something precious, and it steals your breath from your lungs as you revel in his unbridled affection. “i care not when we marry, if we marry, in truth, because in my heart you are already mine just as i am already yours.”

he kisses you, then, a desperate and greedy thing, as if he can no longer restrain himself from devouring you whole. and you are just as needy, hands fisting in his doublet as you press yourself against him and somehow finding yourself wishing to be closer still. the world narrows down to him and him only; his mouth, his hands, his hair. you can think of nothing else, and do not wish to, because in this moment you are wholly yourself and he is wholly himself and it’s enough, it’s wonderful and delicate and it’s enough.

and, there beneath the moonlight and amongst the winter roses, deep and enduring affection, the kind of love the bards sing songs about, takes root.

taglist; @eldrith

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jace x reader #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys vaaryon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys targaryen fanfic #jacaerys targaryen imagine #my writing

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driaswrld · 10 months

Text

🪷 — A ROYAL AFFAIR . . . THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT

LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *

🪷 dearest gentle reader, what is a princess to do when she's caught between two dashing princes, both of which are her childhood friends? — one her betrothed and the other her past love... 4.7k words.

🪷 prince gojo x reader x prince geto jjk regency/royal au, use of regency era terminology, longing and more longing.

🪷 taglist : (lmk if you want to be added or removed!) @angelshimaa @yunymphs @todorokies @satocidal @maeby-cursed @rinniessance @cinnabooonn @shegetsburned @starry-grace2 @selfishdoll @shuuennovirche @wishmemel @riaki @yazzzmints @aphroditisxc @gojorbit @izakyun @satoruoo @irisxyphium @zwtari @/lollipop974 @r0ckst4rjk @softgirlgonehaywire @lilvampirina @brianmaysclog

CHAPTER ONE. . . ˚ ༘ *

L'INCOMPARABLE.

Talks of betrothal began in the last Spring of your youth.

Under the cherry blossom trees, you sit in silence, fuchsia petals decorating the length of your hair in messy scatters.

Satoru Gojo, crowned prince and heir to the Gojo throne, picks the fallen remnants of flowers from your hair one by one as the nobles watch on.

Whispers of ‘they would make such a beautiful match’ and ‘look how the Prince dotes on her’ echo in the brush of the gardens, women whispering among themselves and the men chortling between swings of their mallets — in a near deathly game of pall mall.

“Don’t hide from me,” Satoru dips his head, breath fanning the shell of your ear. If possible, the whispers intensify, cutting past your ears and you bite back a giggle, stifling down the thought that crosses your mind, attention whore.

“I’m not hiding, your highness.” You counter, shifting to the side, your smile hidden behind a porcelain teacup, swift sips of ginger warming your cheeks.

“It’s improper, you know.” The words linger in the air between soft wisps of wind, flurries of foreign fabrics and bright layers of skirts pass your vision — and yet, all is drowned out by him.

Your anointed Prince, the attention whore.

“Improper to gaze upon my companion?” Satoru scoffs, grinning wide, toothy, dimples.

Childhood found you both tethered like bee and nectar, always close, always coming back.

At first, it was through duty, sharp tongued ten year old Satoru Gojo, a prince born with a halo and the title of the realm’s strongest to his name, meeting you, the humble princess of the Western kingdom, born in valor and sprouted in pride, a warrior’s code.

It was a disastrous first few encounters—

(—but then he was your bestfriend, and you his. )

His dear mother, bless her soul, had taken the time out to host this marvelous garden party to welcome the newest maidens into their debuts – moreso, to marry Satoru off quicker than he could leave for another battle, chasing another war – and yet, he cared not to meet with any of the women or entertain them beyond an inch of his being.

Not around you, at least.

“You shouldn’t jest about these things—!” A snort leaves your mouth, and whereas the ever uppity ladies of the palace court gawk at you in utter disbelief and mild disgust, Satoru finds himself bellowing a boyish laugh.

That was the last time he’d laugh like that with you, before a warm spring of youth turned to a burning summer, hot with passion, scorched with lust.

THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT.

Dearest gentle reader,

As all royal scandals do,

It started with an invitation.

We cordially invite you to the Gojo palace grounds to celebrate the betrothal of our crowned prince Satoru Gojo and his bride to be [name] [name].

This author finds herself compelled and rather . . . intrigued.

What a match made in heaven! Our beloved Prince Satoru and his most dearest childhood friend!

Your fingers tremble at your sides, the aura that is the strongest permeates your very being. The soft hum of piano keys coupled with string and bow becomes near inaudible – the power Satoru Gojo has on you is like a moth to a flame, lamb to slaughter.

But I assure you,

When it comes to matters of the heart —

Carefully, your feet carry you across the crowded ballroom, mass of bodies parting the instant they catch a glimpse of your eyes – that desperation is familiar in young women like you – and they pity you.

You, who should be above them, who should be the next Queen, the current Princess consort to be.

And yet.

“I’ve told you endlessly, I will take no wife!” Satoru’s voice is a staccato, bouncing off the walls of the vacant corridor adjacent to the ballroom, echoing past your ears.

Dare I say, our beloved crowned Prince

Is not the strongest.

“Some nerve you have, boy.”

Satoru’s father, the King, is a stoic man.

You’ve come to know this well in your youth. He rules firm and his word remains law. By no means is he the strongest or possesses any more battle capacity than that of any other noble, but he remains a political stronghold.

And his grip over his family — his subjects, remains unwavering.

“I don’t care for your affairs or your crown,” Satoru’s gaze remains hard, even as he meets his father’s ire in tow, and in such a barely secluded place too. “Let one of your bastards have it, my place is on the battlefield doing what you are too cowardly to.”

Your mind runs rampant, palms pressed against the cold wall concealing your presence.

You wonder what Satoru might be thinking — if he’d be so foolish as to forsake his lineage and do away with his duty, if he’d give up simply because his fate was not his choice — he wouldn’t.

No, Satoru is good and kind, and he would see this kingdom to a new realm of peace just with his bare hands alone.

“And that is all? You wish to do away with it simply because it does not suit your childish desires? I have given you everything! And the one thing I ask of you—”

You still yourself at the near animalistic growl that leaves Satoru’s lips.

“She will never be Queen.”

It cuts through you like blades of grass, familiar, scratching at your skin softly, pinpricks of green drawing blood from your calves.

It reminds you of when you were younger, more naive and susceptible to the follies of men and matters of the heart.

“Who’ll marry you if you spend your days swinging a sword and broadening your shoulders?”

“Aren’t there girls your age you can follow around? I don’t care if you’re a princess, we’re not friends.”

“I don’t know why you’d believe he’d ever want to court you.”

Three months, thirteen days.

Your betrothal has long exceeded and broken the record of engagement wait time.

Most women would be married within the same month of betrothal, the longest and most respectable wait time being a month and a half, only due to cases of overdue dowry payments.

Three million dollars was your reverse dowry.

Paid directly from the royal treasury to your father, and four million dollars paid in return. That was how much yours and Satoru’s hands were worth to your families, a testament to the weight you’d both bear by wearing a crown.

Except, you hadn’t been crowned yet. Or married for that matter.

“—summer solstice hunt!” It’s Yuji who exclaims, voice filled with childlike wonder. Recently knighted by Satoru himself and a renowned protege of the Kingsguard, the boy is eager to please. “Who will you cast your bets on, your grace?”

The confines of Satoru’s private study function as a meeting room for idle chatting — he leaves the letters to his advisors when they are of little importance.

Or discards them entirely when he has company, like now.

You sink deeper into the cushioned seat, Satoru’s arm draped over the back of your chair. A tuft of snowy hair falls over his forehead and he breathes a chuckle, your weight curling in on itself with every rise and fall of his chest.

why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don't you want me

“It’s out of question to bet on one’s self, no?” Satoru chuckles and it earns a cackle from Yuji, who, despite himself, has already casted his own bet on his annointed Prince. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone’s head bigger than it ought to be.”

The summer and winter solstice brings with it two separate ceremonial festivals — the hunt being the most anticipated due to its cutthroat competition among nobles and peasants alike.

That, and the prize.

The winner of the hunt, the man or woman to capture the famed primordial stag — which is really a regular stag trained and bred to elude even the most skilled knights — would be rewarded a grand jewel from the Queen’s vault.

Gentle reader,

The famed jewel for the taking

This summer, is none other than—

“I’ve placed my bet on you,” you comment plainly with a shrug and Yuji beams.

It isn’t unlike you to root for one of Satoru’s proteges, the ones fairly skilled and new to knighthood – you’ve always found yourself cheering for the peonies in a garden full of roses — the underdogs full of potential . . .

Satoru glances over to you, and for a second you miss how his gaze lingers.

“You’re too kind, Princess…” Yuji sighs, near dreamily. “I will no doubt do well now that I have your favor on my side.”

( losing dogs, satoru wants to say. all you ever do is bet on losing dogs. )

“You have her bet, not her favor.” Satoru scoffs dramatically before you can even think to lend Yuji your well wishes. “It isn’t something given, it’s something won. And from a maiden, not a Princess consort.”

She’s spoken for, is all you hear though.

There’s an air of uncertainty that passes between you and Satoru that only thickens with your closeness.

A pale palm curls around the cross rail of the back of your chair and you lean into his touch subconsciously – it’s warm, secure – he’s saying, I have your favor, don’t I? Tell me I do.

—The champion’s jewel,

A wraith necklace fit for a Queen.

The L’Incomparable.

“Nevertheless, you have my good faith.” You interject, followed by a sharp inhale, and you stand abruptly from your seat. Satoru’s hand falls to his side. He knows what you're thinking.

Three months, thirteen days.

You’ve sat by and watched Satoru deny you marriage – his excuse, that he’s waiting for his coronation first – you’ve watched him continue to entertain the women around him like he’s done since he was merely a squire, plastering a smile on his face from this glass castle he calls home.

He’s close, but never too close. Stringing you on then letting you loose— it’s routine.

It’s eerily similar to your childhood.

“Yuji,” Satoru speaks, soft yet firm. The young boy is on his feet immediately and offers a swift bow to his majesty, handing his service in tow to the call. “Leave us.” Satoru commands, and just as swiftly as he came, Yuji is bowing to you and exiting through the study doors.

L’Incomparable.

The largest internally flawless diamond in the kingdom and the most expensive chain sitting in the Queen’s vault currently, worth eight billion dollars alone.

Allegedly, it was handcrafted as a gift from an ancient Gojo king to his mistress — whom he had knighted and sent off to fight in the war at her wishes once their affair had been brought to light and scrutinized.

A gift he only got to place on her corpse.

Even in death, he loved her. More than he loved his own wife and Queen.

And though many attempts had been made to destroy the necklace, it remains near indestructible.

“Something troubles you.” Satoru murmurs the moment the door clicks shut. His gaze remains strained forward on your form, from where you fiddle with the frayed hem of your gown, back turned to him.

“I simply think of the prospects of the hunt,” you retort. “There are many promising young competitors traveling to partake— I fear my Prince would simply be. . . thwarted, is all.”

L’Incomparable is not a jewel of love.

It's a sickening story of a woman who loved a man who could not love her back in the way she deserved.

A woman who took what she was given, secret meetings, hushed whispers and fleeting gazes.

And when he did, finally love her back wholly and ardently, unable to bury it behind a locked door in the dungeon he called a heart — she was already gone.

“You doubt me?” Satoru’s voice is closer now, and you wonder when he even stood up – if he'd been taking small steps toward you the entire time.

“No.” It leaves your mouth like a prayer, an oath, worship. Every ounce of confidence you have is in him. He has protected you, kept you, safeguarded your sanity and treated you with grace— “Never that.”

( —he is your friend. nothing more than that. )

He exhales, and you hear the faint sound of a swallow, the click of his tongue. Your ear feels hot with the proximity, yet, he inches closer still.

“Will you give this to me, then?” He whispers, faint, uncertain — almost desperate.

And you turn, faces inches apart, breath mingling. “What is it you wish of me, my Prince?” Your pupils dilate.

“Your Prince,” Satoru repeats, like it knocked the wind out of him. It's a common way to address the monarch, you’ve said it before as have others. “. . . asks for your favor in the upcoming hunt.”

He keeps his hands folded behind him, curled into fists and trembling. Your Prince. Yours. Yours.

He’s a gentleman. He was raised right.

This urge—

( you’re his friend. his advisor. his confidant. this is not what he wants. )

The urge to strip you down to nothing but your chemise, lay you on his desk and hike your legs over his hips, show you things you’ve only seen in dreams or read in books — like he’s done to so many women before — he promises himself he’s not a rake, he’s just a man, but when you look at him like that and say his title so softly—

( it will pass. )

“Then,” your breath slows as he steps forward, so easily leaving you pressed back against the hardwood desk, caged by him. “I will grant my Prince my favor.”

Satoru watches in earnest, places his hands on either side of you on the desk as you remove one of your gloves.

Pure white, pearl decor, lace trim.

He would've laughed if he wasn't so enthralled by such a simple thing. Satoru wants to pull the other glove off with his teeth.

“I’ll return it to you,” he says, a promise. He takes the glove as you hand it to him, leaning forward and chasing the remnants of your fingertips against his once you pull away. “When I win.”

( and maybe then, you’ll understand i am devoted to you, wholly and utterly, if only in these moments and never again. )

There's a knock at the door, brief and soft. A maid, come to drop off another stack of letters.

And just as quickly as Satoru had found himself against you, he’s across the room, opening the door.

As if you had never been there.

The only evidence that he had even touched you is the lace cupped in his palm, middle and index tracing over a minute pearl.

L’Incomparable is a jewel of longing.

Morrow brings with it the beginning of joyous festivities.

You woke to another trousseau. This time, from a distant cousin in the Easternmost kingdom.

Attached was a letter of the newest development in her love life – said development being a defected knight nonetheless.

It made you giggle.

The palace corridors are bustling with life.

Servants and attendants eager to welcome early visitors who have come for the summer solstice, robust back and forth on decorations and food and gossip and many a’ things outside the realm of possibility to be discussed in one sitting.

Your lady in waiting, Areta, whom you’ve known since your youth, creeps into your room with a grin as wide as a war banner – you immediately assume the worst, mischief is your pastime but you fear the poor girl takes ‘eavesdropping on court gossip’ to another level.

“My lady, you would not believe—” Areta huffs, journeying to sit with you on the balcony, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her brow. “The things I’ve heard today!”

“You hear things everyday, I fear.” You indulge her, as always. And she begins to talk your ear off, all in good faith of course.

Down below in the courtyard, is the sound of smacking wood and the occasional chorus of baritone conversation.

Satoru, who should be attending treaty meetings with his father, bides his time sparring on the cobblestone with the other men of the Kingsguard – the noise wakes you most mornings.

“—talking to Julietta, you know? The girl who attends to the countess? And she said—”

You hum along to Areta’s words, eyes peering over the edge of the balcony, gaze fixed on the crown Prince.

His snowy hair is damp with sweat, Victorian style dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, every swing of his wooden sword causes a commotion — muscles in his back flexing under the sunlight, so easily seen beneath the thin white fabric.

“—that her lady told her that she heard from a cousin-in-law who works at the docks that—”

You wonder what expression Satoru has as he pummels through his underlings playfully, hardly sparring but more play fighting. You imagine he’s grinning wide, crystalline blue eyes shimmering with glee—

“—that Prince Geto is coming for the hunt!”

You choke. Audibly.

