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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 4 years ago

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Is there somewhere - BTS royal / bodyguard au Drabble part 4

So after this I was thinking of writing some prequels to the Drabble series before moving ahead with time and the challenges these lovely characters would face ongoing. Same with the CEO drabbles, as always let me know what you think {angst and fluff ahead}

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You hadn’t seen them for a month. You told yourself you were glad, that it didn’t hurt you that they gave up. You asked them to leave, you would stick by that, and this proved you right.

These things happened for a reason, you tell yourself, and while life was still a dense cloud hanging over you, it didn’t rain. Since that night trouble stopped following you, no one approached you in the clubs, the paparazzi stopped following you, you felt safe again, by yourself without any bodyguards.

“I haven’t seen you in so long Y/n,” your childhood friend sat across from you at a little quaint cafe in the town closest to your castle. You would have invited her to your place but the mess increased tenfold, that being said, you think your father must be sending people to clean while you were out. He hadn’t said anything about it, you were grateful he hadn’t, you weren’t ready to have that conversation with the King. He was always too busy for you, so this gesture came as a shock.

“I’ve missed you Y/n,” Sana says taking your hand in hers and squeezing it earnestly. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry I’m okay,” you say reassuringly.

“Y/n it’s a cloudy day and you’re wearing sunglasses,” you take by her sarcasm she doesn’t sound convinced.

“I’ve got a headache that’s all,” you bury your head behind the brunch menu, pretending to look over the options as she hums in response. It had been years but she still knew you well, and this was nothing like you were.

“Who hurt my friend?” She asks reading through your behaviour like she read the newspaper articles about it online, hence the impromptu visit from half a world away despite her own busy schedule.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s in the past,” and yet it’s still so present. The wound might be healing but it was leaving a red swollen scar in its place.

She lets the subject drop noticing how your shield goes up.

“Your bodyguard is really hot, if you wanted to invite him in to join us I wouldn’t mind,” she wiggles her eyebrows playfully, trying to lighten the mood but her words have the opposite effect on you.

“My what?” You breathe, you don’t have bodyguards. You turn to face where her eyes are set behind you and sure enough, outside the glass windows trying to look conspicuous is a man in a suit you’d recognise anywhere. You hate how your heart starts to ache as it beats faster, how there’s a hum of electricity starting to burn under your skin.

“Is that not your bodyguard? You used to talk about them so much, that’s....” she squints her eyes at the male, who bows his head in panic realising he’s been caught. “Jin! Right?”

Every time you FaceTimed Sana one of the boys would be with you, not on the screen unless it was Jin or Jimin but professionally standing out of the cameras range staying with you trying not to smile as you gushed about them with her, begging one of them to say hello. Yoongi and Taehyung were the only ones to ever give in. They would say hello shyly before standing at their post, Jin and Jimin on the other hand would sit on the bed or sofa with you. Jimin would make you blush and tease you while talking to Sana, Jin would tell her all your bad habits and complain about you playfully. Namjoon and Hobi never gave in, you were close to breaking Jungkook’s resolve before he left.

“I’ll be right back,” you say to her, rising from your seat to walk to the guilty looking male who’s ears have turned red. He says something in his sleeve and you realise the others must be close by or at least contactable. It all suddenly makes sense, you hadn’t seen them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. The house, your father was far too busy to burden himself with your mess, the sudden calm around you where normally there’d be a bustle of cameras and people.

“Princess,” he greets you bashfully, embarrassed for getting caught and complicating things. “Funny seeing you here, I was just waiting for a friend...”

“Liar,” you whisper, but it’s loud enough to shut him up.

“I can explain,” his cheeks are going red like his ears, you don’t know what you feel. There’s an emptiness that presents its self in his presence, like your body is trying to protect itself by going numb, even though your heart is begging you not to.

“I don’t want to hear it right now,” you close your eyes at the wave of sadness that overwhelms you. “I think you need to leave.”

You repeat your words from a month ago and it still cuts through him the same as it did then.

“I can’t...” he shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Jin you’re not my bodyguard anymore, this is harassment,” your cold eyes pierce through him but he stands strong against your onslaught.

“Actually...” he tries to chuckle but it dies as soon as it leaves his mouth. “Well you see, w-we- no your father... the king,” there’s a pause as he clears his throat and his hesitation irritates you.

“We’ve been reinstated as your bodyguards by order of the King,” a new voice behind you saves the stuttering man in front. You can’t help the fists form at your side as your mouth sets itself in a line. You turn to face Namjoon with a stern expression.

“No.” He knew you’d be stubborn, he knew it was a little underhanded of them, but after that day they couldn’t leave you like this. They would give you space, hope they could redeem themselves slowly, but they also had to keep you safe. They didn’t care you were next in line for the throne, they didn’t care their feelings for you were inappropriate in their line of work, you meant the world to them, you were their friend, and they couldn’t leave you again.

“I’m really sorry Princess, but the decisions been made,” he answers you sincerely. “We won’t get in your way, you won’t know we’re here, bu-”

“I said no,” your lips are tight, eyes enraged as you clench your jaw. He sighs, but he knows it would take time to heal the rift between you and the seven men.

You were right when you thought the rest of them were close behind, Yoongi and Jimin walk into your field of vision behind Namjoon, blazers buttoned, Jimin’s hair jelled back, Yoongi’s hand in his pocket. The sight takes you back and it knocks your confidence a little.

“Well that’s treason Princess,” Yoongi reasons with a small smirk forming on his face. “I guess that would get rid of us for you, being beheaded by the King.”

You shake your head is disbelief, a big sigh leaving your lips as you close your eyes to gather strength.

“I can’t do this right now,” you walk away back to your friend who’s eyes haven’t left the interaction. “I’ll deal with this later.”

——————————————————————————

You wonder what happened to their promise to stay out of sight and out of mind the following Saturday.

Maybe you walked through the bad part of town on purpose, maybe you wanted to piss them off or put yourself in danger, maybe you just wanted some control. A man that looks like trouble wolf whistles as you walk in his direction, and you smile like he’s your salvation. You don’t make it another two steps as a hand grabs your arm forcefully. You turn to find an angry Hoseok glaring at the man now cat calling you before turning his glare to you, nostrils flared like a bull about to charge.

You physically have to stop yourself from gulping at his aura, you know if pushed Hobi would cause harm to anyone that disrespected you. His grip on your arm tightens as the man doesn’t stop yelling profanities at you, he’s obviously intoxicated not that it excused his behaviour. Hobi hadn’t spoken a word, you can see him trying to ground himself and his anger, starting to lose his control, trying to regain his cool.

The guilt washes over you at his gaze, your smirk long gone as you struggle to keep eye contact. He hasn’t seen your face soften like this in so long, a glimpse of the old you coming back with concern.

“Hobi I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Let’s just go.”

His eyes are shut and he’s shaking with fury, at the man, at you, at himself.

“Hobi please,” you cup his cheek with your palm, stroking your thumb against his skin, feeling panic rising in yourself. The man is in front of you both now and you feel shame for making such a stupid decision. You press your forehead against his jaw as he stares daggers at the man.

“Your boyfriend giving you problems sexy?” He wears a shit eating grin as he speaks. “You looking for a bit of fun?”

Your touch calms your bodyguard enough to clear the haze of anger that threatens to attack the man where he stands. He releases a big breath before taking your wrist and walking you both away, pace unforgiving.

He still doesn’t say a word as you both get to the car, he pulls open the backseat door aggressively, looking at you expectedly. You don’t argue, you don’t scoff, you don’t walk away. Your eyes are round, looking up at him, begging for forgiveness. How the tables turn.

You get in without complaint, flinching as he slams the door shut. He gets into the drivers seat, putting his seat belt on before staring at you through the rear view mirror, jaw still clenched. You look lost, he hasn’t started the car and he hasn’t stopped staring at you.

“The seatbelt Y/n,” it’s a low growl and you quickly move to lock yours in place at his tone. Your heart is beating so fast you think it’s trying to escape. You don’t blame it, your hands are curled on your knees like a child ready to be scolded and you can’t look ahead as he pulls off.

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You didn’t say a word the whole journey, scared a single sound would set him off. His grip was unrelenting on the wheel, you don’t think he cooled down at all even though he made sure he wasn’t driving recklessly with you in the car.

He doesn’t take you back to the castle, he takes you to their place. They rarely used to be at home when they worked for you, the castle was large enough for them to stay and they had no reason not to. You hesitate to leave the vehicle when Hobi opens the door for you, he’s patient even through his fury. He holds a hand out for you to take like they used to.

You want to ask him what you’re doing here, why he’s brought you, but you decide to take his hand and let him lead you indoors.

“Princess?” It’s odd to see Jungkook in his normal clothes, to see any of them in their casual wear, it looks homely. They all stare between you and Hobi, looking confused as you both walked into the living room.

You were staring at the floor as he explained where you were when he was on duty, the others now looked at you in shock and disappointment. It was hard for you to hear too, like he was talking about someone else, another girl, you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

“Princess this really has to stop,” it’s Jimin that breaks the silence after Hobi’s speech. His usual sweet disposition was wiped away with worry. “I get it, we messed up, but you can’t keep doing this to yourself Y/n.”

You don’t raise your head to meet his words, you stay with your eyes down and feet cemented where you stood. There’s a finger under your chin but you move your head to the side to avoid it bringing your face up.

“We’re really sorry,” Taehyung whispers beside you.

They blamed themselves for everything you had been through since the moment they left, but how could they undo it, how could they make this okay? His words don’t comfort you, they hurt you, they bring up the night they left all over again. But you feel the sincerity in his words, how hoarse it sounds, filled with every desire to turn the clock back. It brings tears to your eyes, it makes you choke on the emotion rising in your throat. You want it to be okay too, but you couldn’t erase the abandonment they left you with.

There’s a hand rubbing your back soothingly as your bottom lip trembles and your shoulders shake trying to keep the sobs down.

“It’s okay,” the hand on your back moves to your hair, and Taehyung rests his lips on your temple as he speaks. “We hurt you Princess, shout at us, let it out, cry, just stop holding it in.”

If you did as he said it would make you vulnerable again, you’d be letting them in and you don’t know if you’re ready for that. But he wasn’t wrong, holding all the pain down without a healthy form of release was making that gaping hole in your chest erode the rest of you away.

“I’m-m s-so a-angry-” you struggle to get your words out, having to take a shallow breathe with each word as they came out in a sob and it physically hurt you to speak. “At all o-of you.”

Tae’s crying too, Jungkook’s behind you but you can hear him sniffle. You lean into the Taehyung, pushing your face into his neck as you close your eyes and break down, he doesn’t hesitate to bring his arms around you when you think you’re about to fall.

“You had each other,” you wail, not caring at how deranged you sounded. “I had no one, you left me when I was injured!” Your head drops to his chest as you bang your fist against Taehyung’s chest finally letting it all out, and he takes it without bracing himself for each hit. “I needed you and you guys broke me.

Who was I supposed to talk to? Do you know how ridiculous it sounds to the people of my world. My bodyguards abandoned me, so fucking what? Get new ones.”

You grip his top that’s stained with your tears, you’re so angry, so heartbroken and the only people that would listen and help where the ones to cause you this pain.

“But you weren’t just my guards, you were my friends and I thought you all felt the same.”

There’s a whisper of “we do” but you ignore it.

They’ve never seen you like this, not when Taeyeon revealed her true colours, not when Sana moved away, you had said goodbye to people before, it was a part of life but nothing compared to when they left you, and you knew why, you just didn’t want to admit to it out loud. You didn’t want their pity, the pathetic Princess who had no friends who fell in love with her knights in shining armour, the people who were employed to ensure your safety. Misplaced feelings because you had no one else, you could hear Namjoon’s lecture already. They had never see you that way, if they had they wouldn’t have left.

If only you knew the thoughts running through the rest of their brains, how could they tell you they were compromised, that they broke your trust by falling for you, that every protocol dictated to them in their training stated they couldn’t keep a charge safe if they had feelings for them, they had to resign. Looking back it was the worst decision they ever made, but at the time it seemed like the most appropriate.

You scoff through your tears, “if you felt the same you would’ve at least come to see me, but you didn’t, you would’ve at least called or texted but you blocked my number, I tried to contact you everyday for the first two weeks and it was like you all didn’t exist anymore.”

There’s a grasp softly pulling you out of Taehyung’s hold and he whines as you’re taken away. Namjoon’s eyes are red, he looks like he’s on the brink of tears himself, but he holds it together.

“We’re so sorry Y/n,” he could never stop saying it, even if he did earn your forgiveness it could never assuage the guilt that weighed on them. “We honestly thought it was the right thing to do, if we kne-”

“On what planet was that ever the right thing to do Joon?” You cut him off, you didn’t want excuses.

“We made a mistake, leaving you was a mistake but we made one before that,” you frown at his words, what mistake? He contemplates his words but there’s no way mince them, no way to make what he’s about to say any easier. He’s not trying to make excuses, he’s not trying to justify his behaviour he just wanted to be honest. “We fell in love with our charge, the biggest offence we could commit, the biggest threat to your safety was us.”

He watches your eyes go wide as tears streamed down your face, he waited for your disgust, your displeasure.

“We are so in love with you Princess, it killed us to leave you but you have to believe me when I say we thought it was for the best.”

You can’t breathe. He wants you to say something, he needs you to say something, anything. You just stare at him in disbelief until you find the words to speak.

“Are you so stupid?” You gasp, gaze flickering to all their faces, theyre holding their breaths. “Are you all so blind that you couldn’t see that I was in love with you too?”

It was Namjoon’s turn to stare at you in disbelief, their jaws dropped.

“How stupid could you be Namjoon! Did you even think for a seco-” your voice is muffled by his chest as he pulls you into him, and he finally lets himself cry. You were right he was so stupid, he always prided himself on his intellect but look at the mess he made. He holds you like he’d never let you go, tight like you’d disappear in his arms.

“I’m so sorry Y/n, I’m so sorry,” he whimpers and it breaks your heart, you’ve never heard the leader sound like this. You sigh deeply in his arms, warmth finally starting to fill the hole.

“It’ll be alright Joonie,” you hug him back and he’s so grateful for you in that moment. “We’ll work through it.”

You have to believe that you will. More arms wrap around you both, tears of relief, tears of hope mixed with apologetic whispers, words of comfort. You feel the warmest you have in months.

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hualianff · 4 years ago

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Thinking about a historical AU with prince XL and rogue merchant HC.

They’ve grown up knowing each other when XL would convince his caretaker to venture outside of the palace and HC was on the streets begging for or stealing food. XL was the only person who acknowledged HC’s pathetic existence during that time. He brought HC food from the palace and bought him trinkets from the vendors using XL’s own allowance money.

With HC’s survival and fighting skills, HC makes the decision to travel with a band of rogues to climb the social ranks and improve his quality of life wealth-wise. He’s only seventeen when he leaves for the first time.

He makes sure to tell XL before he goes.

While XL completes his duties as prince, HC is on the road making a name for himself. He loses his right eye early on due to an ambush where he was the only one to make it out alive. He’s very distinguishable with the eyepatch, but no less handsome, as XL claims.

Whenever they can, HC and XL meet up to share their stories and check in with each other. They fall in love during these times. HC promises to always come back for XL, and XL says he’ll always be waiting for HC to return home.

Except eight years later, when HC is on his way to the furthest kingdom he’s traveled to yet, equipped with a hefty amount of men and goods (XL’s letters kept in his pocket), HC catches wind of a siege on Xianle kingdom.

He immediately turns his caravan around to head back to his home—to XL.

HC is too late. Bodies litter the streets as well as the royal palace. Countless individuals are missing too, including the prince of Xianle. The queen, with her dying breaths, tells HC that they took her son, before falling against the king’s limp body, open wounds pooling blood on the plush carpet.

HC screams.

A split-second decision has HC hunting down the culprits who attacked the monarchy. It turns out to be a local group of rebels who had succeeded in gaining foreign aid, something HC was completely oblivious to; he hadn’t been around often to know of the trouble they caused, nor did XL mention anything in his letters.

The fortunate thing about working with the same people for the better half of the decade means HC has people he can trust and who can fight to fend for themselves.

Leaving his crew to deal with the remaining rebels, HC sprints to the prince’s chambers, where it looks like a tornado came by and wrecked everything in its sight. The bed, the drawers, the empty spaces where furniture should’ve been.

HC finds crumpled pieces of paper on the otherwise empty waste basket.

It’s a half-written letter addressed to “Beloved,” XL’s signature elegant penmanship stopping mid-character when he appears to have been interrupted.