Areta is quick to shut her mouth and lend you a concerned gaze. “Princess, are you—”

“I’m alright.” You wave a hand, catching your breath. Prince Geto. If you think about it too hard, you fear your chest might burst open and spill out your insides.

Oh, fair reader, it seems

Our dear protagonist has come upon

A treasure trove of memories.

“You were, ehem, saying?” You twirl your index finger in the air as if to prompt a rewind. “About. . .”

Areta raises an eyebrow, but nods slowly. “About Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law?” The girl questions, dim.

“No!” You interject immediately, twirling your finger in the other direction. Fast forward. “The other thing— the thing you heard!”

“Oh, about Prince Geto!”

Dearest reader,

Suguru Geto enters.

A man of great mystique,

the northern Prince.

And striking opposite of

our beloved crowned Prince Satoru.

“Yes! About him—”

Suguru Geto.

In many ways you could say he was Satoru’s best friend, his greatest rival and worst enemy all at the same time.

Through solstice events, formal gatherings and other royal duties, the same way you met Satoru, you met Suguru through him.

“Well, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law works at the docks,” Areta begins again, regrettably. “You know? The private harbor where all the spirit and wheat shipments come in, but that's besides the point—”

( suguru was your bestfriend too. in every way it counted. )

“Areta.” You coo, coaxing her to get back to the main point. Why was Suguru coming for the summer solstice hunt? After being away in the North for so long, why now?

The only correspondence you’d had with him was a few letters years ago. And then he stopped writing.

“So, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law saw the Geto family's ship dock in the private harbor!” The girl exclaims hushedly and you hum to yourself, curious.

Rightfully, you’d hold a grudge about never hearing from Suguru.

But in this moment, you feel no resentment or hurt. Instead, excitement that you might see your old friend once more.

And maybe, you, Suguru and Satoru could spend the summer solstice together— just like old times.

( and that’d be enough to get rid of the heat in your chest when satoru gets too close to you. )

Faithful reader,

she could not have been

more wrong.

Four days remain until the summer solstice hunt.

Satoru is scarce around the palace in preparation for his coronation coming soon and treaty arrangements.

You, on the other hand, have exhausted all your hobbies, biding your idle time helping the other ladies at court pick their gowns for tomorrow's feast — the first of seven nightly ones during the solstice.

Another trousseau is delivered to your chambers when you wake.

This time, you’re taken aback.

Instead of an elaborate stack of gifts, a box of jewelry or even a scandalous collection of seductive corsets and nightgowns to remind you of your predicament—

There's a long wooden box, coupled with a sealed parcel.

Inside the box is a beautiful gown, deep burgundy and shapely. Fitted with a low bust cut and short sleeves. It's a mouth watering dress, one you would've bought yourself if you even knew it existed.

But you've never seen a dress designed like this before, down to the intricate details of the underskirts and the hemming.

It's almost intimate.

When you finally open the parcel, you expect a note, but there's none. Instead, inside is a pair of black silk gloves, so smooth it melts in your palms – your mind immediately goes to Satoru and the glove he still holds hostage for you.

You don't think twice before telling Areta that this is what you’ll be wearing to tomorrow’s feast.

( you ought to thank satoru for this gift by wearing it, no? )

˚ ༘ *

The lights in the dining hall are dimmed perfectly to match the moonlight.

When you slip in from the adjacent corridor, greeting visiting nobles and residents of the palace court alike, a sense of nausea floods the pit of your stomach – what will Satoru say when he sees you? Will he like how the dress looks – or rather how you look in it?

Wait, why do you even care?

You’ve never really cared for these things— it must be the tea you had earlier. You nearly feel faint.

Darling reader,

it was in fact,

not the tea.

Your thoughts don't get the chance to linger very long, as the soft hum of music slows to a halt, and everyone begins journeying to their assigned seats.

Naturally, you fiddle with your gloves, not wanting to sit down at the second table yet.

One, it would be very impudent of a lady of your caliber to be seated without a proper escort by a gentleman.

And two, even though you did decline the few men who asked to escort you, you can't help the anxiety that floods your veins when you begin to realize that so many people are sitting already and you're not!

Sure, you're a Princess, but can't a girl be a little shy?

( not that you were waiting for satoru or anything of course. )

Devoted reader,

our protagonist

is in denial.

“It pains me to see such a beautiful lady left unaccompanied.” A voice flits past your ears, so close you can taste it on your tongue — incense, sandalwood.

( oh god, no. )

Your body turns in an instant, almost too quick, and your underskirts almost trip you as the weight sends you wobbling forward.

“Easy—” Suguru Geto’s arm darts out to curl around your waist, steadying you.

“You're here—” “You’re still clumsy—”

The both of you lock eyes at your shared unison of speech, then chuckle to yourselves.

You let your eyes wander over his features, how much he's grown over these past years.

He’s still as ethereal as the royal painters would describe. Prince Geto, the joy to paint, once in an era type beauty, born to be depicted in art, they’d say.

You don't doubt that.

“You look well,” you say. Suguru glances down at you and shakes his head, as if that is too much of a compliment for him to take. “No, honestly— I don't tease, you look very. . . stately.”

“Are you trying to call me old in a polite way, my lady?” He feigns offense, tilting his head to the side a little. You cover your mouth to laugh.

You don't miss the way his eyes linger on your gloves.

( oh, the gloves ! )

“Your highness,” leaves your mouth in a whisper, half teasing, half regal, and you give a brief curtsy, which he counters with a swift bow. “Would you do me the pleasure?” You grin, extending your hand to him.

Suguru — never Prince Geto, not to you at least — had been your solace, your comfort and your refuge.

The greatest friend you could have asked for in your youth.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Suguru whispers, taking your hand in earnest, escorting you over to the table and pulling your chair out for you — settling himself in the seat across from you, on the other side of the table.

( what a coincidence. )

˚ ༘ *

Time passes in waves.

People are whispering, no doubt. As they always do about you. No matter how hushed, you always hear them.

‘Look at the poor Princess consort, sitting beside an empty chair.’

‘You’d think she’d refer to herself as Lady now instead of Consort—’

‘To think even a Princess is not immune from such things. . .’

‘These things happen when you're sold off to a future King.’

“Bitter.”

Your head snaps up at the sound, dessert fork halting mid stab into your slice of cake.

Suguru’s eyes meet yours, as if he’d been looking at you the entire time, like he reads your thoughts as his own.

The people sitting at the table alongside you both fix their attention on him, the whispers halting.

“The cake,” he leans back in his chair, shrugging strands of his hair out of his face, looking down the length of the table at the spectators, nonchalant. “It's terribly bitter.”

You think you’d open your mouth to scold him a little, to not joke about what people say, royals should never engage in such petty gossip – but instead, you smile in gratitude.

( bitter. everybody's so bitter in this place. )

“That's quite unfortunate.” A familiar voice rings out, your fork sliding out of your hand to rest on the edge of your plate. “I hoped it would be rather sweet tonight.”

When you look over your shoulder, Satoru is already at your side, bending a knee and outstretching an open palm to you. “My Princess.”

He looks. . . disheveled.

Not completely out of order, it's something so small — so minute that only those who know him well would be able to point it out. From the crease of his vest to the shaky rasp in his voice—

And the woman in your peripheral stumbling back into the dining hall from the garden entrance on shaky legs. . .

( so that's what he was doing. )

“Your grace,” leaves your lips in a whisper and he kisses the back of your palm before sinking into his seat.

The way he presses his middle finger against his bottom lip like he’d been burned by the silk makes you raise an eyebrow. Does he not even have the common courtesy of pretending to like the gloves he gifted?

“I’m pleased you took time out of your busy schedule for us regular people.” Suguru chuckles, and Satoru’s mother, sitting near you all at the head table seems far from pleased.

“Well, a small act of kindness goes a long way.” Satoru parries and you force a smile, stabbing your dessert once more. “Especially for someone as regular as you, Prince Suguru.”

If you had initially thought this would be a quaint rekindling of an old childhood friendship, you never felt more wrong than in this moment — the air settles thick between you three.

“Isn't the future King Gojo just so kind?” Suguru addresses you, and you swallow, stifling your laugh.

“I pray for your marriage. . .” One of the Dukes seated at the table jests, to which you fiddle with the hem of your dress, the burgundy falling over your palms as a chorus of laughter ensues.

Marriage.

Suguru notices your gaze on him – or rather far away – and he smiles to snap you out of it. “Lady name?”

Just then Satoru’s hand reaches for yours under the table, halting your fiddling with the fabric, his grip steady and soft.

“Princess Consort.” Satoru interjects with a flat lipped smile, which could be perceived as kind, but to Suguru. . . “She changed titles.”

When was the last time someone called you by your name and not Princess consort? Always that. Not even Princess name.

“Pardon me,” you mumble beneath your breath, your grip on your dress going slack. You shrug your hand free from Satoru’s grip, abandoning your seat in an instant.

Satoru rises from his chair only four seconds afterward.

“Name—” he calls to you, following you out of the dining hall and down a vacant corridor.

Your footsteps evade him as he chases after you wide steps.

But he stops dead in his tracks when he hears you slam the door to an empty side room shut.

My dearest reader,

brace yourself for the

next publication.

Your kind author

bids you farewell.

#⋆ 🪷 A ROYAL AFFAIR ! ˚ ༘ *#👑 TSCC — series.#★ driaswrld #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fic

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heich0e · 9 months

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emperor au with sukuna, who rules his land fiercely and is renowned for his might, who is so taken with you—an entertainer brought along to the court by a visiting dignitary—that he doesn't allow you to leave.

to the scandal of the court, you're assigned the title of noble guest, an honour unbefitting of your lowly status. you're housed in lush private quarters, staffed with attendants who see to your care, but it's little more than a gilded cage. your voice extends only so far as it pleases him. your worth is in your song, but not your words. any pleas you make fall upon deaf ears, as though you never spoke them at all.

the emperor's concubines resent you, the servants whisper as they pass your quarters, no one meets your eye.

the only friends you have are the bird who visits the tree branch outside your window each morning, and yuuji: the little crown prince and sole son of the emperor, born to him by a concubine who died in the trials of childbirth. he's curious and friendly, sneaking in to see you when he can, bringing you flowers from the main gardens or telling you what sweets his staff served him that day. he's so different from the man who he so much resembles—warm and soft and kind in spite of the blood that made him.

sukuna comes to your quarters each night.

it's no surprise the concubines seethe when they catch sight of you. no surprise you feel the prick of their hatred even from their own distant courts. he eschews them in favour of you. leaves their beds cold and their prides bruised.

it's inevitable that the rumours spread, like the bird outside your window who takes flight when it's startled.

but the emperor doesn't enter your bed when he visits you.

you know he wants to. know he expects it. but when he calls upon you in the evenings, the two of you sit silently over tea or wine. you don't speak. each night, he greets you with the same request.

"will you sing for me?"

and each night you refuse him with your answering silence.

eventually he retires for the evening with the promise that he will return again. not a request. a reminder.

it's not patience that keeps the emperor's hands off you. not kindness that keeps your head upon your shoulders, when so many have met the opposite fate for lesser insolence.

no, it's something else. something crueller.

like the emperor enjoys the game the two of you are playing, because he knows—you both know—who ultimately will be the victor.

#sukuna x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing #emperor!sukuna

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nyctoaerah · 3 months

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⋆♱⋆BRAINROTTING ABOUT...

Content warnings: Tiny bit of Enemies to Lovers, Royalty Au, Yandere Behaviors, Manipulation, Arranged marriage, Explicit smut, Edging, Masturbation (M), PIV, Overstimulation, Perv! Sugu, Belly bulge. Dubcon if you squint. Mdni.

Pairings: Yandere! Crowned Prince! Suguru Geto x Fem! Reader.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 first found you on your empire’s garden, knees scraped and elbows muddy, with your clothes full of dirt and mud sweat dripping all over your body as you enthusiastically chases after frogs in your garden like it was a full-time job during his visit with his parents on your kingdom.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 was absolutely gobsmacked when he found out that you were his supposedly fiancee—because he half-expected a more sophisticated girl to be his future bride, and not some girl who looked like she had just escaped from a mental asylum.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 was mortified at the thought of having someone like you as his bride. After all, How could he possibly stand being linked with that looks like they’ve never heard of soap or a scrub brush in their life? He is but a clean freak after all.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 found himself being hauled off to your room for some forced quality time together. but when he reluctantly entered, and his eyes fell upon you, he realized that you actually looked pretty cute when you're not covered in dirt.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 who had a grin plastered on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he adopted a suave tone while he converses with you, showering you with compliments that are actually backhanded because he initially thought that you’re dumb and wouldn't caught on his insinuations.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 whose face transformed from smug confidence to sheer disbelief the moment your clever retort landed. The realization that you had caught onto his sly comments hit him like a ton of bricks, and he realized that perhaps, he had underestimated your wit, but who could blame him? Most women would have fallen for his seemingly charming facade without a second thought.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 had a small tick appear in his eye as your insults began to sting, but his smile remained plastered on his face throughout the heated exchange—albeit it was tight lipped. It wasn't until a particular cutting remark slipped from your lips that his smile faltered.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 thinks that you should watch your tongue, And he began to insult you too until it eventually broke into an argument with you two just hurling petty insults that doesn't even make sense.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 found himself not wanting to cut the engagement off anymore, because he secretly thinks that it's really attractive of you to speak your own mind, even though he simultaneously hated the fact that you were speaking against him.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 secretly enjoys it when you’re playing pranks on him, finding it cute when you would feign innocence.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 started to fall for you after some months and he finds himself wanting to get rid of that shitty attitude of yours and just mold you into his cute little obedient wife instead of being a mouthy lil’ brat.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 gets irritated time he caught sight of you engaging in conversation with a knight, or any man for that matter with a kind look in your face—and a polite way of speaking. The sight of you smiling to another man was enough to make him green with envy , for he, after all, was meant to be your betrothed and your smile should only be reserved for him, and him alone.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 would shower you with gifts and various tokens of affection in an attempt to win you over, and practically forcing your lady-in-waiting to discreetly share your likes and dislikes with him.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 found himself slowly getting obsessed with the way you treat him, and his infatuation only deepened when you began to gradually warmed up to him, exchanging the habitual scowl for a gentle smile whenever he would visit.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 would watch in amusement as you climb on a tree even though you were wearing a dress, and even encourages you to do so, instead of stopping you because he enjoys seeing your cute little panties.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 would often found himself stealing glances at your face while you’re reading a book, admiring how flawlessly your makeup complemented your features, before his gaze lingered on your lips, imagining the sensation of them against his own, or how it would feel to have those pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 gradually became more tactile with you as time goes by—planting delicate kisses trailing along the curve of your neck, the soft skin of your shoulders, but never on your lips because he wants to see you get needy for him. He would find his lower lip caught in his lips whenever he noticed the way you unconsciously squeezed your thighs together in response to his flirtatious gestures, fantasizing about how much he wanted you to suffocate him with those pretty thighs.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 would touch and edge himself at the thought of you, he would would stroke himself, imagining it was your hands on him instead while he watches the way his pretty pink tip, glisten from the way it’s leaking precum. He’d trace the prominent veins on his dick, watching as it would twitch eagerly in his grip. He would fuck his fist most of time, but stopping just when he was about to cum, because he wants you to make him cum instead.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 would pull you onto his lap, his strong arms encircling your waist as he buried his face in your neck. His lips would press heated kisses along the skin of your neck, his grip firm as he held you close to his chest while ignoring your feeble protests, and paying no mind to your futile smacks on his head or the curses that fell from your lips.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 would comfort you whenever you find out that your friends and the servants that you’re pretty close with have gone missing for some unknown reasons. he would hug you close to him and comfort you, while secretly enjoying the sound of your soft sobs, knowing damn well that he’s the reason why your friends are missing in the first place.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 gets aroused by the sight of your tears. yet, it also ignited a simmering annoyance deep in his gut. Why the fuck were you still crying over those missing friends of yours? He had removed them from your life for a damn good reason — they were nothing but trouble, probably talking shit about you behind your back. And who wouldn’t, really? You were far from the picture-perfect princess type, too real and raw for their shallow asses. He was just doing you a favor yet you’re crying for them. He would wrap his strong arms around you, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured sweet nothings, all the while planting poisonous seeds of doubt in your mind about your friends — talking sugarcoated shit about them and manipulating you into believing that they’re bad people.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 couldn’t stand to see those beautiful eyes of yours clouded with tears any longer. So, he took matters into his own hands, or rather, his lips. He crushed his mouth to yours, a desperate move to distract you from your sorrow. At first, you froze, your eyes widening in surprise, but as he deepened the kiss, you found yourself responding. Your soft lips parted slightly, and he took the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue. A low, guttural moan escaped his throat as he felt you begin to kiss him back, your hands tentatively rising to rest on his chest. It was supposed to be innocent, a comforting gesture, but his body had other ideas. And as the kiss intensified, he could feel his cock stirring.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 pulls you onto his lap, his grope forceful and eager and you can feel his cock through the thin fabric of your panties as he grinds his bulge against your crotch.