HC clutches the piece of paper to his heart, tears gathering in his eyes, XL leaving nothing more than his jasmine scent.

HC ends up taking control of the palace, having enough men and connections within the kingdom to gain legitimate control, as none of the royal family members were present or alive to do so.

It takes months to clean up the aftermath of the attack, and another year to organize tasks for workers who have never set foot in the palace before and messengers to learn the routes around the town.

HC also has a team specifically assigned to search for the prince. There has been no report of XL’s body, so HC has reason to believe his beloved is still alive out there.

HC is determined to get him back.

Over the years, HC interrogated (tortured) all the rogue groups that contributed to the attack through the local rebels. He has task forces tracking those groups down, leaving few alive for further interrogation on the prince’s whereabouts.

Three years after taking control of Xianle kingdom, HC’s men locate the final rogue group, taking in three prisoners.

The first one has a noticeable limp and curses loudly regardless of who he talks to.

The second one has a cold face of steel, head held up in defiance as two men restrict his movements.

The third one wears an iron mask that appears to be bolted into the side of their temples, head bowed in submission.

All three of them have the rogue symbol burned into the backs of their necks.

The two maskless prisoners hold firm that they were not involved with the rogues during the attack of the kingdom. Their marks are proof, as the members of the group who join willingly may choose an area besides the backs of their necks to place the rogue symbol.

HC doesn’t like their tones one bit, too brash and disrespectful in his presence. Though they pose a logical argument, HC doesn’t really have time to deal with them.

As he’s about to signal his men to finish the job, the one with a limp suddenly speaks out.

“We would never bring any harm to His Highness or his family. We knew them personally...they quite enjoyed stopping by our vendor back in the day. If anything, we hope you can allow us to labor in the restoration of the kingdom Prince Xianle and the king and queen helped cultivate.”

Burning hot rage fills HC’s gut. For some reason, appealing to XL seemed to be this man’s last attempt to earn HC’s mercy.

“It will not do you any good to lie,” he says icily.

“It’s true,” the other stone-faced prisoner says. His mouth twists in bitterness. “His Highness had many dreams to fulfill when becoming king.”

HC’s lips curl in a snarl.

“A garden. In the front for anyone to enjoy,” the man continues. “Filled with roses, lotuses, and magnolias.”

“Jasmine,” HC mutters to himself. He rubs his temple tiredly.

The trial had gone longer than it should have. But a sliver of hope clutches at his heart. Perhaps he can take a chance on these fools.

“You, with the mask, do you have anything to say for yourself?” HC addresses the third prisoner, making sure they are on the same page as the other two.

The masked prisoner keeps their head bowed. Their hands make a flurry of gestures that make no sense to HC. Before HC can question it, the first prisoner says,

“Forgive this one, for he cannot speak. He’s had a terrible beating to the skull about a year ago by the leader of the rogue group we were captured by,” he explains. “But he is willing to cooperate under your rule, as we all are.”

HC slams his hand down on the arm of the throne.

“Very well.” He turns to the guards. “Take them to the dungeons. Await my orders about what to do with them.”

The guards comply, heaving the prisoners up and pulling them to side doors, the dungeons in a separate structure than the palace.

HC unconsciously touches the pocket of his robes where XL’s final letter resides.

“Soon, my love. Soon, I will find you and bring you home.”

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #cerdrabbles #tian guan ci fu #another prince XL AU we love to see it #rogue merchant HC who ends up becoming king #but rough waters ahead #open-ended AU #that might change #I just have poor writing stamina pls understand

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rouiyan · 4 years ago

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𝘋𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘓𝘠 𝘋𝘌𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘌𝘋 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ the third volume of rouiyan’s debut series, till death do us part ⧐

synopsis: “prince jeno looks for the man in the moon, he wonders if he's looking right back at him.”

✧ prince!lee jeno x crown princess!reader ✧ royalty au

✧ genres : angst ✧ word count : 5.0k ✧ disclaimers : childhood trauma, mental/emotional parental abuse, depictions of drowning, violence in the form of attempted assassination/murder, blood, gory scenes

✧ author’s note — i had this finished and drafted on sunday. i proofread it, fucking hated it, and deleted it. here's the much better version that was finished at 3:27 a.m.

read volume two here: overcast skies and those who die.

prince jeno is seated at the head of the dining hall among an array of immediate family, distant family, advisors and any other official that is deemed trustworthy enough to attend the second prince's fifth birthday. his seat is raised so that he's able to reach the table but even then, his short stature makes it seem as if his parents and sibling are still towering over him, still. instead of smiling over the platters of food that are all catered towards his taste, he's glowering and persistent, if anything, to return the gaze of anyone but his own reflection in the porcelain plate.

he looks up, for the briefest of seconds, and his mother is relieved, also for the briefest of seconds in the belief that he was to say something of importance, perhaps a 'thank you for coming,' would be the most appropriate for his age. she's disappointed to note that jeno's eyes are held in distaste on the boy seven seats down from him, smiling and talking to himself, or rather the food he's chasing around the plate with his fork. his mother is disappointed, to say the least, that jeno cannot get past that thick little head of his and be prince-like in any way.

she wouldn't be surprised if it was in relation to the events that occurred a little over a fortnight ago.

jeno peaked his head into the throne room and, noting that it was empty, turned back to look at his friend since birth, na jaemin. "what do we do now?" jeno's shy his friend's height by a quarter of an inch, not that height matters all that much when you're only four years of age. jaemin looked into the prince's eyes, "we go in," he said with a mischievous glint.

the kids were tiptoeing, for the dramatics, there really wasn't anyone who could notice them with the rest of both their families caught up in the schematics of a new trade war. the two of them excluded for obvious reasons, their age. prince jaemin at the age of four was already used to dominating in all aspects of royalty. jeno supposed that being the sole heir of the throne had its fair share of benefits, maybe not fair, definitely unfair. the two were friends because of family ties and if not for family ties, jeno wasn't sure he'd ever like to talk to the likes of jaemin, the royalty of royalty.

jeno's nose scrunches each time some adult would comment that he was 'cute' and jaemin 'handsome.' he wonders why his status as second prince would make him look different in any way. even now, looking over at jaemin's side profile, he doesn't think of him as any more 'handsome' than 'cute.' resolutely, his eyebrows knit as the two boys round up on the two elevated thrones at the back end of the extensive room. jeno peers at jaemin behind him for affirmation to do the deed. he only nods encouragingly.

taking a deep breath, jeno takes a step upwards, two, and looks back at jaemin again. he's a step below him now. three steps later and they’re at the platform on which the two royal seats are built into. jeno pads carefully to the more elaborate of the two effigies on the left. his steps were silent on the woven rug and he's reminded of his bare feet, he'd learned a great deal long ago in his etiquette of royalty lessons how hefty of an offense bare feet on the royal rug is, much less the trouble he was to make not a minute after.

jeno checks but notes that jaemin's face was drawn in much more michievy than playfulness. he nods with the same look on his face and jeno doesn't think twice when he sits atop the throne, his father's throne. the room, from this angle, is spectacular. the vast carvings in the ceilings all seem to point to this exact spot, the way the murals trace up stories from the door and ending at the spot before him. the skylight that pours down light on this seat and this seat only. jeno wonders what it would be like to be sitting here on a daily, to have the room filled from front to back with advisors advising him and congressmen addressing to him and all his royal subjects addressing him as your majesty instead of just your highness.

the second prince is so caught up in the way the light cascades down, the way it reflects, the way it bends around the gold leaf pillars, that he doesn't notice jaemin mouthing at him, then whispering urgently to him, then screaming silently into his face. before he can even register the past seconds he's lost to the vastness of the throne room, his father, the king himself, is advancing towards him. he's advancing fast, angry, furious, at why his son would dare commit such heinous act, such disrespect towards his power.

the king's throne is not a simple chair, not in any kingdom, nor is it just a symbol of the highest achievable royal. the throne represents the generations that built the most formidable lands in all the world, the ancestry that raised the most capable of rulers, the most honest of men and women. the throne, passed down from heir to heir, is the one thing that defines the history of the kingdom, the one thing that serves as the source of vitality for the one individual with enough power to sentence death, the king. and lee jeno, second prince of the southern kingdom, was certainly not the king.