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐇𝐎 ended up pressing your face into the soft, cotton sheets, his hips snapping forward roughly as he fucked into your overstimulated cunt, fucking the stress and sorrow out of you

“Come on, baby, just a little more,” Suguru breathed, his hot breath tickling your ear as he pulled you close, his hand tight on your neck, his free hand slid down your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts, and pressed on the small bulge on your tummy, moaning at the sight.

“mm.. fuck, d’ya feel me in there, pretty?” He rasped before his hand went lower and teased your puffy clit with feather-light touches, making you squirm and whimper pathetically as he continued to fuck your overstimulated cunt.

“Haah.. you’re prettier when you’re crying tears of pleasure instead of tears of sorrow... so fuckin’ perfect, my pretty wife...”

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.♡

𝐀/𝐍: i got lazy on the plot and just went straight for the smut.. ugh, this is probably the most filthiest shit that i have done omg, crying rn bcs i’ll never be able to face my friends after this, probably.... The parasites have gotten into me😭😭 IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT! @terrorbladewho

PLEASE MY MOOTS, DON’T EVER SAY SOMETHING ABT THIS OR TALK A SINGLE WORD ABT THIS SHIT!!🥺🥺🙏🏻🙏🏻 THIS WAS REQUESTED AND THE PARASITES HV GOTTEN INTO ME

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sukirichi · 3 months

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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 012 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. minimal angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. explicit smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. physical violence. sex tapes. reader has a gun and almost uses it.

notes. i wanted the kiyoomi and suna girlies (/gn) to win so here it is! feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 12.9k

series masterlist

[ TWELVE ] for you, i would cross the line. i would waste my time, i would lose my mind. they say “she’s gone too far this time.”

You prided yourself in being logical.

There was little to no room for measly emotions when it came to royal affairs. Granted, you had no proper training, but you were raised as a noble, and the rules were clear. Set aside your emotions, always look towards the most plausible solution, and cry about it later – where no one could see. Those were your mother’s words. You held onto them for as long as you remembered, with the exception of making only one grand mistake: proceeding with the marriage after catching your fiancé cheating on you.

But now? Now, you were about to make your next worst decision – letting Kiyoomi walk away.

It wasn’t love, of course. It couldn’t be. The odds simply weren’t in your favor, but couldn’t a Princess hope? You met him first, had him as your last dance on your debut ball. He was the first Prince who ever held your hand, the first Prince to dance with you, and the first – possibly last – who reminded what love could feel like. What love should feel like. It was explosive and angry like fire licking up at your skin, begging, pleading at you to chase after him. Every nerve in your body protested as you watched him take one more step away from you. It’s a mistake, one I’ll regret – Don’t let him go. It screamed at you, its cries desperate to be heard. You didn’t want to be here in the Palace. You didn’t want to return to your shared quarters with Rintaro.

You wanted to go back to Itachiyama – his farmhouse, the castle ruins, riding aimlessly with Astra and Lucy, picking fruits from his garden, and spending hours in his library. You hadn’t even held your end of the promise yet to learn everything about him.

What did Kiyoomi love? What did he look like in his slumber? Does he talk in sleep? Does he steal the blankets? What about his favorite song?

You moved before you could think.

Closing the distance in hurried strides, you grasped the Prince’s elbow. He stiffened under your touch, his eyes unreadable through the dimly-lit hallways. “Your Highness. Wait,” you panted, “Listen… back at Itachiyama–”

“Do you want me?”

Your grip on him faltered. Briefly, you took a step back, but the Prince was having none of it. He easily closed whatever distance you attempted to put between you two, his face hard and eyes burning with passion. With yearning. You never thought a man could look so determined yet hopeless as he did, the picture-perfect image of ardor. His brows pinched together, his lower lip trembling as he sighed. “Do you want me?”

You shook your head.

If only it could be as simple as that.

“It’s wrong, my Prince. We couldn’t… We wouldn’t work out. I only meant to say that I do adore you, and I do not want whatever complicated feelings we have to ruin our friendship,” Lies. Every word uttered from your lips were nothing but measly lies. Kiyoomi could tell too – the hesitation written all over your face said otherwise. “I hope you understand. You and I – we’re impossible.”

You couldn’t tell which one you needed more: for him to deny your worries, or for him to agree that you were right. You figured both would be just as painful.

Kiyoomi’s nostrils flared as you looked away from him, feet shuffling in the other direction already. “Stop. Do not take another step. Don’t you dare,” with a low growl, you were suddenly pulled back against his warm chest. You gasped at the hardness of his body, the warmth of his skin, the tenderness of his touch. His lips were everywhere but the one place you needed it to be – lingering at the curve of your neck, his breaths fanning over your exposed collarbones. It was like he had set you on fire with one touch alone, his firm grip around your waist both eerily intimidating and lustrous. And he must’ve laughed – you weren’t sure anymore. All you knew was that you were completely under Kiyoomi’s mercy, and quite frankly, he could have his way with you as he pleased.

“If you do not choose me…” murmuring, your breath hitched as his lips briefly grazed your skin, making your pulse jump. “You will regret it. You will be unhappy with him.”

I’m already unhappy with him, you wanted to say, but the words died in your mouth.

You’d lost all forms of coherence under Kiyoomi’s spell. Especially in this compromising position, this scandalous way his hand now slowly trailed its way from your abdomen and up to the swells on your chest – Gods, what would any witnesses say? This wasn’t how a Prince held a woman that wasn’t his.

“Your Highness,” you tried to fighting from his grasp, only to fall momentarily back against him when finally, finally, his lips were now leaving marks on your neck. It took all of your willpower to not give in right there, to not sink your fingers in his delicious curls. You had to say no. “I-I think we’ve both had a long night. We should retire to our quarters.”

“I will allow it if it’s my quarters you’ll be sharing.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck – your gaze darted around the empty hallway, paranoid.

The lights had been dimmed hours ago, the staff retiring to their rooms, but it was so quiet your breathy moans could echo. Anyone could walk in and see you like this, pleading but not quite begging for the Prince to not stop holding you.

And it was wrong, so deliciously wrong.

“Please,” you closed your eyes, unable to stop yourself from craning your neck to give him access. Above you, Kiyoomi chuckled, the rumbling of his chest deliciously low.

“You should stop lying to yourself, Princess. You do not want him. Whatever attachment you still have for my brother, it is nothing but a pitiful excuse of familiarity. You keep him around because there is no other choice, but you cannot keep lying to yourself. You cannot keep lying to me that you do not feel as I do when I see the way you look at me,” grasping your chin with his much larger hand, Kiyoomi forced you to look into his eyes. Pools of inky depths stared back at you with part frustration, part lust – his skin already flushed with sweat. You couldn’t look away even if the world ended. There was only you and Kiyoomi, with his hand resting on top of your breasts and gently caressing, so light you might’ve thought he wasn’t there.

And you, breathless and reckless, clung to him like he was your last lifeline.

Kiyoomi dipped down. His nose brushed against yours, your breaths mingled before he breathed you in greedily. “I was never a man who had many desires, but you are the greatest of them all. You run through my mind even in my sleep, and you are the first thing I search for when I wake. So do not tell me you do not want me when I know it’s my name you cry out in your sleep.”

Your knees felt impossibly weak.

“What do you want me to do? I’m married. You’re married. Are you forgetting divorce is impossible?” you snapped back, shoving him until his back hit the wall. The painting above him clattered, yet the Prince seemed uncaring, his arms crossed against his chest as you breathed hard. This was preposterous – this could not go any longer. “This would never work. The people would never understand.”

“I do not care what they think.”

“I care what they think! My husband is already cheating on me, and his own people detest him for it. What more if they find out I have taken you as my lover?”

“Then tell me to go,” he whispered, tilting his head back as he stared at you almost defiantly, mockingly. Like he knew you wouldn’t have the courage to actually say it. “Tell me, and I will walk away.”

When Kiyoomi is met with silence, he scoffed. A smirk graced his handsome face before he’s grabbing you by the arm and twisting you, the positions reversed until your back hit the wall. There’s a slight ache pounding at the back of your head, but nothing – absolutely nothing – could tear your attention away from his lips crashing into yours. The kiss is nothing short of avidity. Kiyoomi devoured you like a man starved, molding the shape of his lips into yours while his large hand encompassed the entirety of your face. Thumbs running over your cheek, his imposing frame completely dominated you. Your bodies were now pressed into each other that it became difficult to tell where you began and the Prince ended.

All you knew was Kiyoomi kissed you like he spent most of his nights dreaming about it, sighing and groaning all at once before his tongue fought for dominance.

Pushing his tongue inside your willing lips, he tasted all of you. He spoke the words he struggled to say, the firm grasp on your hip keeping you in place beneath him a clear sign he didn’t want you anywhere but here. But you weren’t leaving. You’d be a fool to walk away now that you finally had a taste of him, and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

You wanted more, needed more.

Kissing him back harder, your palms flattened on his chest before you balled his shirt into your fists, uncaring if he’d walk back home flustered and wild. You simply needed him there; you wanted to breathe him in, to have nothing but him as your entire world.

“Stay,” you pleaded in between kisses, letting the Prince maneuver you until your bum landed flat on a table. Uncaring, the Prince swept aside all knick-knacks placed above it when his lips found yours again. And oh, a greedy man he was. Even after kissing you until you were breathless, he still hadn’t had his fill. His tongue danced with yours in this gentle melody only you two could sing, your bodies moving in sync like a choreographed dance. Your hand would wound up to tangle itself in his dark locks, his hands would scramble to undo his breeches, and willingly – wantonly – you would welcome him with all your being. It’s a dance between lovers, a forbidden tune you sang wholeheartedly, accompanied by your high-pitched moans once the Prince had himself buried in you – “Oh. Oh.”

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You, my Prince, it’s you,”

Biting down on your lip to muffle the noises you made, you heard the crescendo of the music. Rising and rising with overwhelming intensity at each note hit, each perfect thrust and drive into you. He hadn’t felt like anyone else. He was thicker and spread you open, impaled on his stiffness while you sat there helplessly to take it all. You felt empowered and weak at the same time, with your legs locking behind his chest as tears rolled down your face from the pleasure of it all, but Kiyoomi showed no signs of stopping.

Heavens, he might not even stop tonight, not when you sucked him in tight and made his breath stutter, his thrusts staggered.

“Kiyoomi,” you cried out, unable to keep quiet any longer. He simply held you carefully, a great contrast to his hips pistoning in and out of you – no, he held you like you were a porcelain doll he feared would break, someone he had to protect and cherish. And his eyes – droopy yet adoring – gazed upon you like you were worth more than any crown. “Oh, you are so…”

His forehead landed on top of yours, his lips minutely brushing against yours for a quick kiss. It’s rushed, frantic, yet intimate in ways you’d never experienced before. For once, sharing bodies with someone didn’t feel like just like sex.

For once, you finally made love with someone.

“Choose me, Princess,” he gritted his teeth, “It was always meant to be me.”

You awoke with a gasp.

Sitting up, your heart pounded in your chest, your skin clammy and drenched with sweat. A scan of your surroundings told you that you were in your room, the empty side of your bed a sign Rintaro kept to his word and left you alone. Closing your eyes, your head dropped down to your palms.

So it had been a dream, after all.

You really allowed Kiyoomi to walk away from you. And one mistake leading into another, you let Rintaro do the same.

Regret churned at your stomach. You could see it perfectly now – the drooping of the Prince’s shoulders, his gaze cast downwards when you bid him farewell. There were still traces of the happiness you felt in Itachiyama lingering on him just as he finally left, ones you were compelled to reach out to before it was too late. But it couldn’t be – you refused to give into your desires when it meant committing a sin. Rintaro didn’t deserve your loyalty, but he was still your husband, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’d been exactly like him.

In fact, you might be becoming like him with each passing day, and although you would never say it out loud, you understood him better now.

To find someone who could’ve been yours, someone who would’ve made you so happy against all odds, and to not have them at all – it felt like a cruel joke was being played by the Universe.

Is this what Rintaro felt like? Did he feel as if the world was being unusually cruel to him? Did he wonder what he could’ve done to deserve all this? Because those thoughts ran into your head long enough that you gave up on sleep, and rolled out of bed with a heavy heart and – shamefully – aching with need. Snatching your robe from the closet, you tiptoed out of the room. Rintaro was fast asleep in the sofa, his arm shielding his eyes from the lit candles. When he didn’t budge from his spot at you poking around him, you let out a sigh of relief and left the room. Clicking the door shut, you spun around, coming face to face with a wide eyed maid.

“Heavens!” you placed a hand on your chest, and then chuckled as the maid stepped back and bowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone would still be around.”

The maid frantically shook her head. She scratched the back of her head as her gaze darted around, seemingly determined to not look you in the eye. “No, Your Highness, it was my fault for startling you. I was reassigned to you just now, you see, and… Uhm, I’m Airi. Prince Shinsuke sent me here.”

Airi… You’d heard that name before.

“Oh! Airi. Yes, of course, I remember you,” you nodded, tying the robe around your waist tighter. “Why are you up this late?” At your question, Airi’s cheeks flushed a deep red before turning away. You smiled to yourself, chuckling under your breath as you gently squeezed her arm. “I understand. You needn’t say anymore.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to accompany me for a walk?” you gestured to the empty hall. Airi nodded, a little too enthusiastic in picking up her skirts. You figured neither of you wanted to stay here any longer where anyone could easily see you.

Turning to the other direction, you headed for the gardens at the outer wing. It was the closest to your shared room with Rintaro, and coincidentally, an infamous shortcut to Belleview’s surrounding gardens. There had been rumors that Belleview was added in the palace grounds as an afterthought years ago – how a sudden need arose to have a separate place for a married couple. It was bizarre, in your opinion, how this long, seemingly endless path would certainly end up right at Kiyoomi’s doorstep if you were patient enough to brave the half hour walk.

Could you?

Would you?