the true king now stood before his son, a yearning passion in his eyes to slit his throat right then and there. "now," the king's voice reverberates and ricochets off the walls in ways that jeno's four-year-old squeak toy of a voice could not. his tone increases in mockery as he speaks, "do you suppose i bow to you now? is that right, son?" jeno can't will himself to move his head for a nod, he simply cannot. his father's hands are behind his back, pleasant in stature, but his demeanor emanates a daunting power. when his son is silent, he reiterates, "are you my king?"

jeno can't will himself to speak, he simply cannot. the king’s hands are drawn from behind his back, they unsheath dagger from his hip. it's brought to the prince's right ear. "must i remind you," the point of the knife is pressing into the lower tip of his lobe. "a man, unfit for the title of king, but found on the king's throne, is punishable by death." jeno winces now, the only thing he can offer in response as the knife threatens to cut deeper. as his father threatens to cut deeper. "but the death is a gift, is it not?" the king talks leisurely, as if his words were not directed in threat to his son, but to a class of schoolchildren.

but the king does not take disrespect lightly, and in his eyes you will find the rich amber color of muddy hatred. a textbook definition is rehearsed, "for a man, one who has beheld the sight of this very room from that very spot, assuming the rightful place of the most relevant man, he ought to have achieved everything to think he deserves the honor. everything except death, of course." a textbook definition, yet, the king's son is quivering before him, blood running down a cheek, the side of his neck, the ruffles of his pressed white shirt. jeno cannot speak, he cannot move, he believes he's losing his sight as well, maybe even his ability to think.

his father place two hands on the armrests on either side of his throne and leans so his face is mere millimeters away from his son's. the king lowers his voice for only him to hear, "now, son, is that not what you were taught?"

he is met with silence.

"IS THAT NOT WHAT YOU WERE TAUGHT?"

the prince might as well be dead.

it is the first, but not the last, time that prince jeno is thrown into the dungeons. not to die, but to barely live on the remnants of the pig trough and horse feed. the prince sleeps most the time, on the stone cold floor, in the middle of the winter, but when he wakes, he is a fitful of coughs and vomit. and when he has enough energy to sit up and stare through the barred window, to the left of his cell, he thinks of jaemin. jaemin playing in the fields, jaemin dining in the long halls, jaemin bathing in a rosewater bath, jaemin sleeping in his four-poster canopied bed.

prince jeno is four, almost five, when he conjures his belief that friends lie, they manipulate, they will never stand up for you if it means getting into trouble as well. friends are not companions, there is no such thing as a companion. there is no one to trust. at least, that's what the bleak ceilings of his cage tell him. they whisper it into his ear, his cut ear that's now crusted with dried blood. they whisper it when he sleeps, when he wakes, when he isn't aware of who he is anymore. and they chant it, lowly, and hauntingly, when he's willing to listen. it's all he hears for the sixteen days he spends in his lone company. the sixteen days before he is snatched up by a royal guard to get cleaned and dressed for his fifth birthday celebration.

"the coal we mine. our lives on the line." the crowd chants. the crowd, the townspeople, the poor and the wealthy alike, they all chant. "the coal we mine. our lives on the line." prince jeno wants to cover his ears though he knows that's not princely of him. "the coal we mine. our lives on the line." he sees his father's arm, waving to the people, a little ways ahead on the grand horse-drawn carriage. the wood is painted a deep black, the embellishments are leafed in gold, and the upholstered seats draped in dark velvet. "the coal we mine. our lives on the line." jeno himself sits atop a black friesian horse, the mane glints in the piercing sunlight. his brother is beside him yet, as the concession draws away from the hundreds that line the streets on a dreary sunday morning and into the grounds of the palace, doyoung yanks his own friesian ahead of him.

the thundering choruses of the people wane in the departure of the royalty and the prince and his family are slowly trickling into the crowd that rests under umbrellaed lawns. they're dressed to their best, and their eyes pleasantly flick between the members of the royal family before them, in best efforts to conceal whatever judgements they have. the king dismounts first, and moves to greet his visitors, guests, from all over the region and of royal ancestry. the queen is next and doyoung and jeno himself are intended to follow suit.

but it's the moment prince jeno's eyes rake upon the boy, the retched boy whose title ranks crown prince na jaemin, that he wrenches the reigns of his horse in such an unrestrained, unbridled way that the horse rises instinctively onto its hind legs. prince jeno's fall through air is neither graceful nor a sight for sore eyes. his delicate, six-year-old spine is thrust into an arch. his neck, his upright neck, is flung into a curve. his arms, lean though feeble, can only thrash in protest and a learned helplessness ensues immediately afterwards. his small hands grasp the thin twines of nothing. his eyes, the deep brown that shines honey in the sunlight at the exact angle at which he his forced from the earth, they meet his mother's.

he had figured his death was imminent, and he had figured it'd be at the hand of his parents.

a shoulder, then an arm, the back, the legs, the heels, and finally, his head clunks onto the trodden turf. a horse crosses over his fallen body. there are people hovering about him in an instant. words that are no longer up for his comprehension are tossed his way. a hand is felt on his shoulder, the one he landed on, the one he can no longer feel. black spots begin to cloud his vision, his hold on reality is starting to become grainier as the seconds tick.

the last image he is able to put together is the face of his mother. stone cold, void of sympathy, void of warmth, void of motherly affection, but congested, not with blood, but with apathy. when he wakes, and thinks of the scene, he can only hope it was a vicarious conjurance of the bleeding gape in his skull.

when he wakes, he is three weeks ahead of when he'd fallen. the memories of this period all blur together for the jeno in adulthood, he swears he can never remember much of it. but if he did, he would recall a girl by his side, of similar age. if he did, he would recall the girl's fingers carefully renewing his soiled bandages every six hours. he'd remember the way she smiled, called his name, kept him company. he'd remember the sympathy, warmth, affection that emanated from your every word, action, mannerism. if he remembered the happenings after his fall from grace, he'd remember the one who healed him, resurrected him.

he would remember y/n, his first friend, companion, love.

the air of the sea bites with salt, and offers little refreshment during the hours of daylight. it's in the evening when the skies clear, when the stars begin to show, aligning themselves like golden eyelets on a black satin fabric. prince jeno isn't nearly as tall as the grasses that spurt from the ground, in every direction and covering every viable piece of land. the stares up at the stalks as he walks, the ends flitting with the wind, bending down to tickle his forehead and over its back, motions repeating like one of a giant mass or swaying crowd.

he doesn't dare enter the fields, the prospect of becoming lost all too prominent even before stepping in, but the prince stands right in front of the first rows of tall grass, imagining what was beyond, what he would see when they crossed. at the simple age of seven, he'd already become accustomed to letting his thoughts rampage in his mind over voicing them aloud. voicing them aloud would do him now good, perhaps it was because a child's thought were nearly never as gentlemanly as his mother hoped him to voice, as his father expected of him.

prince jeno is seized by the back of his collar with his father's iron-tight fist. he's dragged, little feet barely reaching the floor as his neck is caught up within the confines of his cotton shirt. he's coughing and having a hard time breathing when he's thrown back into the carriage with a shove and a thud for a landing. his brother sits in front of him, posture straight, the bends of his pant knees clean, and a stern look adorning his face. jeno thinks of clawing the older's face with his finger, the inside of his nails laden with dirt, just to smother his perfect side profile he adores so much. jeno can only think.

the horses are set on a run again and as the family rattles along the unused path, further up the mid-sized hill they were crossing, the view just beyond those grasses come into view. a clean-cut, seaside cottage with shutters of cream and siding of beiges. the roofing, by the looks of it, was made by a thick thatch, though the chimney that stands tall upon it is tiled in white brick. the cottage is set on the shore in such a way that the sands of the beach it opens up to ride as high as the parkway permits and the ocean itself, the glittering ocean, emits the most lovely sea breeze. it's mint green with touches of turquoise and as you draw near, the sandy grounds gradually dissolve into bottomless depths.

jeno thinks what it would feel like to be caught in a current and be swept into the middle of the glittering ocean. he wonders what it would feel like to be surrounded by nothing but the suffocating salts of the water and the beating of the sun's rays. jeno would like to know if it was better than being surrounded by his family. he hates the way his brother's face is still a pristine clean surface and the way his mother's legs are crossed pretentiously, for absolutely no one to see, and how his father can never see past his set furrowed brows.