Absentmindedly, you gnawed at your nails. Your Mother would chastise you for the unladylike gesture if she were here, but it was only you and Airi. She wasn’t going to judge, although you didn’t miss the way she glanced at you so often. Curiosity, maybe, but a question imposed her eyes. Deciding to break the silence, you smiled at the dark-haired maid.

“You’re very pretty. I can see why the Prince fell for you.”

Airi stuttered in her steps. “Oh! Thank you, you’re too kind for that, but I doubt it’s because of the way I look. The Prince and I have known each other since we were kids, that’s all. My mother was a maid too before she died. She was the one who helped raise His Highness,” she babbled, grimacing when she realized your patient smile held little to conceal your amusement. “Uhm… If I may be so bold, my Princess, I think you look rather great for someone who has been cheated on.”

Your brows rose. That you hadn’t expected.

“I do?”

“Yes. You look unbothered by it, or at least, you seem to be doing a great job at it,” she offered a polite smile, “Being a royal must come naturally to you as a noblewoman.”

Unable to help it, you chuckled. Oh, how wrong she was.

“Not at all. I haven’t always been this way,” you told her, watching as your surroundings changed from the marble pillars and into the night sky, where the fresh, cold breeze bit at your skin. You were thankful for it – the cold atmosphere was a great contrast to the blooming, colorful flowers.

It somehow reminded you of Kiyoomi’s gardens, and how you probably wouldn’t see it anymore.

The smile on your face disappeared. The ring on your finger grew heavier, and unbeknownst to you, you started spinning it with your thumb. It was curious, truly, how a week was all it took before you completely lost yourself. You couldn’t remember who you were even like before Itachiyama, before Kiyoomi. Or could it be that the past you had never been fulfilled to begin with? What if you were merely a work in progress, and the you in this moment was the real one?

If that was true, then that could only mean two things you would never want to admit out loud.

One: that you weren’t as in love with your husband as you thought if you couldn’t get Kiyoomi out of your mind, or Two: that the traditional saying and belief was right – your last dance would be your fated lover.

And it would make sense, too. Of course, you were happy with Rintaro. Were. You fell in love with him simply because there was no other appropriate reaction. He was the Crown Prince, a man who called on you every single day and learned about your passions until night came. He charmed your parents, loved them as his own, and proudly presented you to his regal family. It was the kind of love little girls were taught to dream about. The kind of love everyone wanted. You couldn’t blame yourself for craving the Prince’s touch, for giving him all your firsts. It seemed only the right thing to do. He courted you, committed to you, loved you as much as he could – it was logical and methodical.

It was one plus one equals two.

But Kiyoomi? It didn’t feel natural, or a step by step process.

It felt all kinds of wrong because you shouldn’t, and all kinds of right because it’s him. It’s the way he smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking, or how his head is always turned in the other direction to act like he isn’t listening. He isn’t like Rintaro who never takes his gaze off of you – not because he can’t get enough of your beauty, but because he was watching. Rintaro was always watching, analyzing everything you did, crafting his actions and words perfectly to elicit the response he wanted from you.

His brother was the exact opposite.

Kiyoomi always stayed at the walls and blended in with the background. He never attracted any attention to himself, but would devote his entire focus on you simply because he’s entranced. Or you hoped he might. Surely it couldn’t be one-sided.

You felt it too – the frustration ebbing off of him each time you slipped away. You saw with your own eyes the way his face fell when news of your husband’s affair spread.

He didn’t hate his brother for sleeping with his mistress behind your back. He hated Rintaro for ruining a night that should’ve been yours. A night where his touch could linger on yours for a moment longer as you smiled for the cameras. A night where it’d be appropriate for him to look at you like you’re the star of the show – it’s camaraderie, you’d play off – and a night where he might’ve drove you back at the farmhouse and slowly, tenderly, begin with tugging your gloves off before he moved on to your dress.

Gods. You exhaled. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Kiyoomi, his plump lips that looked inviting, his dark eyes hungrily roaming over you and hoping, praying, that it’d been him instead. These were all wrong – so why were you walking towards Belleview?

“Your Highness?”

Airi’s voice snapped you out of your trance. Blinking, you smiled back at her in apology and continued. “Sorry, I must have been lost in my thoughts. As I was saying, though, I spent most of my life hiding behind my parents’ shadows because I struggled talking to people. And then the Crown Prince came and swept me off my feet, which changed everything. When he came into my life, I figured I had to become someone worthy enough to stay by his side, someone he could be proud to be with. It took a lot of years and effort before I could be confident enough to say I was good enough for him,” you mumbled, stopping in your tracks to look up into the dark horizon before you.

Huh. Why hadn’t you realized that before?

You’d been trying so hard to impress Rintaro all along. Isn’t that why you were so frustrated? You’d spent years molding yourself to become who he wanted, only to be slapped in the face that it was impossible because you could never be her.

You let out a dry laugh. “But apparently not. He already had someone else.”

“I’m really sorry you were dragged into this. From the stories Prince Shinsuke tells me, you’re a kind woman who deserved better.”

“I don’t know about that,” you said, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t mad upon reading the tabloids about his affair? If anything, I was just furious he couldn’t stay out of trouble and ruined my trip to Itachiyama.”

“Did you like it there?”

“I loved it. I wanted to stay.”

Admitting it out loud felt… liberating. You were beginning to feel more like yourself, even if it meant being less of a Princess and more of this unorthodox woman who simply wanted to be. It must be the side effect of spending time with Kiyoomi. You would soon care less about the rules imposed on you, and unapologetically be yourself.

“But the world sure has a cruel way of bringing you back to reality.”

“Your Highness?”

Both yours and Airi’s head snapped at the sound. Amongst the rustling of the bushes, a tall figure suddenly appeared – all mighty and regal even in his creased blouse and loosely tied breeches. His hair, dark and tousled like he’d run his fingers through it, did little to hide the surprise on his face.

“My Prince,” you breathed out, “What are you doing out here so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And you?”

You fought back a smile at his raspy voice. You could almost picture it – Kiyoomi tossing and turning all night in a bed separate from Iris. The sanguine voice in your head fibbed, too, wondering if the Prince thought about you as well. “It’s a restless night,” was all you let on, and gestured to the shock-still maid beside you. “Airi, do you mind giving us some privacy?”

Vehemently, she shook her head. “Not at all, Princess. Please, call for me if you need anything. I won’t be far.”

You waited as Airi disappeared from sight before you stepped closer to the Prince, compelled by an invisible force to be closer to him. “Kiyoomi–”

“Are you well?”

“Me? Why do you ask?”

He tipped his head to the side, causing a lone curl to fall in front of his eye. You fought back the urge to brush it away, beguiled by his long fingers sweeping it away “You’re in a very difficult position right now, whatnot with the article spreading,” he gestured back to the castle, “Has he spoken to you?”

You shook your head. “He’s kept to himself the past few days. I think this is a lot harder on him than it looks. As for me, well… I’ve had better days.”

True to your word, Rintaro almost secluded himself from the world. He shut off his phone, chucked it at another corner of the room, and never touched it again. It was painful seeing your husband that way when you know of his hobby of endless scrolling. But now, he couldn’t stomach the social media wishing him ill, seeing so blatantly with his own eyes his people’s deference to him. It hurt – more so for him than you – but still, a small part of you wished he’d say something. You were there, were you not?

You cut off your trip short because your husband needed you, and he barely uttered a word since you arrived. It got at your nerves. Nevertheless, you’d give him the time he needed. You planned to keep to your word that you would fix this all for him, regardless of what that might take.

You weren’t so cruel to let your husband be dragged into the pits of hell. Because quite frankly, that wasn’t the media’s right to begin with. If anyone would unleash hell upon Rintaro and Iris, it had to be you.

Kiyoomi scanned your face. “You don’t seem upset about all of this.”

You shrugged. “Their secret would’ve gone out one way or another. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I have far, bigger things to worry about, like you,” you leveled your gaze with his, watching as the Prince sucked in a breath.

Your last conversation with him the past night still played in your mind. It ate away at you to have to say goodbye when you didn’t want to, but he was here now. You woldn’t waste the opportunity to make things right.

Steeling yourself, you shut your eyes tight to gather courage. “Kiyoomi… Your Highness. I… I do not wish to stop talking to you. I know I sound absurd because I haven’t known you that long, but everything we shared in Itachiyama, I cherish it. I won’t forget a single memory I shared with you. So please allow me to take back what I said. I didn’t mean it when I said I would stop talking to you.”

“You should, though.” Opening your eyes, your heart dropped into your stomach when the Prince took a step back. “I don’t think we can be friends, Princess.”

Your hands grew cold and clammy.

“W-Why not? Have I done something to offend you? Tell me, and I will correct it–”

“We cannot be friends because I do not wish to be just your friend.”

Whatever distance he created between you disappeared. In the blink of an eye, Kiyoomi had closed the gap in one smooth stride, leaning down close enough his nose nearly brushed yours.

You inhaled sharply at the proximity. Kiyoomi’s heat blanketed you, making you realize you’d been shivering from the cold prior to his arrival. Now, he was here, and your senses were filled to the brim with him – his scent, his warmth, his frame looming over yours making you feel protected instead of small. You couldn’t help it; your fingers twitched to pull him by his collar and finally have his lips pressed to yours. It’d been eating away at you for several nights.

A peck couldn’t hurt.

But you made no move, greedily sharing in the same breaths instead. Because if it was all you could have, then it was all you could get.

“You’re right. It does sound absurd. We have barely spoken to one another, yet I’m already tired of this stupid game my brother is playing – his foolish plans to become King, make my wife his concubine, all with the intention of keeping you around like a pet. It makes my blood boil,” Kiyoomi grinned, though it was more sinister than genuine. “He cannot have everything for himself. I will not let him.”

“My Prince. I–”

“–Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with you, nor do I have any intentions of stooping down to Rintaro’s level and stealing what isn’t mine,” cruel, you think, as the Prince effectively cut you off with a brush of his thumb to your lips. You were now putty at his hands; melting and knees weakened with nothing but his touch holding you up. “But I am tired of seeing you this distraught over a man who cannot see your worth. I have had enough. So whatever plans you may have to retaliate, tell me, and I will gladly be a pawn in your game. Make your move. You may command me as you please.”

It took a moment before his words dawned on you. When it did, your palms flattened on his chest, absorbing its warmth and feeling the flutter of his heart underneath your fingertips. He felt so alive, whole, and well – you couldn’t possibly drag him into your mess.

“I could never use you like that. You know this.”

“So you do have a plan in mind,” he noted with a smirk, fingers crawling up to circle your wrist. “My brother really underestimated you, hasn’t he? You’re already proving to be far more dangerous than any sword.”

You flushed warm at his compliment. Pretty, yes, Rintaro has called you that multiple times. Beautiful, gorgeous, even, but dangerous? It made you feel powerful, like the crown was already on your head, and the kingdom was all yours for the taking. But greed often started out as a small flicker of fire, and you stomped on it as quickly as it breathed into life. You were no thrill seeker – you would not dabble or tread in dangerous, unknown, forbidden paths. Such paths like Kiyoomi, but it was there. The temptation. The calling to just reach out to the hand he’s offered.

Its voice beckoned you. Come, it whispered oh-so-sweetly at your ear, he is your puppet.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation. “It isn’t a good plan at all, and the Queen has summoned us – all of us – to inform us of her decisions on how we will proceed with this scandal. There’s a good chance Her Majesty might get in the way, but I’m determined. I need this plan to work.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I plan on turning the tables around and pinning it on Iris. I know it’s dangerous – she’s your wife, and you might get caught in the crossfire–”

“Do as you please.”

“Are you serious?”

Kiyoomi nodded with resolve. “When I said I do not wish to be just your friend, I meant it. I want you to use me. I want to be your weapon,” nudging his nose with yours, he brought up your hand to his lips, kissing the glimmering diamond on your ring. A kiss of rebellion, a war cry, or a silent plea to be dominated – it said everything and too little all at once. “If there is anything I can do to help you escape this royal hell, I will do it.”

You closed your fist around his lips, and basked in the ghostly flutters it will leave upon your skin hours after he has gone. Then, you questioned it all: how could something so poignant evoke a raging will within you?

“It will be hard for you, Your Highness,” you warned him, “My plan is not a kind one.”

“I do not have very kind thoughts myself,” he chuckled, the sound dark and ominous. “But you should be careful, Princess. Iris is not who you think she is. If you are to proceed with your plan, you need to watch out for yourself, and Maiko especially.”

Maiko? What could Maiko’s involvement with Iris be?

“She won’t hurt Maiko, will she?”

“She wouldn’t dare, but I can’t guarantee she won’t try doing something to you,” with a wary gaze, Kiyoomi immediately masked it with that of indifference. Scanning the surroundings, and hearing nothing but the crickets of insects and the rustling of bushes from the wind, Kiyoomi wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you back. Iris is probably somewhere close.”

You were never one to feel much fear, but in that moment, a sense of numbing chill settled in your bones. Goosebumps arose on your skin. It was almost like you could feel it – her sharp gaze, her wicked and deceivingly innocent smile. You shivered despite yourself and huddled closer to the Prince, letting him guide you through the garden’s maze when his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Do you wish to know what would make Iris tick?”

“What?”

“It may be Rintaro who she wants,” his breathy voice caressed you, sending a different set of shivers down your spine. “But it is I whom she would kill to keep. Present yourself as a threat, make her believe you can steal me from her, and you will find her willingly offering Rintaro to you.”

You scoffed. “And if I don’t want him?”

“Then you shall always have me.”

Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi…

The Prince’s last words haunted you. Moreover, the way he looked with the moonlight illuminated upon him… he felt surreal. He came to you in your dreams more than once, caressing you in places he shouldn’t be touching, filling you in ways you never thought possible. A part of you wondered if it was merely your brain coping with the fact you’d mistakenly lain in bed with Rintaro. How you’ve felt disgusted with yourself ever since, and found it hard to look in the mirror. Perhaps it was simply a trick of the brain – replacing the man who left marks on you with the man that could’ve made you feel better. And you knew Prince Kiyoomi would – with those large, calloused hands, and luscious lips you spent countless hours gazing upon… would it be such a sin to wish they hadn’t been dreams only?

Picking up the nearby body wash, you scrubbed yourself clean of Rintaro. Your body still ached from last night’s events, but your heart clenched for an entirely different reason. Seriously. You couldn’t believe it. First, he’d let himself get caught in the action, and you let him sleep with you? You could’ve pushed him away. You could’ve said no.

It didn’t have to lead to whatever happened last night.

But then again, laughing to yourself, why did you chastise yourself so much? He was your husband. You were both married – sleeping with him wasn’t a mistake. Yet why did it feel like it? It felt as if… you kept on letting him take and take from you. How long until you’ve had enough? How much more could you give before there was nothing left of you?

You sighed, sinking deeper under the water. It’d been hours since your previous encounter with the older prince, and he hadn’t left your mind since. His offer for you to make use of him like he was a weapon, or worse, a tool, wasn’t an opportunity you could let pass by.

You could make use of him. He had more access to Iris than you ever could, and planting spies in Belleview Manor sounded terrible. She’d probably won over their loyalty judging by the way they kept their mouths shut that first night you arrived there to give her tea for her ‘headache.’ She had secrets, that you were sure of, but did Kiyoomi know them too? What was her connection with Maiko? Surely… Maiko wasn’t involved in whatever schemes they had in mind. The Princess was too sweet and innocent for that, but then again, so was Iris. The so called ‘dear friend’ of your boyfriend before he’d asked for your hand in marriage.