the carriage stops before the cottage and it's enough to see it from afar but up close, the prince doubts anything could compare. it's small and quaint in the way he supposes most people's homes are and the air of the inside holds the bordered between musty and a tang of sea salt. jeno's four-year-old mind has yet to wrap its head around the concepts of familiarity and succor in tangible objects but the way that dusts settles on the kitchen counter, the edge of the bathtub, the posts of his bed frame, are oddly comforting in a way he could never describe. perhaps it's the simple fact that the dust will sit for awhile before being swept away, they get the chance to. jeno's four-year-old mind fails to notice that he finds solace in the four walls of his designated bedroom that he can see with one sight, the end of the hall visible from one end to another, the kitchen adjacent to the dining room. he fails to notice how he feels most at home in a home and not in a godforsaken palace.

midnight strikes on the unaware prince as he ventures out the back end of the cottage, towards the lining of the beach. the screened storm door is left unhinged in his wake, flapping open and shut in correspondence with each gust of nightly wind. prince jeno's bare feet leave the shallowest of rifts in the soft sands, the sand itself blowing over and evening out the rupture in mere seconds. the midsummer humidity allows the boy to don only a pair of swimming trunks as he wades in the cool water, jumping as the tides roll in and kicking up at the pebbles that dig into the soles of his feet. gingerly, he braves himself for the chill that is inevitable when he lays himself gently on his back. the little prince shivers.

jeno names the stars in his head, he draws constellations, drones on about the zodiac signs he's learned of and makes up ones of his own. he conjures images of mythical creatures in his mind as he feels the water, now lukewarm and adjusted, lap over his bare torso. prince jeno looks for the man in the moon, he wonders if he's looking right back at him.

the moon draws its waters with force when the clock strikes one. it pushes them to shore, in the direction of the cottage, in the direction of the adrift prince. the first of the waves, slosh gently into him, sending him in unison with the fluctuation. the second only hits as high as the sides of his cheekbones but the third is strong, it submerges him.

prince jeno no longer has to wonder what it would feel like to be caught in a current and be swept into the middle of the glittering ocean. like to be surrounded by nothing but the suffocating salts and the little moonlight that dwindles between the undulating water above him. it flits and when in darkness, the boy finds difficulty to decide which way is up, he's afraid he can only fall further downwards. that is the only thing he is afraid of. even when briny droplets begin to line the inner surfaces of his windpipes, even when the thrashes still, no longer supported by his weakened limbs, even when his vision spots, his eyelids shut, his ears clogged. prince jeno is afraid he can only fall further downwards.

the sun is the next thing jeno sees, quite off-putting after having been under the sheets for the previous day and a half. it seems that though he's fully awaken at this point in time, his legs are not, his arms are not, and sure enough, every other part of his body reverberates in the only way the numbness of paralysis would give. prince jeno is not paralyzed but he hasn't been washed, fed, not even a sip of water has passed his lips since he was washed ashore and collected by a royal guard.

he lays still for another minute or so, which may as well have been fifteen, forty, and hour, he isn't sure and he has no way to be sure but once he feels the slightest twitch of a toe, he's up and moving. moving to the kitchen, the source of all sounds he hears, of laughter, banter, spoons clinking in ceramic bowls. jeno's moving until he is not, but rather than the kitchen, he's in a fairly inaccessible hallway and at a foot of set of steps that spiral beneath the earth. prince jeno is seven and he is curious.

the biting brass of the stairwell against his sock-clad feet is silent but frigid to the touch, the rails, equally as brass, are ornate in detail with excess knobs and spindles for effect. it only comes in full picture when prince jeno reaches the bottom where a brass door is set, completing the sight. pupils shaking, he places a hand on the handle, then two, and pushes it open.

the dust that rests in the room is certainly not something he finds comfort in. the thickness of it becomes suffocating the more he treads within and it isn't until he reaches the back end of the room, where a little barred window is perched, does he understand the purpose of the room. there's an underlying rumor that passes within the confines of the room, by the way of an apparition, a lost soul, a deceased soul.

the prince shivers, he is standing in a cage, and he runs before it can encapsulate him once more.

panting, he is on the landing, in the obscure hallway, to the door to the right, the one straight ahead, until he's in the kitchen, voice quavering, "there is a dungeon, brother! there is a dungeon beneath us!" the kitschy tiling is starting to marble before his eyes as they brim with tears. they turn to look at the helpless boy of seven years, in pajamas, the scar on his left ankle showing, his hair upturned, eyes blown wide.

bemused, it's rather his father who turns to look at him and speaks with a voice that could only denote belittlement, "ahh, yes, the one for the unruly children."

prince doyoung laughs because he is not an unruly child. prince jeno does not laugh because although he is not an unruly child, he is also not the crown prince.

✧ PRESENT

second prince, lee jeno, draws himself straight, emerging from the black marbled carriage drawn by horses of black mane, he sets his sights on the scene that unfolds before him. the southern castle is fortified in pitch black; black footbridges, posterns, battlements, towers and pinnacles, and all that meets the eye upon first glance. in the moment, the moonlight is cascading down between passing clouds, reflecting across the rounds of the turrets like thick coils of smog. the castle itself, though, serves as a looming presence that rests above a barren forest which is then, set behind a pathed field of low blown and weeded grass. there’s a noticeable wind that courses through the hallowed glade, gurgling the water of the well he’d just passed and ruffling the dried leaves off their branches. jeno’s spirits dissipate as the stems of browned flowers uproot themselves, undulating with the chorus of the wind and wafting a fetid scent.

the prince is accompanied, on either side, by his guards dressed in black and gold accents, he himself, wearing an ensemble of white in contrast. there is no one to guide him home.

it’s awfully difficult for jeno to forget the reason he is here in the first place, as much as he'd like.

he stands there, that night, his features casting lengthened shadows on the wall behind him, basked in the flickering light of a single candle. crown prince doyoung sits across from him.

"i suppose the time has come for me to congratulate my younger brother." jeno wonders why he cannot take him with an ounce of sincerity.

"i hope that you have not called me, on such short notice, to give your feigned-hearted felicitations." jeno supposes it's because of the excessive mockery with which his brother speaks that he cannot bring himself to feel particularly fond for. the older clears his throat in an attempt to hide his incoming smile, "and why might you think my heart be feigned?"

scoffing, it's the second prince's turn to push forth mockery, "do you believe us brothers to be close? to be compassionate with each other?" his brother remains silent at that but his face is still drawn in amusement. jeno continues, "i do not believe i am in need of your congratulations on my marriage."

the smirk on his face only seems to grow, jeno could say his anger grows with it. sneering and in full anticipation of the younger's response, prince doyoung quips, "then i suppose i am to offer congratulations on the grounds that you have claimed a throne," jeno's face returns taut, "albeit not from your own will, or even your own silver blood, but congratulations on the throne, nonetheless."

it's years later and jeno can only think of grappling the stiff neck of his brother within the hold of his hands and juicing his blood in such a way that his veins run dry. jeno can only think of throwing him in the cell of their vacation villa, he can only think of slitting his ears. he can only think.

the room is gathered in silence. jeno pushes forth with his speech, "and i would like to thank the whole of this room on the basis of my livelihood, i could not have gone so far, done so much, grown to such lengths, without the support of my kingdom. now, it seems it is in my hands to recover the losses of the northern kingdom, their deceased king in reference-" he is cut off by the king.

"an unfortunate circumstance, might i add." jeno's father laughs, he laughs. his mother begins to hide a chuckle behind her hand, and the advisors and officials in the room all seem to share the same enjoyment.

his brother. his brother is laughing as well. the room is sprung in gaiety and jeno can only allow his body to run autopilot as he processes the revelations, a sick feud between kings. one that, if not for your loving presence, he would be partaking in, willingly. but instead the world has the gall to mock him, rightfully so, for years of his life have been spent with the same thoughts plaguing his mind.

"but, oh! our dear jeno, whom we'd never have thought more of, charming the wits out of a lass with golden blood!" his mother has removed her hand, no longer feeling the need of propriety, and exclaiming her heartfelt sins with pronounced fervor. by then, jeno's blood is already set to boiling, flames flickering and erupting in his irises but he has enough composure to soothe himself with thoughts of you. as it so happens, that is the extent of his composure.