This was proving to be nearly impossible.

It was hard to tell who to trust within the Palace. Kita would be at your side, but you couldn’t possibly involve him in your plan. He might not even approve of it. It would be against the law, and it wasn’t the kindest thing one could think of. Kita would call it ‘the opposite of justice.’

“I hope the meeting went well, Princess?”

Popping your head from the water, you watched as Airi entered the room, folded towels in her arms. She’d prepared a bath for you long before you arrived, the water warm and filled with bubbles – just how you liked it. The room smelled faintly of roses, too, and you made a mental note to thank Airi for her efforts.

“It was great. His Highness and I discussed a lot,” he almost kissed me, too, but she didn’t need to know that, or the fact you wished he did. “Oh, and Airi.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

You pondered over it, you really did it. It was out of your character to abuse the power you had, yet you couldn’t stop the heat flaring in your veins. The pettiness that begged to be revealed. “Could you have someone call L’Essenxe Royale? Tell them I want them to discontinue their Vanilla Candy line because I’m allergic to it, and it would be a shame if I had to stop purchasing their perfumes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Airi nodded, stopping in her tracks after a beat. “I wasn’t informed you were allergic to vanilla. I’m sorry, I’ll do better in catering to your needs more.”

“I’m not allergic. I just don’t want to smell Iris ever again.”

Just before Airi could respond, the doors swung open. Suna sauntered in like he owned the place, the top three buttons of his white shirt undone and loose. His collarbones and the top of his chest shone with sweat, his skin flushed and his dark hair messily swept to the sides. He must’ve gone for his early training – and damned him for looking good.

You snorted inwardly. But Prince Kiyoomi probably looked better.

“There you are. I didn’t get to see you before I left.”

“Airi, please give us a moment,” you requested from where you sat, arms lazily resting on the sides of the tub. Airi scurried out of the room with reddened cheeks – no doubt picturing what events could transpire between a naked wife and her insatiable husband. And speaking of said husband, he’d leant against the pristine white walls, arms crossed against his chest as he let those dark, hooded eyes roam over your exposed skin.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I think the real pleasure here is this view.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is that what you told your mistress too when you fucked her in my bed?”

Suna paused. It was a bait; he was sure of it. Choosing not to bite at your provocation, he pushed his weight off the wall and gestured to the doors. “You redecorated the room,” he announced, “Without my permission.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission. I thought we made it clear – under your suggestion – that I was to sleep in that bed, and you take the couch outside. Technically, that would make it my room, no?”

“You made Airi burn the sheets.”

“Sue me.”

“You threw away Iris’ clothes.”

“They barely counted as clothes, Your Highness. They were just thongs.”

“If this is about last night–”

“Last night was a mistake. Never speak of it again,” you warned, and just the mere reminder that you’d let him have his way with you, and you were too weak to refuse, again, no longer made the relaxing bath enjoyable. All of Airi’s efforts poured down the drain because having Suna around had your muscles stiffening with tension again. Rising from the bath, you wiped off the bubbles and suds off your body before stepping out. “What did you truly come here for? You never bother me when I’m bathing.”

Suna’s hungry gaze followed your every movement. The perverted bastard wasn’t even trying to hide it – his poor attempts of adjusting his breeches a failure once you’d put on your robe. “Her Majesty has summoned us for breakfast. She has an important announcement to make. I suggest you make haste so she won’t be anymore upset with us.”

“With you, you mean,” you waved around your lip balm, “What? Don’t look so offended. I am not the one who caused a scandal here.”

“I’m tired of arguing with you.”

You couldn’t agree more. Smacking your lips together, you walked past him, making sure to sashay your hips as you did. But before you could leave the room, Suna’s hand shot out to wrap it around your wrist. Gently, he pulled you back into him until your breasts brushed with his chest, the dampness of your robe making his shirt stick even harder on his skin.

“Wait,” he breathed out, not once taking his eyes off you as he blindly swiped for a towel. “Let me dry you off properly. It would be a shame if you made a mess on your newly decorated room.”

Your husband fell down on his knees before you could say a word.

You almost asked him what he was doing when his hands tugged at the ties of your robes, his tender touch pushing them past your shoulders until the robe pooled at your feet. You inhaled sharply. Suna was kneeling before you, caressing your leg and urging you to place at his thigh. You don’t know what compelled you to obey, but you did. Resting it on his leg, you felt too exposed – his nose was right at your stomach, his hands touching everywhere but that one place near your heat.

It was torture.

The entire act was done with slow, purposeful motions. Like an artist taking great care with his sculptures, he pressed hard on your hips to keep you in place when you shivered. His strength, his silent gestures that he wouldn’t let you slip and fall – it broke your heart.

Why couldn’t he love you?

Why couldn’t he touch you this way and mean it?

Why did he have to remove his ring?

The glint of the golden material caught your attention from the vanity. You picked it up where he left it last night, unconsciously hugging it to your chest until you fell asleep. Until now, you’d brought it with you, and stared at it hard enough it might’ve melted. It never did, just as he would never belong to you. And then – his finger swiped over your nipple, the cloth on his hands now damp and his breath staggering as he moved to kiss your bare stomach.

You pushed his head away.

Suna stumbled back, barely. He sat there with a dazed expression, the towel he used to dry you with now forgotten. His hands shook in his lap, his eyes blown wide with something you couldn’t quite name – longing, regret, frustration. Whatever it was, it matched yours.

“I’m dry enough,” you told him, snatching off his ring from the counter and flicking it his way. The two of you watched as it stumbled along the ground with a loud clink, clink, clink, before it rolled right at his feet. When you finally found the courage to speak, your voice was so quiet – you couldn’t hear yourself at all. “Wear it. I don’t care that it no longer means anything to you. I won’t have you causing anymore problems for me when your mother asks about it.”

When you and Suna sat next to each other at the dining hall, neither of you spoke a word.

In fact, not a single person present dared to. Her Majesty sat at the head of the table, the clink of her utensil the only thing audible as she furiously cut into her steak. She was furious, that much was obvious. Even Crown Prince Ushijima hadn’t touched his meal, and his young son, barely a boy of eight, had his lips shut the entire time.

Finally, she takes a bite, takes a huge drink of her wine, and slams the glass down. All of you jump at the sound.

“It is not every day we can all be gathered here, but as you are all aware, it is a trifling time for the Crown. We as the royal family need to be united now more than ever,” she announced, her back straight as she looked everyone in the eye. “Which is why I am here to inform everyone of some minor changes we will implement from now on, and some events we have planned for the next season. First of all, Princess–” she pointed her knife your way, “-I need you to hold your mother back. She’s getting on my nerves with all her incessant calling.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she lifted her chin, “Your Mother hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article was released. She demands I return her to you, but I think she forgets her place and yours. You are a Princess now; you are the Crown’s property. You are to stay here and see to your duties until you take your last breath.”

Forcing a smile, you willed yourself to calm down. “My mother was merely concerned, Your Majesty. I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you to tell her to stand down. I have already spoken with my advisors our next course of action and have all decided that we will deny Rintaro and Iris’ affair by all means. We are to pretend as if the article never existed. We need to show we are the Crown, the monarchs and rulers of this grand kingdom. We will not be swayed by measly gossip and defaming rumors.”

“But it wasn’t a rumor. The Crown Prince did sleep with the Princess.”

Her Majesty sighed, the sound dramatically drawn out. “Do you have any complaints, my dear? Because if you did, then you should have attended the meeting this morning.”

You gritted your teeth. “I wasn’t informed there was one.”

“That’s a shame – I thought Rintaro would tell you. It seems he likes to keep his secrets, then,” she jabbed, and your husband nervously sipped his wine as you glared at the sides of his head. “Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we planned a few events for this season. For this month, the four of you will be showing up to public events and you are to appear united in marriage. Laugh, kiss, hold hands – I do not care. Just make sure the cameras get it, and if anyone dares ask on any clarifications about the affair, simply tell them that it is very easy to fabricate photographs nowadays. You will deny everything. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” agreed Suna, and you scoffed. Snaking his hands under the table, he squeezed yours in assurance and whispered, “Don’t cause a scene in front of the Queen. We will talk later about this.”

“I was hoping we would.”

“Next, Iris and Y/N will be having weekend dates to show they are friends. We have already contacted an orphanage you will pay a visit to. Play with the kids, read storybooks with them, and get as many pictures as possible. Not only will it show that there’s camaraderie between you two, but hanging out with children will also imply that we can expect a next line of heirs soon.”

“A splendid idea!” Atsumu beamed, the first to dig into his meal. Rather, the Prince was halfway finished stuffing his mouth, happily rubbing his hands together at the thought. “This will all be good for the Crown, and to win the people’s trust back.”

“You really don’t know how to shut up, huh?” muttered Osamu.

“Your Majesty. Don’t you think this is going too far?” Tobio spoke up, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. Beside him, Prince Shinsuke was pleading for him to sit back down. The youngest Prince merely slapped his hands away, looking betrayed by his brother’s words. “Why is no one speaking up? Is this how the royal family really is? You would all lie to your people, deceive them we are all in one heart and mind when we are not. Is that the kind of rulers we aspire to be? Are we really the rulers they look up to?”

Prince Shinsuke pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand you’re upset, but the throne wouldn’t have lasted this long if none of us pulled some strings and kept up deceiving acts. Trust me, I also do not wish to take a part in this, but Her Majesty is right. The people are already growing restless that we have been without a King for years – having Crown Prince Rintaro’s reputation tarnished will not make this better. And as far as I know, there are still many protests against having an illegitimate child on the throne,” he reminded, causing Prince Ushijima to clear his throat awkwardly. Still, Shinsuke pushed on. “Rintaro is the King the Cabinet wants. We must follow the law. Ushijima can only be crowned King until we have ran out of options.”

Your jaw dropped.

“And what of me?”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, the future of the Kingdom is a heavier matter at hand than your broken heart,” Iris quipped, “Besides, if you knew about our relationship prior to the marriage, then you cannot blame anyone but yourself. You’re in this predicament because you were too cowardly to let go when given the chance.”

“That’s enough!” Tobio yelled. “You all need to stop talking about her like that. You’re all right – the Crown is more important. We need a stable ruler and for the people to not lose their trust in us. But the Princess is still a human. She was lied to, manipulated, and constantly looked down on. The least you can do right now is let her acknowledge her pain, seeing as it is clearly too much for each and every one of you to be decent human beings!”

Her Majesty paid him no mind. Waving her hand in the air dismissively, she sighed. “He is young. He will understand someday.”

At her nonchalance, Tobio’s nostrils flared. It was the last you saw of him before he kicked his chair back, storming out of the hall before everyone erupted into protests. Keiji slunk back into his seat, Shinsuke was immediately making efforts to appease the Queen by apologizing on everyone’s behalf, and Maiko was crying. And you? You glowered at the Queen before following after Tobio, the three other Princes right at your heels.

The doors slammed shut behind you.

You could hear the Princes running after you. Two pairs were rushing, but one pair of footfalls sounded more like stomping. Before you could turn down the hall where Tobio went, you were dragged by, Suna firmly gripping your elbow as he halted you in your tracks.

“Her Majesty was speaking,” he hissed, fingers digging harder to your skin. “Don’t be rude.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rintaro. I can’t believe you right now. Letting me be friends with your mistress? Really? And you didn’t even tell me there was a meeting this morning!”

His free hand ran through his hair. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would act like this. You would’ve embarrassed me in front of the advisors. Besides, you left before I could–”

“I embarrass you? Do you even hear yourself? You’re the embarrassing one for going behind my back and sleeping with your mistress–”

“She’s not my mistress!”

“Isn’t she? I wasn’t aware there was another word to describe a woman frolicking with a married man!”

His grip grew tighter as he spoke, and you squeaked out in pain. You tried to pry his fingers off of you, but Suna wasn’t having any of it. “You’re one to talk, leaving me here in this country to go around dancing with my brother–” Your husband’s face disappeared before you. In the blink of an eye, he was shoved nearly across the room and falling right at his ass.

Kiyoomi stood protectively over you, his chest rising and falling as he shook with anger.

“Stay away from my wife!”

Meanwhile, Tooru dodged between Suna and Kiyoomi, the former rising on his feet and reeling his arm back in a punch. Tooru effortlessly caught his brother’s arm, but holding him back was a different struggle of itself. “Rin, that’s enough!”

“Are you okay?”

You blinked back from the scene. Kiyoomi was now holding your arm where Suna grabbed you, checking for any injuries. Aside from a little aching, and a possible bruise that would show up tomorrow, you were unharmed. Still, the Prince wasn’t assured. His thick brows pinched together in concern, turning your arm over and over as he muttered to himself the violent things he wished to do to his brother. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not really, but I want to go after Tobio.”

Kiyoomi nodded in understanding. “Go. I’ll handle this.”

You shared a knowing look with him. I’m on your side, his eyes said, and that was enough to reassure you. Giving him a nod, you quickly turned on your heels and ran. You ran and ran until you were out of breath, your corset digging into you uncomfortably. The youngest Prince sure was a fast one – he’d already reached his own study in such a short time.

Peeking through the partially closed door, your heart broke at the sight.

Prince Tobio sat on his painter’s stool, an unfinished portrait of you – smiling in your wedding dress – lay before him. He was crying, sniffling to himself and wiping his tears with the collar of his blouse. Even the sounds of his cries were too painful to hear.

Shutting the door behind you, you took your place behind him, gently squeezing his shoulders to make him look up. When he did, his bloodshot eyes greeted you.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all of that,” you tell him softly, “I didn’t mean to ruin breakfast for you.”

Tobio shook his head. He pulled out a handkerchief before blowing on it, and you smiled despite yourself – he’d grown so much, yet he was still that sweet, naïve boy in your eyes. It felt like a lifetime ago when he had his debut, and now he was flourishing into such a great, young man. Your little brother, the sweetest Prince – you would do anything for him.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, sis. You’re the victim here.”

You laughed a little. Victim sounded too poor of a word choice. Turning to the canvas before you, you gestured to it. “What are you painting?”

“You,” he admitted with red cheeks, “I started on this when Rintaro announced he’d be marrying you so I could give it as a wedding gift. But Her Majesty wanted me to focus on my studies, so I didn’t have enough time to finish. I mean, it’s not even the same dress you wore on your wedding so it’s inaccurate–”

“-It looks beautiful.”

“It’s still unfinished,” his shoulders slumped in your flattery before he lightened up, already moving to pick up the brushes as he wiped his snot with his hanky. “Since you’re here, would you like me to paint you as you are now? I’ll get a new canvas.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to lose all your efforts on your previous painting.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured, and per his instruction, you sat stiffly to ‘pose’ for him. It’s a little awkward, and Tobio struggled to sketch you each time you fidgeted, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. Midway through his sketch, though, he placed his pencil down, his eyes brimming with tears again. “I still can’t believe Rintaro was capable of being so cruel. I’ll never forgive him for what he did,” he said, his lower lip quivering. “Are they really like this? Is everyone in the Palace truly so heartless? Will I… never find love of my own, too?”

“Oh, Tobio,” you reached your arms out, crushing him to your chest. The Prince’s tears dampened your dress, though you paid it no mind. He was too young for all this hurt – this war over the crown. He was too good for a cruel place like this. “It will get easier someday.”

Fisting your skirt, he buried his face to your neck, his whole body shivering under you. “I never wanted to be a Prince. I-I wanted to keep playing sports and go pro someday. There’s a whole world out there for me to see, and I’m so afraid I’ll never become the person I want to be. I’m afraid I might turn out like my brothers.”