"you never know, next perhaps, will be the princess herself." he gives it five seconds.

jeno launches himself at his father across the table, knife in hand, lodging the apparatus into the old man's abdomen with sleazy aim. jeno pulls his posture upright, now atop the table, gravy smothering the satin lining of his slacks. his eyes are in pursuit of his father's but the others in the room have eyes only for him. he attempts a kick to the damned git, when he's thrust back forcefully by a swarm of arms and trepidatious glowers. he responds in a fit of anger, as if his previous outburst had only served as a preamble, hand gripping the head of a bottle of wine as he crouches. with practiced stealth, he pummels the glass in such a way that sharp edges are formed and he storms again, the intent of death in his eyes.

as the swish of a tranquilizing dart slits open air, lee jeno can see his father, the crimson substance leaking inside out. he can see the spray of wine red liquor as it sails without direction. he can see the scarlet veins in his brother's eyes, the scarlet rims of his mother's. and, when his eyes fall shut and he feels his knees hit the rufescent tablecloth, all he can see is you, drenched in red.

read volume four: and when i fall.

✧ end note — not much happens in this one, admittedly, but jeno's childhood and upbringing is something i really needed to touch on and this version really fleshes it out nicely. the original one that i scrapped felt super rushed, and though i developed more into the forefront storyline, i started to hate the use of a linear plotline for this piece because the main ideas on which it was built upon sounded so feeble when put in context of only the 'present.' but enough of me rambling, i love you, good day. <3

#nct #nct fics #nct scenarios #nct jeno #nct jeno angst #jeno angst #lee jeno #jeno x reader #jeno x y/n #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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lauwrite1225 · 4 years ago

Text

Broken Crown || Finan x OC || Chapter 9

Summary : Since the day he has been enslaved, Finan never thought that he would have to face his origins. But when an old friend made her arrival to Wessex, the Irishman is forced to deal with his past.

Other chapters

English isn’t my first language, if you see any mistakes, tell me :)

Warning : some violence

09 || BROTHERS

It was early in the morning when the two young monks were sent to the river to pull the fishing nets. Rohan was sitting at the edge of the pier, deep in thoughts. More than two months had passed since Ailis departure and he couldn’t help but worry for her. He had tried to seek information from his mother last month, but she had none, and even if she had, he wasn’t sure she would have told him.

“You’re not being very helpful.” Growled Bran further, struggling to pull the net out of the river.

Rohan turned his head to his little brother. He was a year and half younger than him. The two boys didn’t really look like each other. When the elder was thin and tall, Bran was smaller and still had the round cheeks of a child. Rohan was the spitting portrait of their mother with his emerald eyes and chestnut hair too long for a monk. According to Ailis, Bran was a good mixed of his two parents, his eyes were brown and his hair was neither too dark nor too light. But what the woman always affirmed, was that both of them as their father’s smile.

“Sorry, Bran.” He apologized, standing up and joining him.

He took a part of the net and pulled with his brother. When it was totally out of the water, they dropped it on the pier, satisfied to see three fishes trapped.

“What were you thinking?” Asked Bran starting to remove the fishes from the net.

Rohan scratched the back of his neck. “Do you think Ailis will succeed this time?”

Bran frowned, undoing a knot. Both of them well knew Ailis and cared for her. Since they were brought in the monastery, she always came to visit them, telling them what was happening in Navan Fort. But also, to answer their questions about their father, a thing their mother would never do. While Bran slowly became disinterested by the subject, Rohan couldn’t forget who his father was. He knew by heart how he won his nickname: Finan the Agile. He knew how Conall enslaved him and probably caused his death. The first time Ailis told him the story, he was a boy and felt an immeasurable hatred towards his uncle. But Ailis quickly warned him, feeding his anger would never bring him anything. And so, he let it fade and instead the will to become a warrior grew.

“She always succeeds. Why wouldn’t she this time?” He questioned, looking up to him.

“You are more optimistic than usual.” Noticed Rohan, leaning to grab the bucket his brother just pointed him.

“I have to, or you’ll run away and do something stupid.” He said, catching the bucket Rohan handed him. “I’m the one thinking after all.” He smirked.

Rohan pulled out his tongue while Bran was laughing. But he wasn’t totally wrong. His brother had the nasty habit to leave the monastery in the middle of the night and coming back few days later. Only Bran in the monastery knew he was going to Navan Fort. The other monks just thought he was wandering in the woods near.

“Last time I saw her, Ailis told me you needed me.” He said, taking a net and throwing it in the river.

“Of the two of us, I am clearly the one who can take care of himself.” Retorted the youngest, grabbing one of the fish and putting it in the bucket.

“Except to pull the nets.” Rohan teased him, turning half to him.

Bran laughed with him before working again on the nets. They walked back half an hour later to the monastery. Even after his conversation with his brother, Rohan couldn’t help but think about Ailis. And once again, his thoughts led him and the next morning, when Bran woke up, the bed next to his was empty.

…

The moment they entered Navan Fort, some people gathered around them, greeting Ailis. But the woman didn’t lose time talking with them. She walked to a guard, ordering him to announce their arrival to the King. As Finan dismounted his horse, he briefly crossed her gaze, just enough time to feel her anxiety. Men came to take care of their horses and stuff, and Ailis made them a sign for them to follow her.

Osferth and Sihtric curiously looked around as people stopped their activities to stare at them. It was obvious that the little group was intriguing them. Who could expect two Danes peacefully walking alongside three Christians?

They quickly made their way to the castle. It used to be a small build in stone, but over the years, new wooden walls had been added. Now it was an impressive castle in which the five warriors walked in, leaving their weapons on the entrance. But as they passed through the corridors, Finan couldn’t think of something else than his brother. His mind was full of interrogations even if he knew he would have answers in a small matter of time.

Finan was behind Osferth and Sihtric when they entered the throne room, already filled by some Lords. His jaw clenched as he saw Conall, sat on the throne. A smile grew on his face while Ailis was approaching him. Finan stared at him so intently, he wondered how he hadn’t already noticed him. He was obviously older, but King’s life made him look even more. The young man Finan knew was hidden behind some wrinkles and grey strands in his raven hair and beard. The crown on his head felt weird to Finan. Last time he saw him with one, they were children and it was a wooden crown. This one had been worn by generations of Kings before it owned to Conall.

He stood up and before he had the time to speak, a little girl ran to Ailis.

“Ailis!” She exclaimed, hugging her. The red hair smiled to the girl. She was no more than ten, her brown eyes sparking with joy as she looked up to her. “I am happy you are back.”

“Moira!” Finan froze at the voice and word.

His eyes left Ailis to the woman entering the throne room. Dealla wasn’t hard to recognize, it was like time didn’t work on her. Her bright chestnut hair was tied in an elegant bun and her dress was shaping her slightly rounded belly.

“Moira, come here please.” She said, extending her hand to the girl.

Finan’s jaw twitched as he looked back to Conall. How dared he name his daughter after her, after how disrespectful he had been with her ? Anger was growing in his chest and his fingers were nervously wandering around where used to be the handle of his sword. If he could, he would jump on him and slash his eyes with his thumbs. But he made a promise to Ailis, and so he didn’t move.

Conall walked away from his throne, his smile not leaving his face. He opened wide his arms as he approached Ailis. “Ailis, it’s a pleasure to see you back here.”

“Lord King.” She said, lightly bowing her head. She smiled at him as he put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her in an embrace. She quickly pulled out of it and turned to Uhtred. “This is Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburgh.”

The half-Dane made a step and Conall stared at him with a smirk.

“The Dane slayer.” Finan could easily see how Uhtred’s face twisted at the nick-name. “I see King Edward sends us his greatest warrior to defeat the Danes.”

Ailis took a deep breath as she looked to Uhtred.

“Actually, Lord Uhtred isn’t here to talk about war.” She spoke slowly, careful with her words. But it didn’t prevent Conall to furrow his eyebrows, his smile suddenly fading.

“What do you mean?” He asked looking alternatively Uhtred and Ailis.

The Lord of Coccham took one more step, crossing his arms against his chest. “I am here to represent King Edward during negotiations of peace with the Danes.”

“Negotiation of peace?” Disbelief was clear in his voice as he raised both his eyebrows. “If I remember we talked about an army, Ailis.”

As he walked closer to Ailis, she straightened a little, raising her chin and meeting his brown eyes. “This is the solution King Edward gave us. Our only solution.” Her voice didn’t betray her anxiety. Her eyes were cold as ice when Conall’s ones were already burning with anger.

“And what that peace will cost us? Uh ?” He questioned her, leaning a little to her.

The red hair swallowed but she didn’t flinch. “The south.”