You pulled back to make him look at you. Cupping his face with your hands, you shook your head firmly. “That’s not true, Tobio. You’re already a thousand times better than your brothers. Look, you’re sweet, kind, and passionate. Who says you don’t deserve to achieve your dreams? You can be who you want to be. You can see the world. I promise you that I’ll support you in anything you want to do. Anything.”

“Really?” grinning, he wiped his cheeks free from his tears. “Then… will you come to my game? There’s a match and the Coach just added me to the team. It… Well, it might be a good opportunity for you and everyone else to show you’re unaffected by the scandal, too.”

“Oh, forget the scandal. I only want to see you play,” you tell him, and the Prince’s innocent smile is so big and bright it soothed all the aches in your heart. You promised to yourself, then and there, that you would do what it takes to protect that smile. “Now, should we get to this painting?”

That talk with Tobio filled you with unwavering resolve.

The poor boy didn’t deserve to spend a minute longer in the Palace. It simply wasn’t a place for him. He needed to be out there, living his life to the fullest, and to be surrounded by good people who were healthy for him. Not his greedy, cheating brothers, and most especially not with the heartless Queen as his only mother figure.

You had to do something for him. You had to weaken the throne even further, exploit their weakness and make the monarchy crumble. If not for you, then you would do it for Tobio.

It was the reason you’d gained enough courage to dial the number weighing heavily in your pockets long before Itachiyama. That piece of paper Kiyoomi slipped into your coat just before you parted ways. You should’ve known it back then – Kiyoomi was somehow always one step ahead of you. It’s like he knew what you wanted to happen before you said out loud. What you needed before you told him what it was. And you’d done it – scheduled the meeting, hired a private chauffer, and rented out a restaurant in the middle of nowhere at the dead time of the night before you could change your mind.

Do it For Tobio. For Kiyoomi. For you.

He arrived not a minute later than the designated time. He stood tall and confident – seemingly unbothered by the mass of hate he’d accumulated. Sauntering in through the doors with a smirk, he let out a low whistle, impressed with the lack of people. You had promised him privacy, after all, and if you wanted to succeed in your plans, you couldn’t be shy in splurging a little bit of money.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, was it?”

“Your Highness,” he greeted with a bow, his smile growing wider as he pulled out his chair. He’s handsome, with a smile you wouldn’t deem trustworthy, and he held an aura to him that warned you to tread carefully. He was, after all, the man who singlehandedly exposed your husband’s affair. “I am flattered by your efforts, though I must admit. I did not expect you would reach out to me of all people. I assumed you wanted my head.”

You offer him a polite smile. “You have it all wrong. In fact, I’m thankful for the opportunity you’ve presented to me,” leaning forward, you slid a thin envelope his way. Inside it contained a document of your own words, one you trusted Kuroo would twist to sound more convincing. “I want you to publish another article.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened. He waited for a beat, a moment or two, for you to say you didn’t mean it. You could’ve been joking. But you hold his gaze, your smile just as firm, refusing to waver from his intense gaze. “With all due respect, Ma’am, I think I’m already in enough trouble for that last one.”

Fair enough. You didn’t think he’d be that easy to convince.

Reaching beside you, you pulled out a case and clicked open the locks for him. If Kuroo was surprised before, he was most definitely flabbergasted by now. Wads of cash piled against each other stared back at him – temping him to reach out and take it. Smiling to yourself, you gently nudged the case in his direction.

“This is half of what I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you twice as much once you’ve done your part,” you promised, “You don’t need to fear, Mr. Kuroo. I’ll guarantee your protection if you do this for me.”

Kuroo chuckled to himself. Shutting the case back shut, he was quick to slide it to his side – deal done and closed. “If a lovely Princess is asking so nicely, I can’t possibly turn it down, can I?” pulling out a small notebook from his coat, Kuroo uncaps his pen with a twist of his teeth. “So let’s get into it. What story do you want, Ma’am? Do you want the truth or… something more scandalous than your husband’s affair?”

“I want you to ruin Iris,” you declared, “Inside that envelope is a list of people the Princess frequently interacts with, as well as records from her history dating back from when she moved here with mother. I want you to look into everything and pick apart whatever could destroy her reputation. There are secrets that she keeps, and I want them out in the public.”

Kuroo doesn’t bother writing that down. “Her reputation is well ruined already, Ma’am. I doubt much could make it worse.”

Your brow shoots up. “Are you doubting my abilities or questioning my demands?”

“Neither,” he reassured with a mischievous grin, “I shall write something about her, then, but what about the Crown Prince? Do I still have the assurance of your protection if he comes after me for messing with his precious little thing?”

Oh, please. His ‘precious little thing’ doesn’t even want him.

Spinning your wedding finger with your thumb, you stared at it. “Tell me, Kuroo. You’re a journalist, one that wasn’t invited at that private party my husband was in. So why were you there that night? Most importantly, how did you get their photos?” you brought your gaze back up to him, “You’re not secretly planning for the downfall of the crown, are you?”

Kuroo scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness. But to answer your question, then no, I wasn’t invited. I wouldn’t even know a single thing about their affair if it wasn’t for one of you.”

“One of us?” you echoed, “Are you saying someone in the royal family hired you as well?”

“Indeed. Though I must say, I never expected working with just one of you could have me set for life. What more if I teamed up with you too?”

So your theories were right. That article didn’t appear out of nowhere – someone wanted it to happen. “It was Iris, wasn’t it? She asked you to publish that because she knew I was with her husband… but that wouldn’t make any sense. That article puts her in a bad light. It couldn’t be her, right?”

“You’ll be surprised, Ma’am, but it was not the Princess,” he clarified.

Kuroo’s face pinched in contemplation, and then suddenly, pulls out a different phone from his pockets. It’s a beat-up iPhone with its battery nearly dead, but with a few clicks here and there, the video played loud and clear. The camera is shaky, the angles all wrong. Whoever recorded it clearly seemed to be inebriated. Yet there it was – the unmistakable masculine voice groaning, the slapping of skin against each other, and a high-pitched womanly moan. The camera caught nothing but long, blond hair flowing on top of her bouncing breasts before the camera was flipped, finally showing the culprit –

“Atsumu?”

Atsumu gripped Yuki’s hips, shoving the phone between their bodies to show the pistoning of his cock in and out of her. There was no point denying it now. Both their faces were clear from the video, and if this got out…

Kuroo paused the video. “I’m not supposed to be showing you this, but the Prince hasn’t kept up to his end of the bargain, so I might as well ask for your help, too,” shutting the phone off, Kuroo rested his chin on his hands. “That night, he slept with an intoxicated actress and accidentally filmed themselves in the act. The Prince was drunk himself, made the mistake of posting that video online, and merely eighteen minutes later, any traces of their sex tape disappeared. Curious?”

The pieces of the puzzle finally fit.

“He called you to write about Iris and Rintaro to cover up his scandal.”

He snapped his fingers. “Bingo! And he succeeded, even if it was an impulsive decision on his side. Still, the Prince paid me handsomely because he was desperate, but he hasn’t offered me protection like he promised. I’m being hunted down by the Queen’s goons as we speak. Isn’t that why you offered to have me chauffeured here?”

You knew Kuroo prioritized his safety over money due to his current predicament. It was the reason why you risked sneaking out of the Palace and meeting him alone. His terms were clear – no witnesses, no guards, just you and him. You would keep to your word if it meant cornering Iris, but with Atsumu and that poor actress thrown into the mix… things just got more complicated.

Reaching out for Kuroo, you squeezed his hand. “You will be safe with me. I promise you this.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

You glanced at the iPhone between you two. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kuroo, but now that you know he’d do pretty much anything for money, you couldn’t risk it. It wasn’t just Atsumu’s reputation you were worried about – firstly, Rintaro would kill him if he found out it was all his doing. Second, that poor actress. She rose to fame in her career recently; this would ruin her image. If things took the wrong turn, who was to stop the Queen from forcing the two to get married if that tape was leaked? You couldn’t risk any cracks in your plan.

“Kuroo, may I have that phone?”

“It’s all yours if you throw in another five grand, Princess.”

“Consider it mine then.”

You and Kuroo left immediately after everything was settled. Just as promised, you would cover all his travel expenses. He would stay overseas to ensure his protection while he reached out to his connections to get all the information he needed, and once the article was ready, he’d publish it and disappear from the media. You covered that too – he was paid enough to live comfortably while in hiding. Now, you only needed to wait for everything to go according to plan.

First, the downfall of Iris. Next, her separation with Kiyoomi without having to let Rin ascend to the throne. And once she’s finally out of the picture, you’ll move on to your beloved husband. You’ll seduce him, have him fall completely to your whim, make him realize he could never have anyone like you again – and once he’s wrapped around your finger, you’ll plea for divorce.

A heart for a heart. A marriage for a marriage.

And if the odds play into your favor at the end of it all, there’s only one destination in mind: Kiyoomi’s farmhouse in Itachiyama.

You smiled to yourself – it would work out. You had a good feeling about it. Kiyoomi is supporting you and acting as your spy, Kita is backing you up on the grounds for divorce, and the nation has unwaveringly showed their support for you in these trying times. After all, you were just the poor, neglected wife. They expected you to spend your days crying and chasing after your deceitful husband, or to simply take it all – be silent and smile for the cameras.

Fuck what the Queen said. You won’t let her win.

Driving back to the Palace, you glanced at the time. It’s almost four in the morning, and soon, Her Majesty would be beginning her routine and expecting her daily calls from the Princes. Pressing harder on the gas, you sped up until a glint catches your eye. You glance at the rearview mirror, eyes widening at the fast approaching car from behind – a sleek, black car with the royal family’s crest on it. Shit. But – it couldn’t be the royal guards. You’d made sure no one would see you, and Airi had gotten your note to slip some sleeping pills into Rintaro’s tea so you could sneak out. Kiyoomi was informed of your plans, too, and he’d reassured he’d hold the fort down while you dealt with Kuroo.

Unless Iris had snooped through his phone and found everything out, then –

You wasted no time. You drove faster, reaching for the gun in your glove compartment as the roaring of the car behind you moved in closer and closer. Heart pounding in your chest, you speed-dialed Kiyoomi, praying to any God who was listening that he would pick up. It couldn’t be Iris, it shouldn’t be her. God forbid she does anything to provoke you into pulling the trigger.

Infidelity was one thing, but the murder of a royal family member was not something one could merely frown at. You didn’t want to be thrown into jail.

The call did not push through.

“Fuck!” you slammed your feet on the gas, watching as the car sped up even more until it was now next to you. You were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but the mammoth of trees and a never ending road with darkness clouding the path. Just then, the windows rolled down, and you waited with bated breath as the face finally came into view.

Dark hair was the first thing you saw. The windows rolled down, down, down, until you were staring deep into your husband’s eyes. Brow cocked, he smirked, raising the phone to show he’d been calling you – that’s why you couldn’t call Kiyoomi. Suna was interrupting the line. Shit, how was he even awake right now?

Moreover, how did he find you?

You scowled to yourself. There was no outrunning him now. Suna was a ridiculously good driver, and there was no way you would ever use a gun on him. Steeling yourself, you forced yourself to regulate your breathing – your efforts boon when Suna suddenly pressed on forward until he was a feet away from you, maneuvered his car with the hood facing your direction, and then just – stopped.

Bracing your hands on the wheel, you forced all your energy to release its power on the slamming of your brakes. The skidding of your car squeaked for what seemed like minutes until finally – finally – your came to a halt. You were breathing hard, the back of your head aching from the impact of it crashing to the headrest. Meanwhile, Suna opened his car doors in slow, languid movements, the ends of his leather black trench coat hitting the pavement. With nothing but the headlights of his car illuminating him, he looked more like an omen of death than a Prince – dressed in a white turtleneck, black pants, and a long coat that highlighted his tall figure. He looked ominous, like he carried sorrow and pain with him – pain that he was about to make you feel.

Because you knew – of course you knew; you knew him better than anyone – that the placid smile he wore was anything but.

He slammed the car doors shut. Leaning against the hood, Suna’s gloved hands reached for a lighter in his pocket as he lit his cigarette, the stick hanging from between his lips. As soon as it flickered, he pocketed the lighter back, using two of his fingers to make a ‘come hither’ gesture at you.

Clearly, you spoke too early. The odds were not in your favor.

You exited your vehicle, hands gripping the edges of the door as you gathered to courage to take one more step towards him. It wasn’t that you were afraid – he wouldn’t hurt you, not really. But too much could be taken away from you in such little time – Kuroo couldn’t have gone far, and Atsumu’s sex tape was still in the backseat. You didn’t trust Rintaro to not ruin your plans. And you wouldn’t let him, not now when you were so close to victory.

One step, two steps, three steps – your heels clicked against the road as you walked, making sure to keep your chin pointed north. Hips swaying to the side, you finally ended up before him – right between his spread legs – your husband leaning back at the hood of his car whilst he sized you up, his free hand resting behind him.

“Funny seeing you here,” he drawled out, his voice thick with barely-held back rage. “They told me you were sleeping, but last time I checked, driving while falling asleep was illegal.”

“Cheating is also illegal.”

“Your comebacks are getting old, my love.”

Your head snapped to his direction. He hadn’t called you that in forever, not since you’d returned from your honeymoon. To have him call you that now, with such a deeply rich, smooth voice and sounding like he’d just woken up, all breathy and rasp – could it be possible to fuck someone to death?

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” tipping his head to the side, Suna’s lips slowly formed into a smirk. He took a drag of his cigarette, keeping his eyes on yours as he wrapped those lips around the stick – delicately and tantalizingly slow – just like how he did when he worshipped you in bed. You breathed out hard and attempted to take a step back, but he was having none of it. Swiftly, he’d tugged on your shirt to pull you close to him, causing you to stumble and fall into his lap. Above you, your husband’s chest rumbled with amusement.

“Look at you. Always so weak for me.”

He leaned in close, his scent of smoke and expensive woodsy perfume enveloping you. It’s addicting, just as he is, and your knees grew weak. Your legs slid down just as Suna wraps a strong arm around your waist to hitch you back in place, your core resting above his thigh. There, he spreads you open with just his knees, his warm lips suddenly attaching themselves to your neck. You gasped out, hands falling to his shoulders in a measly attempt to pull him away – and oh.

Suna had different plans in mind.

“You,” he breathed in your ear, his gloved fingers popping the button of your blouse one by one. “cannot get rid of me that easily, Your Highness. You can slip in as many drugs you want in my drinks, you can kill me a hundred times and fuck me over again and again, but don’t you dare forget,” growling lowly in your ear, your husband took your chin in his hands and forced you to gaze deep into his eyes – pools of hazel swirling with need and wrath – “Not even death can do us part. I’ll keep on looking for you even if you try to hide at the ends of the earth.”

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna x you #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader smut #kiyoomi smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #kiyoomi x you smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #suna x reader angst #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #rintaro suna x reader #suna rintaro x you

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petrikovcenttral · 7 months

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I love how this is supposed to be a man

#fionna and cake #simon petrikov #au #crown garden au #adventure time #digital art #art #silly

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cupids-chamber · 5 months

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— THE CONCUBINE GAME !! | chapter one . . . The first chapter, where you'll be able to catch a climpse of the inner dynamics between the emperor's y/n's secretary and their personal guard, a small entry and brief taste of what's to come, while learning a bit more about our beloved emperor and their staff . . .