“The south!” Exclaimed Conall. He raised his hands in the air, turning to the small crowd of whispering lords. Finan’s fists clenched as he watched Conall pointing a threatening finger to Ailis. “You expected me to let the south, our lands, to those bastard heathens?” The tip of his finger was now pressed on Ailis’ chest. “I asked for an army Ailis, not this shit.” He growled.

“If you are not happy Conall, maybe you should go by yourself next time.”

A long silence grew in the room. Slowly, all gazes fell on Finan but he could only feel Ailis’ disapproving one. His jaw twitched once more, remembering how all eyes were on him too, years later, in this exact room.

“Who are…” Conall cut himself as he stared at Finan, his eyes slowly opening wide. “You.”

“What is it ?” Finan couldn’t help but smirk as he took a step towards his brother. “You look like you just saw a ghost, brother.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Conall grumbled, incomprehension in his eyes turning to anger. “You should be burning in hell.”

“Oh I’ve been through hell, you made sure of it.” Finan answered.

In a quick move, that Finan didn’t see fast enough to avoid, Conall caught Finan’s jaw in his hand, pressing his fingers against his cheeks. He looked like a mad dog as he approached his face to Finan. From the corner of his eyes, the warrior could see the visible nervousness of Sihtric, his gaze jumping from the crowd to the two brothers.

“I should kill you right now.” Conall growled.

“Do it. Maybe you’ll be less cowardly this time.” Finan dared him, raising his hands in the air.

A bad smile was now painted on the King’s face. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

The two brothers kept fighting through their gaze until Ailis caught Conall’s shoulder and pushed him away from Finan.

“You won’t kill him Conall.” The woman said him, trying to ease her voice so it didn’t feel too much like an order.

Conall removed his shoulder from Ailis’ grip. She shivered as his eyes fell on her, his wrath visibly burning even more in them.

“You dared bring him here.” He fumed, pointing at Finan.

Ailis took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Finan is pledge to Lord Uhtred, he has his protection.” She stopped a moment, turning his eyes to her friend. He was rubbing his face after the pressure of Conall’s fingers. He kept his promise, she must hold hers. “And mine.” She declared, looking back to her King.

Silence grew once more in the throne room. Near the throne, Dealla was holding her daughter against her, her fingers curling in the girl’s hair. If Conall was furious, she was still shocked to see Finan standing here, alive. She bit her inner cheek, the scene in front of her looking too much like one, a life time ago.

“You disappointed me Ailis.” Conall said, stepping towards Ailis, tightening his fist. “A lot.”

And once more, the King was too quick, and Ailis couldn’t prevent the punch he gave to Finan. The warrior didn’t expect him too as he stumbled a little before Uhtred helped him standing. A tear rolled down Finan’s cheek, already red, as he looked up to his brother who was heavily breathing.

“Get out of here !” Conall shouted but no one moved. “All of you! GET OUT!”

…

“He is mad.”

Osferth’s comment broke the heavy atmosphere of the room. The five warriors were in the bedroom of an inn, thoughts occupied with what had happened. Sat on the bed, Finan growled when Ailis brought a cold damp cloth to his bruised cheek. She frowned at him and has she pressed lightly the fabric and this time he did not move. She was crouching in front of him and her other hand was leaning on his knee. He held her gaze a moment, reading the apologies in her eyes. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it a little as he smiled at her.

“What do we do now?” Spoke again Osferth.

Sihtric, leaned against the door just behind the Baby Monk, tilted his head, wondering the same thing. Ailis sighed and stood up, giving the wet cloth to Finan.

“I need to talk with him, to convince him, before it’s too late.” She said, arms crossed against her chest.

“No, you won’t!” Protested Finan. She turned to him, frowning. He looked down, his hands gesturing in the air as he tried to explained his thoughts. “He’s mad at you. Not only for the deal. You know he won’t listen to you.”

When his eyes met hers once again, she saw pleadings. And he was probably right to plead her to not go. Last time Conall had been that angry, it didn’t end well. She didn’t have the time to answer back that Uhtred was speaking in turn.

“Then I’ll talk to him.” When all eyes were on the Lord of Coccham, he smiled. “I am Edward’s voice, it’s time that I play the King.”

Ailis found nothing to contradict. When she looked back to Finan, he seemed to agree too. On those words, Uhtred left the room and charged Sihtric and Osferth to find them food.

“Thank you for keeping your promise.” Ailis said to Finan, when the door was close and they were alone together. She watched him stood up, staring at his swollen cheek, her heart aching. “And for taking my defense.”

To intervene was a risk he shouldn’t have taken. But at the same time, Finan was decided to make his presence known by his brother. He survived the worst and wasn’t going to hide behind Uhtred and Ailis.

“He had no right to talk to you like that.” He said.

“He is a King, Finan.” She reminded him, but he shook his head.

“Not to me. He is just my bastard little brother.” He put his hands on her shoulder, his thumbs close to her collar, revealing her skin. “I won’t let him insult you.”

Ailis held her breath as he said those words. They acted on her, making her heart bit faster and her body warm. His brown eyes were more fascinating than ever as his fingers left her shoulder to slide a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“You deserve better and you know that.” There was no anger in his voice anymore.

“This is not about what I deserve, Finan.” She softly said, like she didn’t want him to hear. But he obviously heard her.

He sighed and let his hands drop back to his sides. He couldn’t argue more, Osferth and Sihtric entering the room with food. Now, they had to wait for Uhtred’s return.

A/N : AAAAAAAH FINALLY MORE OF ROHAN, BRAN AND CONALL!! Yeah I love them. Even that bastard of Conall :((. I hope Finan and Ailis slow burn isn’t too bad lmao, it’s quite hard to do lol.

Tag: @geekandbooknerd @sihtric @queen-manning @naihqh @kelly-fasel @cloudjuumpers @limenal @amyyreblogss @othermoony and @queerbroceliande

#finan #finan the agile #finanxoc #fanfiction #the last kingdom #broken crown

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notalwaysthevillian · 5 years ago

Text

What the Heart Wants

Happy birthday, @fanartfunart! I did my best at historical fantasy. I hope you like it!

(Also, this may or may not become another AU. It all depends on how much time I have on my hands.)

Warnings: None?

Pairings: LAMP

Word Count: ~2k

Patton

Virgil stormed into the throne room, holding a scroll in his hand. King Thomas waved his servants off, not noticing when one of them stayed behind.

“A contest?” The paper nearly tore as Virgil’s grip tightened. “You think a contest is going to help Patton find someone good enough for him?”

“It’s out of my control.” The king’s voice was steady. “Queen Azure has made it quite clear that she wants to merge our two kingdoms. She cannot do anything if Patton is already married before he is coronated.”

Virgil bit his tongue, taking a deep breath. “In that case, I suppose it is the best way. You are allowing him to choose his fate, even if he has to choose early. But how will he know whose intentions are true? Patton could choose someone who is deceitful.”

“There is nothing stopping you from entering.”

The knowing tone in Thomas’s voice had Virgil turning a deep red. “I have no idea what you -”

“V.” The interruption was gentle. Virgil slowly closed his mouth, allowing the king to speak. “I’ve known you since you were up to my knee. I have seen the way you look at him. You worry, I know. You think you are not good enough. But know this - I think you are more than good enough.”

Virgil’s next words were scarcely louder than a whisper. “What if he chooses someone else?”

“Patton will choose who he feels is best.” Thomas stepped closer, putting a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “If he feels that is you, I will be thrilled. If not, then I know you will still protect him until your dying breath.”

Virgil gave a sharp nod, blinking quickly. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“V.”

“Thank you, Thomas.”

With a wave of his hand, Thomas excused Virgil. He waited until the footsteps had faded before he spoke. “Roman.”

The servant froze on his tiptoes.

Thomas turned, laughing at the sight. “Please, come here.”

Wringing his hands, Roman stepped forward until he stood before the king. He kept his head down. Thomas was a good king, but Roman knew he had disobeyed.

“Hey,” Thomas gently reached out, tilting Roman’s head up. “You are allowed to look at me.”

“Your Majesty -”

“Please, call me Thomas.”

“King Thomas...I did not mean to be disrespectful. I merely wished to know what the contest was for.” As Roman spoke, he tried to look down again.

Thomas gently pushed his chin back up. “Roman, everyone has a natural curiosity. It is quite alright that you stayed.”

Roman nodded slowly, terrified of saying something wrong.

“What interests you about the contest?”

His cheeks warmed. “I have special interest in the prince.”

“And what about my son interests you?”