— Themes ; Harem / historical au , Twisted wonderland , multiple characters x reader , royalty au , includes rsa + yuuka/yuuken. ♡

The wind was howling, the pitter patter sound of rain could be heard throughout the grand walls of the palace. The sound of heels clicking urgently on the wooden floors, echoing through the empty halls, as Yuuken rushed his way through to the emperor's chambers. It was late, yet he’d been overworked all week preparing the palace for the arrival of certain selected members of the Royal Harem, some were particularly demanding with the way they wanted things sorted out and Yuuken prided himself on never failing to impress.

He banged on the door rather aggressively, “Your majesty, I have certain design plans I need you to finalize before Prince Leona’s arrival, and the first few concubines enter the palace, we don’t have much time!”, he yelled out trying to get the emperor’s attention, it was already late into the night and the palace staff were working overtime meeting every demand that they were given.

Yuuken flinched feeling something touch his shoulder, and right before he could move back and attack, he heard an all too familiar voice—”Don’t bother trying to get their attention, Y/n’s at a meeting”—Yuuka spoke, a small grin on her face while she watched Yuuken try and collect himself, “This late?”, he asked confused, “also please try and address them by proper titles in public”; Yuuka shrugged in response, pausing for a moment before she spoke up once more, “I’d like to keep things the way it is, and you should probably take a break because they’re not coming out of the room at all, it’s something about politics . . . I wasn’t really paying attention”.

Yuuken sighed, slumping his shoulders as he leaned onto the door of the Emperor's chamber, “I-i . . just want everything to be perfect, everything’s been so . . hectic for their majes—y/n and I just really want to provide some stability, you know?”, he said softly, letting his exhaustion take over for a moment and Yuuka’s expression softened, “Hey—you’re doing great, there's a reason y/n gave you full creative liberty”, she ruffled his hair giving him a genuine smile, “don’t push yourself too hard alright? None of us are expecting you to be perfect, not even y/n . .” she finished, as Yuuken closed his eyes and whispered a small, “I know . . .”

Setting: Meeting room Location: The west wing. Time: 11:36pm

You fiddle with your fingers, trying to shift the jewelry that you were covered in, in an attempt to feel more comfortable with the weight that the jewels provided, holding you down . . , as another argument ensues between the nobles, these past few days have felt like a choir, in fact most of the months since you ascended have felt terrible, nothings been exciting—from inheriting an empire doomed to fail, to trying to pick up the scraps of what was left of your fathers reckless decisions and fixing it into something at least palatable, the pressure of everything has left you in a bottomless pit, you needed freedom a refreshing start—something you lost—when you inherited the throne . . .

“—Ah, your majesty?”, one of the nobles spoke up, and you bit your lip, how you hated that title, the moment you inherited this role, your friendships haven’t quite been the same, everyone who you’ve trusted in the past, have now become just another subject, trust is no longer something you earn, as loyalty and trust is to be expected when the crown is on your head.

Setting: Inner Cold Palace Garden Location: Rundown Gazebo Time: 12:46am

"—and they never thanked me'', Yuuken hiccuped out, words slurring due to his alcohol intake, he waved the half finished bottle of some form of expensive imported wine in his hands, swinging it around dramatically; Yuuka chuckled, taking a sip from her glass as she looked around at the scenery of the garden—it used to be much prettier and well taken care of, way back before the previous emperor—y/n’s father—went haywire. . .

"Hey Yuuken, remember when we used to play together here?" she asked without thinking, meeting his eyes for a brief moment all the while Yuuken took another big gulp from his wine bottle . . and then he spoke, "Yeah—you and y/n pushed me into the lake, I still hate the water", he slurred over his words slightly and Yuuka chuckled in response, if only things could've stayed as simple, but now Y/n didn't even have the time to maintain the garden where they're friendship once first blossomed, Yuuka sighed, leaning her head down on the table—which had seen better days— . . the same could be said about their relationship with y/n themselves . .

Masterlist | Introductions (being reworked) | Next chapter

♡. Synposis ; After many months of persuading, the emperor, Y/N L/N had finally agreed to take in a select few concubines and consorts—not an official partner.. but concubines. This caused an uproar in court; however the emperor promised to choose an official partner; amongst the crowd of concubines and consorts.. Who will the emperor choose?

— taglist ♡ (open) : . . tumblr is not letting me mention over 5 people per post, and the staff won't do anything about it, so I recommend just joining my server and picking out the new chapter ping role as it makes things easier for me.

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upsidedownwithsteve · 7 months

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A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [5.9K]

THE TIMELINE

"Oh no, you know you know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying, For someone I could die for, someone I could try for Fall apart and cry for, go 'head, risk my life for."

-Someone I Could Die For by Lewis Capaldi

II. ROME, ITALY: 49 BC

The roar that came from the bowels of the Colosseum never became easier to hear.

The noise seemed to make the city shake, the streets empty, the market stalls abandoned in favour of bloodshed. The games took place in the summer, when the skies were an endless blue and there were no clouds to tamper down the climbing heat. The sun bore down on the sandy pit of the enormous Amphitheatre and the seats were filled, the doors that had already been closed still surrounded by regretful stragglers who were forced to listen to the chaos from outside of the walls.

Fourteen men had died already, three from the jaws of the lions, two from the bears and eleven from the swords of other imprisoned slaves. The cheering from the crowd made your stomach curl. The floor of the stage was covered in red, the sand streaked with spilled blood and the animals that were bullied back into their cages had their jaws tinted pink.

It wasn’t a joyous occasion, no matter how many people celebrated in the name of their emperor. The leader of Rome was sitting mere seats away from you, dressed in ruby robes that were slung like a cloak over his white toga and his laurel crown glinted with golden beads that sat tucked into the olive wreaths. He was drunk on wine and violence, and your father sat next to him in the royal box, ever eager to please as he clinked his chalice against his kings.

Being the daughter of Rome’s most beloved senator certainly had its positives. You were dressed just as finely as the royalty around you, the fabric that was made to fit your frame swept to the floor and only yesterday, the emperor’s cousin had gifted you a necklace made of the finest gold, inset with glittering emeralds, pretty enough for a princess.

The same cousin smiled at you from across the row, each seat in the royal box made from plush velvet, the high backs ornate and cushioned, unlike the stone carved benches the rest of the civilians were sitting on. You smile back, uneasy but polite, and your father nodded approvingly.

You were expected to marry, you knew that much. You were already considered too old to be unwed and you knew the rest of the court whispered about how you would now struggle to bear a child. But the man that was expected to be your husband wasn’t who you loved. He wasn’t unkind, he wasn’t cruel - not like you’d heard men could be. The girls in the kitchen would tell you stories of how their husband made demands. Shouting each night for their meals, their baths, how their shirts weren’t stitched right, how their beds would lay cold because their wives were too tired.

Some men visited the bath houses, you knew that much. Seeking out a lupa for the night, the ladies that were called she-wolves, with their painted lips and robes that showed so much skin. Some men decided that they didn’t need to listen to their wives at all, you were once told, horror etched on your face. Some men took what they thought they owned.

So no, the emperor’s cousin seemed kind enough. But you weren’t in love with him. You weren’t sure who you were in love with. A dream, perhaps. One that kept returning to you from a young, young age. A dream about a different town, one you’d never been to before. But in your sleep, it felt like home. White buildings and green gardens with tall, tall trees and pretty, ornate gazebos made of stone on the edges of shallow ponds. You were by the sea there, a blue-green ocean that seemed so calm.

Sometimes monsters came, the marble statues that guarded the city came to life and turned your dream into a nightmare. There was always fire and fury, storm clouds and too big waves and a man with skin the colour of death would try and take your hand. But even when the dream turned bad, there was always someone else.

A man, with a blurry face and a mess of almost too long hair. It hid his eyes from you and you could never make out too many details but you burned when you looked at him, you could weep when he touched you. Sometimes he led you through the burning town, his hand clasping your own as you both tried to run and run and run.

Other times, you lay in a bed with him, skin bare and your head on his chest as he murmured the sweetest poetry to you, words that made your heart race. Your dream was encased in white linen sheets, a hazy, soft light that always made it look like early morning and when the man’s lips met yours, you always woke up.

Him. You loved him.

You hadn’t been in love before, but whenever you dreamed of the stranger, you were sure that must have been what love felt like.

��Have some grapes, darling,” your thoughts were interrupted by your father as he thrust a plate of fruit and cheese under your nose.

But the fifteenth gladiator was being dragged through the gates by the armpits, a clawed hammer still sticking out from his chest and your insides turned over at the idea of eating such sweet treats as blood poured from the men in front of you. The emperor’s box was almost nauseatingly close to the fights.

You shook your head before you remembered your manners, smiling politely and murmuring, “I’m quite alright, thank you.” You blew out a breath, shaky and faint.

From your other side, one of the young girls who had been gifted to you on your sixteenth birthday waved a giant fan. A large peacock feather, a huge plume of colours that merely wafted the too warm air back and forth but you smiled your thanks at your lady in waiting, a pretty girl who’d turned into a prettier young woman. She was small and lithe, angular in the face with curls that came to her sharp jawbone and she smiled back.

Nancy, as she’d introduced herself to you a week after she’d arrived at your fathers house, from the Wheeler family of Liguria. She didn’t like the gladiator fights anymore than you did, always murmuring about the rights of the animals and how inhumane it was later in the night as she drew you your bath.

“—from Verona,” your father was saying with a mouth full of provolone. “One of their best, so they say, His Majesty simply had to have him.”

You blinked, frowning in confusion at your fathers words. You hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest and nothing you’d caught made any sense. “Sorry?” You grimaced apologetically and took a few pomegranate seeds from the plate of food in apology for your rudeness. “Who is from Verona?”

Your father rolled his eyes, a sure sign that you’d be lectured in his study later for your lack of respect. “The next gladiator, child.” He gestured to the stage where the soldiers were locking the gates to the tigers, each big cat growling with menace when the men came too close to the bars. “They say he’s unbeatable. Our Highness offered a more than generous helping of coin for his papers but Verona’s general didn’t seem to want to part with him.”

You frowned again. The crowd seemed to be aware of this man and his presence, murmuring and shifting in their seats in anticipation. “If that is the case,” you prodded. “Then how is he here? If the gladiators… owner—” the word left a terribly bitter taste in your mouth and you felt heavy with guilt when Nancy’s fan brushed your shoulder. “If his owner didn’t want to sell him?”

Your father snorted, an unattractive sound that made Nancy wince beside you. “No one tells the emperor of Rome ‘no’, dearest.” Your father shrugged. “The gladiator cannot be owned, if his owner is dead.”

Bloodshed. Always bloodshed.

A man came from the east side gates with chains around his ankles and wrists. You couldn’t quite see him for your seat, not yet, but the crowd above and around you roared, eager for the final fight to begin. The man already looked beaten and tired as soldiers stepped forward to unlock his manacles and you sat forward in your seat for the first time since you entered the Colosseum that day.

He had messy hair, dark brown and hanging just past his chin. It was already damp looking, matted and dirty from being kept god knows where as the emperor's new toy. He was shirtless, his body lean but corded with muscle. He had wide shoulders and a lithe waist, powerful thighs and skin that was tanned from the sun, a sure sign he spent too much time outside, training hard in the Italian heat.

As he moved closer to the middle of the stage, you saw the marks on his body, leftover scars and new slices in his flesh that still looked viciously red. The crowd got louder as a sword was thrown at his feet, a large, heavy looking thing with a bronze handle. Some cheered for the new warrior, hoping for some excitement, while others jeered and booed, already too attached to their darling reigning champion.

The gladiator picked up his sword and the crowd became wilder still, but he gave them no mind. He didn’t put on a show like some of the others, he didn’t flex his muscles or raise his weapon like it was already a prize. His leather loincloth was a deep wine colour, the tan leather pleats looking far from newly made and the material was already streaked with blood and dirt before his first opponent arrived.

Your heart felt heavy for him, as it did for all the others who were forced into the Colosseum - prisoners, slaves and animals alike. You watched the gladiator flex his wrist, testing the weight of his weapon just as the gates in the west cranked open.

Rome’s current champion strode out from the shadows and into the bright sun, his bare chest glinting with sweat and Hargrove held his hands aloft, grinning as the crowds went insane. He beat his chest, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and when he was handed his own sword, he wasted no time in running towards the new fighter, the steel blade glinting.

You gasped, moving closer still to the edge of your seat and you couldn’t find it in you to bear much mind to the looks your father and Nancy shot you. It wasn’t like you to take such an interest in the sport, never mind be so heavily invested. You didn’t like to watch the wounded, preferring to close your eyes when the screams began, hiding cowardly behind Nancy’s fan when the blood turned the sandy stage pink and red.

But this new gladiator, he was fast.

He dove at the last second, dodging the tip of Hargrove’s blade and he rolled towards the section where you sat. Dust kicked up from the move, his sword tearing into the wreaths and sashes that hung from the Emperor’s box. You grasped the edge of the wooden frame, peering over the side and down to the stage, hoping to not see blood already.

Instead you found the gladiator looking back up at you, his sword still in his grasp and when his eyes met yours, they widened. Something like recognition hurtled through you, a feeling that sucked the breath from your lungs and you felt dizzy, like lightning itself had struck you from the sky. You thought the man perhaps felt the same, a frown on his face telling you that he felt just as confused as you did.

But before you could consider where on earth you could have possibly seen his face before, Hargrove attacked again, bringing his blade down to where the gladiator's shoulder should have been, if he hadn’t rolled once again.

You were on your feet now, the stares of your father be damned. Your eyes were wide, your heart beating far too fast, like you yourself were on the stage, being hunted for sport. Wood splintered into the space under your nails as you watched the man run, his muscles pumping, his eyes narrowed.

“Darling, are you quite alright?” Your father placed a hand on your arm, more confused than concerned.

“Yes, I just— yes.” You cleared your throat and sat down again, albeit back to the edge of your chair. You could feel the rest of the royal party staring at you. “Where did you say the man was brought from? The new gladiator?”

“Harrington?” One of the Emperor’s councilmen interjected. He pointed a pudgy finger at the brown haired gladiator, who was now swinging his sword with as much power as Hargrove. “Steven Harrington of Verona, best of his breed I heard. His general didn’t take too kindly to the King’s offering and well— you know what happens when his Highness is made to feel upset.”

The metallic clink of the swords filled the arena as everyone held their breaths. Not many had lasted this long against Hargrove before.

“Rumour has it that he didn’t take too kindly to his general being beheaded. Took six men to get him into the back of the cart, even more to make him train. He’s been refusing food all week.”

The idea of it made you feel unwell, a sickly, creeping kind of pain curling around each of your ribs and suddenly you were starving, just as much as you were sure the man would be. But still, I didn’t seem to make him move any slower, it didn’t hinder him in bringing his sword down any harder.

But strangely, every time the new gladiator was struck, every time his knees hit the raw sand, every time he got close enough for you to see him suck in a gasping breath— you felt it too.

It was a battle like you’d never seen before, more vicious than the others from that day, a showdown under the blazing heat of the high sun. No tiger seemed as powerful as Steven Harrington of Verona did. There was something animalistic in the way he moved, all power and lean muscle, a steely glint in his brown eyes that you didn’t dare look away from. He moved too quickly for Hargrove’s blade, dodging and diving as he flung up sand, blinding his opponent and slicing at his legs. Each move was a blur, the stage bleeding with fresh red, the blonde gladiator on his knees.

But Hargrove was ruthless, grappling with the newcomer until they were both wrestling in the dust cloud and the crowd went insane, people chanted and stomped their feet, the amphitheatre shaking down to its very bones. The imperial box quaked with the energy, but truly, you weren’t present enough to feel it.

Your eyes never left Steven’s fighting figure.

The swords seemed to be forgotten, the steel blades rusted with blood, both fresh and new, and they lay in the sand. Fists flew, knees pressed to chests to keep the other down and it was brutal, it was harsh, it was deadly.

You wanted to vomit. You feared you might.

You wondered what would happen if you leapt from your chair, if you let your skirts get torn and bloodied in the mess of the stage, if you threw yourself down onto the sand and begged for Hargrove to take his hands away from the new gladiator's throat.

Would you be punished? Beaten? Locked away? Killed?

You weren’t sure but somehow, all the options felt worth it. You couldn’t watch this man die before you. Not when it felt like you’d already witnessed his death before.

But Steven wrestled himself out of Hargrove’s hold, twisting and tumbling whilst he gasped, one hand clutching at his reddened neck and the other grappling for his blade. He swung it through the air, arching wide, his wounded shoulder ripping with effort it took but the sword landed where the warrior intended it to.

Silence settled over the colosseum, the air still enough for you to hear the surviving champion heave out gasping, heavy breaths. There was blood on his hands, his chest, his face.

His right eye was already bruising, red and lilac coming to the surface of his skin like fresh blooms in spring. His shoulder was a mess, his right leg causing him to buckle slightly as he rose to his feet.

The man turned, jaw slack, his sword falling limply to the ground once more, his opponent still and at his feet. His eyes found yours and time stilled, at least, to you. The crowd erupted, an explosion in its own right, the entirety of Rome cheering for their new champion.

A man you were sure you already loved.

By the time the fight had ended, you felt beaten and bruised. There were no marks on your skin, no blood seeping through your gown, but something inside of you hurt all the same. It felt like something was clawing at your heart, a memory that was banging on the front of your skull, screaming at you to remember.

When the guards dragged the gladiator from Hargrove’s limp figure, he dropped his sword to the sand and spat a mouthful of blood towards the ground at the royal pit. The Emperor merely chuckled as others around you gasped and before you could even hear your fathers protests, you were on your feet.

Steven Harrington was shackled once more, the metal chains clinking around his hands and feet. And as he was led away back into the arches, the gears of gates making an awful protesting noise, his eyes found yours once more.

A burning gaze, too intense to look away from and you could’ve sworn on the gods, on the stars above, that something inside of you tugged sharply. Like the pull of a string, tied in a bow between your ribcage, urging you forward.

Telling you to go.

So you did.

You gathered your skirts in your hands and made your way to the exit of the box, too focused to hear your fathers objections until the guards at the doorway halted you with their spears. The wooden stalks crossed themselves over your chest and you froze, the string tied to your heart pulling tighter and tighter and tighter—

The Emperor was staring at you, with cold eyes and a smile that wasn’t really a smile. He spoke to your father, not you. “Where, my dear senator, is your lovely daughter running off to?” The king turned back to you, brows raised. “Doesn’t she know that more wine will be served soon? My cousin is looking forward to her company.”

Your father stared at you, a stricken expression on his aged face because everyone in the royal box could read between the lines of the Emperor.

You cleared your throat, eyes still trained on the sharp metal points of the spears that were very much in your face. “Forgive me, father - your highness - I was merely hoping to get some fresh air.”

“The sight of all that blood makes her rather delicate,” your father agreed and the crowd of councilmen, generals and their wives tittered in their jewels. “She isn’t one for conflict.”

The Emperor stared at the side of your face, something you could feel despite bowing your head in his presence. You stared at the floor and waited, heart racing.

The royal tsked. “What a pity,” he declared but he waved a hand, each finger heavy with golden rings, and his soldiers stepped aside. “Be back in time for the parade, child, you have company to entertain.”

The Emperor’s cousin leered at you, his wine glass empty, his lips stained ruby but none of it mattered right now, not when you were taking off once more, skirts dragging across the dust and sand, your chest heaving as you tried to navigate your way through the crowd that was already dispersing.

More guards, heavily armoured and with their swords drawn, were too preoccupied with a fight that had broken out between the arches, two lower class men arguing over a coin they found on the ground. Taking your chance, you moved with your head down, your face hidden as you slipped through a door that was normally carefully watched.

The heavy wood slammed shut behind you, the sunlight swallowed whole. Burning torches lit the narrow corridor, a maze of them leading you underneath the Colosseum. The hypogeum was almost damp as you tried to navigate its many walkways, a gasp leaving your throat as you took a wrong turn and ended up face to face with the iron bars that separated you from the animals.

A huge tiger growled at you, bloodied teeth bared in a snarl, the stench of raw meat and faeces hanging in the cool air. You backed away, eyes flickering from cage to cage, each one filled with another poor creature. Lions, bears, a rhinoceros and its offspring, and beyond them, an even larger cell holding prisoners. They all stared at you, men and animals alike, but nothing was spoken.

You backed away, unable to breath, turning on your heel and walking quickly enough to spot the familiar grey robes of the healers used after the battles. You followed, your steps light, and watched him enter a small room. Between the door opening and closing, you spotted the gladiator perched on a wooden table, his head bent low and his face hidden behind his damp hair.

You weren’t sure what possessed you, but before you barged into the room too, both men staring at you from the table where the healer held a ragged cloth to the gladiator’s shoulder.

“Miss, you have no need here,” the healer announced, his voice strict and cold. He narrowed his eyes as he gestured to the door. “This is no place for—”

“My father sent me.” It was a lie, of course. A bold and bare faced one at that. But you stood a little taller and lifted your chin, the emerald necklace at your throat shining in the low light that came from the small fireplace in the corner. “The senate has questions I’ve been asked to deliver. I shall not leave without the appropriate answers.”

On the mantle, beside bottles of acids and other medicinal vials, sat a small statue of the goddess Veratis. Her marble eyes seemed to judge you and your lies and you swallowed down the bitter taste it left on your tongue. But looking at the man - this stranger from Verona - the need to speak to him, to be alone with him, was overwhelming you to the point of senselessness.

The trouble you could be in if you were to be caught in your lie… or worse, down in the hypogeum. This was no place for a woman of your standing, never mind to be alone with a gladiator, both of you unspoken for. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.

“If we may have some time alone?” You added with more authority than you should have held. “Unless you’d prefer that my father leave the Emperor’s side to ensure his orders are fulfilled?”

The healer sighed but placed down his tools. He flashed you a smile that was all crooked teeth, more bite than kindness, but he made his way to the door. “That won’t be necessary, My Lady,” he told you and he left, closing the wooden door behind him.

The silence was a deafening thing. The crackle of the fire was still there, the distant roar of some poor, wounded animal, but whatever was held between the two of you took on a life of its own. It seemed to suck the rest of the world into it until there was nothing left but you and this man. He was staring at you still, brown eyes wide and so familiar, looking as confused as you felt as you stared right back.

It felt too easy to take a step forward, but the warrior flinched. Your next was slower, softer, more cautious. Your hand found the rag that the healer had once held, what little water it had been soaked in was cold, the material harsh. It didn’t take you long to find a new cloth in one of the drawers of the apothecary table and you took your time to warm some fresh water over the hearth.

Honestly, you didn’t know too much about medicine, only the basics that your father’s head servant had taught you as a young child. You found the small bottle of alcohol with ease, plucking it from the shelf and adding it to the warm water before soaking the new rag.

You held it up in offering to the man, still far enough from you that his dirty hair hid most of his face. His tanned chest was streaked with sweat and dust, marred with old cuts and fresher wounds from Hargrove’s weapon, but for the most part, he seemed okay.

“Can I?”

The gladiator lifted his head then, his hair falling away from his cheeks and you took in a sharp breath at the sight of his face. He was handsome, painstakingly so, but over and above all else, he was someone you were sure you knew.

The man nodded, just once, lips pressed together and as you came closer, his nostrils flared and his large hands gripped the edge of the table. His eyes raced across your features, recognition coming to the surface and before he could ask the questions that were clawing at his throat, you lifted the cloth and pressed it to the cut on his shoulder.

He hissed, teeth bared and you frowned, hushing him softly, apologies murmured just as quiet. “I’m sorry,” you told him and gods, he knew you meant it. “I need the alcohol to soak the wound.”

Your heart stuttered when he let you, shoulders tight and back ramrod straight, but his eyes were on your face the entire time you worked. “You’re not a healer,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

His voice rung through you, a deep timber that was hoarse and scratchy, no doubt from refusing to speak since his capture. You hoped he’d been drinking enough water.

You shook your head as you pulled away, dipping the bloodied cloth back into the bucket. “No, I’m not,” you confirmed.

Another swipe at his skin had him jerking in response but the blood and dirt was finally clear of the cut. It would need stitches, you were almost sure of it, but your skills started and finished at the basics.

“Then why are you here?” The gladiator’s eyes were trained on your necklace, a sure fire way to recognise nobility and you were overcome with the urge to rip it from your throat. “Why did you follow me?” He spoke like he already knew the answer.

You were hesitant about it, but you couldn’t stop your hand from lifting to his neck, fingertips brushing two beauty marks on his skin. They felt electric under your touch and you were impossibly warmer now, despite the old cell lacking the heat from the summer above.

“I feel like I know you,” you whispered. Your voice cracked with an emotion you didn’t quite know the name of. “I feel like I’ve mourned you.”

The gladiator looked back at you from behind his damp hair, the long strands matted with his and his enemies blood. He didn’t look as concerned as he should have been at your strange words. In fact, he leaned into your touch, lashes fluttering at the sensation.

“What an odd thing to say to someone who hasn’t died,” he answered quietly. But his gaze roamed over your features and something about being so close to him felt cosmic, it felt like a catastrophe waiting to happen. “I think I’ve met you before,” the gladiator whispered. He sounded reverent now, his own hand shaking as he brought it to your face.

He cupped your jaw, your chin, his rough fingertips trailing over your soft skin and when his thumb dragged across your bottom lip, you gasped and pressed closer.

“I think I meet you when I sleep,” he said and he frowned at his own words, at how confusing he must’ve sounded. “Every night, when I close my eyes. You’re in a garden and then you’re in my arms.”

Flashes of a bed came to mind, white linen sheets and too much bare skin. A man’s chest, tanned and muscled from hard labour, your hands that roamed the expanse of his back. You remembered how he kissed you in your dreams, with a longing so intense it could waken the gods.

Like he had enough love for you that he could end the world.

You could only nod. His thumb was still pushed to your bottom lip, your mouth parted as if you were waiting and his stare was so intense you felt warmer than you had in the stadium above.

Who was this stranger?

And why did it feel like something inside of you was being stitched back together by the sheer sight of him? His touch felt healing, it felt like home. Like it was only made for you to feel. Like he was made only for you.

Above, something boomed. Loud enough to be heard underneath the hypogeum, over the roars of the unsettled animals. If you had been outside, you would’ve witnessed the blue sky turning grey, shades of moody lavender and navy, storm clouds rolling across Rome from seemingly nowhere.

Thunder rumbled, threatening noise, something that made you and the man move closer to each other, like you both knew you were in danger.

That you knew something bad was coming.

“I don’t understand,” you said, eyes blurring. You weren’t sure why you were crying but Steve didn’t seem to question it. He merely swiped away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. “You’re a stranger— we’ve never— we’ve never met.”

Despite your words, the gladiator moved closer, standing from his seat on the wooden table to lean his forehead against your own. Your eyes slipped closed, nose bumping his. He smelled like metal, like blood and dirt and sweat but underneath there was something like fire there, like molten iron, like lavender fields and fresh cotton. Like a daydream, like something you weren’t sure was real.

His bottom lip touched your top one, only just, only barely. A whisper of a kiss, a small insight of something that could’ve been, of something that maybe once was.

Thunder rolled again, louder than before, as if it was right above you both. Even over the din of the crowds above, you could hear the heavy patter of rain that was now flooding the colosseum, the stage soaked. Another warning, something you’d seen before in a dream just before it turned to a nightmare.

“I was meant to find you,” Steve murmured. He had your face cradled in his hands, an overwhelmingly gentle touch despite the dried blood under his fingernails. His voice grew in urgency then, like he knew something was coming. Someone. “I was meant to come here. I can feel it. I understand now.”

“Someone once told me you’d come back,” you suddenly remembered, your voice eager, your eyes wide at the memory. “I don’t know— was it you? From before? From—”

From another life, you wanted to say.

How ridiculous those words were, how silly, how stupid. But there wasn’t any other way to explain. Logic didn’t seem to exist when everything you felt from this touch of this stranger led you to believe that somehow, someway, you’d spend a lifetime together.

Like you were supposed to spend this one with him too. And it didn’t seem long enough, decades wouldn’t make up for the time you’d lost searching for him, for this stranger who only came to you in your sleep. But he was very real now, solid flesh and bone underneath your own hands, brown eyes that seemed warmer than the Italian summer.

You didn’t want to let him go.

“In here, my King,” a voice interrupted. The door was open and the healer had returned, a cold look on his already stern face. The Emperor was behind him, ruby robes collecting dirt from the old floor. Four soldiers flanked him. “I have every reason to believe the Lady sold me lies, Your Highness.”

It happened too quick. Too fast.

The Emperor studied you, Steve’s hands still on your face as you stood too close, ready to kiss, ready to fulfil something neither of you were sure of. It felt catalytic.

“Seize him,” was all the Emperor said, one lazy flick of his wrist sending all four guards at you both.

There was too much movement in the tiny room, bottles of medicinal wares clattering to the ground and smashing at your feet. The table groaned as Steve was shoved into it, his own reactions too slow from his injuries. He grunted and reached for you too late, his hand slipping from your own, fingers barely touching, as he was shoved at from either side.

One soldier shoved the butt of his sword into Steve’s wounded soldier, the other bringing his armoured knee into his bare stomach. The gladiator doubled over, a gasp leaving his chest before he fell to his knees on the stone floor.

“Stop this!” You yelled, urging forward, trying your best to throw yourself into the mix of it all but someone’s arms - another soldier - caught your round the middle. “Unhand him! Your Highness - please - he hasn’t done any wrong, please—”

The Emperor just looked at you blankly before he picked at the jewels around your neck. He tutted, as if it were a shame, a waste. You could hear the shackles being placed back on the man, the low groan he gave as the metal was tightened around his sore wrists.

“He won,” you whispered, your voice low and choked. You were ready to beg. “Please, he won. He doesn’t deserve this—”

“I don’t like anyone else playing with my toys,” the Emperor interrupted. He said it like he was discussing what to have for lunch. “And my dear cousin doesn’t like anyone playing with his.” He motioned to the guards once more. “Take her back to her seat, where you make sure she stays. This isn’t any place for a Lady,” he told you mournfully.

You didn’t get to see what happened to the gladiator as you were escorted out of the room. But you did hear his yells when the door slammed shut, the dull thuds of impact that you were sure were on his already bruised and broken body. You hadn’t even told him your name, or that you dreamt of him too. That during your worst night terrors, he was the one that saved you.

When you reached the imperial box once more, your skirts dirtied from the sand, your face tear stricken, you felt broken. Like you’d been snapped in half, like someone had found that wound Steve had stitched up and pulled it apart again the seams. Like someone had ripped something important from you, half of your heart, perhaps.

You didn’t even notice that it had stopped raining. The skies were blue once more, the sun shining, the only evidence of the sudden storm were the drops of rain that had soaked into the pillow on your chair.

Steve was gone and the thunder was too.

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