There was no malice in Thomas’s voice. When Roman forced himself to meet the King’s eyes, he saw nothing but kindness reflecting back. “The prince...he treats us like people. As do you, but he treats me as though I were a childhood friend. His kindness knows no bounds, much like his perchance for sweets.”

Thomas laughed. “Yes, he does enjoy the desserts.”

“He cares so much about everyone...I worry that someday he will meet someone who is the opposite.” Tears blurred Roman’s vision. He wiped them away, his voice trembling. “Such a kind heart can cause death.”

Calloused thumbs brushed Roman’s tears from his face. “Just as I told Sir Virgil, I will tell you. Nothing is stopping you from entering the contest.”

“Sir Virgil is much closer to the prince. He will win.”

King Thomas smiled. “Perhaps he is, but you do have a fortnight to prepare. You never know what will happen until you try.”

Determination entered Roman’s gaze. He stood tall, puffing out his chest.

“I will do my best to win your son’s hand.” He started to walk away before he stopped and turned back. “Apologies, King Thomas. Do I have permission to go?”

“Permission granted.”

As soon as Roman was gone, King Thomas headed out of the throne room. He retired to his personal library, opting to take some of his free time to read.

Or he would have, if the court mage had not entered in a hurry.

“King Thomas, my apologies, but I must -”

“Is this about the contest?”

Logan blinked. “How did you -”

“You are not the first to ask me about it, though I do expect that you are the last.” Closing his book, he turned to the mage, giving his full attention. “I suspect you also think it is a bad idea.”

“That would not be my phrasing, but yes.” Thomas waited, knowing that Logan was one of the most intelligent people in the kingdom. “Why would you have such a contest? There is no logical reasoning - unless...Queen Azure. Her attempts to merge our kingdoms have grown in frequency. If Patton...this is so he can choose.”

“Exactly.”

Logan’s steely gaze pierced through the king. “Is there a restriction on who may enter this contest?”

Thomas smirked, merely shaking his head.

“Good. Then I shall see you tomorrow.” Logan hesitated for a moment. “Unless you require my assistance in any way, shape, or form?”

“Logan, you’re excused.”

Just before Logan left the room, Patton flew through the door. He tripped, sending himself and Logan crashing to the floor.

With a wave of his arm, Logan stopped their descent and righted the two of them.

Patton flashed him a sunny smile. “Thank you, Lolo!”

Logan’s cheeks grew warm at the nickname. “It was no trouble, Patton.”

Thomas held back his laughter as Patton threw his arms around the mage. Logan looked ready to spontaneously combust.

“If you’ll excuse me…”

Patton let go, turning to Thomas, completely missing Logan’s burning face. The mage disappeared as quickly as he could.

“Father, I love the idea of a contest!” Patton squealed, bouncing on his toes. “Mean old Queen Azure won’t get her hands on our kingdom now.”

“It appears that you figured it out before your suitors.” Thomas said as he got out of his chair.

Confusion filled Patton’s face. “Suitors?”

“I have had three different men talk to me about the contest today.” Thomas slid the book into its place. He turned to find Patton hiding a smile behind his fingers. “It appears that you have quite the choice to make.”

***

The morning of the contest, Thomas made his way to Patton’s chambers. He knocked on the door, hearing loud footsteps before it was pulled open.

“Morning, Father!”

“Good morning, Patton.” Thomas began smoothing out his son’s mussed hair. “How did you sleep?”

“Not too well.” Patton admitted. “Nerves kept me awake.”

“That means you will not make a rash decision.” Reaching out, Thomas pulled Patton into a hug. He kissed the top of Patton’s dark hair. “Go with what your heart says.”

“You always tell me that!”

“Because it is the truth.” Thomas let go, stepping back toward the door. He could hear the servants coming down the hall to prepare Patton for the day. “A heart like yours will never steer you wrong.”

Thomas was whisked away, leaving Patton to his servants.

Patton never particularly liked when the servants helped him get ready. They were all a bit too rough. His skin bruised easily, something they never seemed to notice.

Once he was in his royal attire, which made him itch, he was taken out to the courtyard. Thomas sat in their shaded box, the seat to his right empty. Patton took his place, before looking out to the subject that had gathered.

“How many?” He whispered.

“Twelve.” The king whispered back, before he stood to give the instructions. “Thank you all for gathering here today. As you know, Prince Patton is to be coronated just after his eighteenth birthday. Today, he is to choose who he shall wed. Twelve of you have taken it upon yourselves to sign up for this contest. All we ask is that you show us something that explains who you are as a person. Patton will have some time to deliberate, but he shall choose before the sun sets tonight.”

Thomas sat down, waving to the Captain of the Guard.

“Toby Merlot.”

The boy did some acrobatics, gathering plenty of attention from Patton. When he stuck his landing, the prince rose to his feet, clapping.

As the rest of the men performed, Patton did the same each time. Some of the men grew frustrated, unsure of who the prince was going to choose.

“Sir Virgil Kensington.”

“Vee!” Patton squealed excitedly. He shrieked with joy as Virgil rode out on a horse.

Virgil expertly steered the horse around, maneuvering through the small obstacle course the guards had set up. Once he’d cleared the highest jump, he dismounted and handed the horse off. He bowed to the prince, giving him a wink when he straightened up.

As Virgil headed off, the Captain returned to his list. “Master Logan Blackburn.”

“Lolo!”

The mage flushed at the nickname. He moved to the middle of the circle, breathing deeply to center himself.

With a wave of his hand, the lights dimmed. Logan concentrating, turning the lights into a wondrous display. His finale was a dragon that moved toward the royals, fizzling into thin air just before it reached them.

Patton grinned, letting out a loud cheer for his longtime friend and tutor.

“The final suitor - Roman Sparrow.”

“Ro?” Patton whispered, a smile appearing as he saw the servant head to the center. When he noticed how shaky Roman was, Patton called out, “You can do it!”

The prince’s words caused a surge of confidence in the young servant. Roman took in a deep breath before he began to sing.

The words carried the story of a young girl. A girl locked in a tower because she was not beautiful. A girl who broke free and saved herself, falling for a princess who loved her equally in return.

As the final note rang out, Patton was surprised to feel tears on his cheeks. He leapt to his feet, clapping as hard as he could.

Thomas rose to his feet and the noise quieted. “Patton will now deliberate -”

“No.”

“No?” Thomas asked, turning to his son. “What do you mean?”

“You told me to follow my heart.” Patton said. “My heart has already chosen.”

Thomas gave his son a smile. “By all means, who has won your heart?”

“Sir Virgil.” Patton said. Cheers erupted from the crowd, but he held up a hand. “Master Logan. And Roman.”

Whispers began to spread through the crowd.

“What does this mean?”

“Can he do that?”

Thomas put a hand on Patton’s shoulder, turning to the crowd once more. “My son has chosen! Virgil, Logan, Roman. If you will join us in the throne room.”

The three men glanced at each other before nodding, allowing the Captain to lead them away.

“Thank you all for joining us.” Thomas said as Patton hurried after the men. He started to make his way to the castle. “I will see you all at the Grand Feast!”

By the time Thomas entered the throne room, the four men were all talking at once. When they noticed his presence, they silenced immediately.

Sir Virgil stepped forward. At Thomas’s nod, he spoke. “You wanted Patton to choose who was best for him.”

“And he made that decision. Each of you came to me with concerns. Each of you cares deeply for my son.” Thomas smiled at the group. “Patton has always had a big heart. I believe it is big enough for three.”

Patton looked at the three of them. “I know it is early to say this, but I love you. All of you.”

There was a split second of silence before Virgil darted into Patton’s arms. Roman followed suit, sighing as Logan wrapped his arms around all of them.

Thomas watched the scene, knowing that his son had made the perfect choice.

#romantic lamp #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #wthw au

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spootiliousrps · 5 years ago

Text

Suspicious Nature Part 2

[Beginning] // [Next]

King Dean hummed as he listened to Castiel’s speech. “That is all very well, Commander. But I do wish to ask, one more question, it may sound... a rather odd question, but I have my reasons. When you presented, what did you present as?” Dean asked, the last comment about replacing Castiel only made him more certain that Castiel was hiding something, something large that could end his career.

This was it, the moment Cas had dreaded his entire life. He refused to feel shame however, standing tall, shoulders back, head high as he pursed his lips at the question. Castiel prided himself in his honesty, it set him apart from everyone else. He would survive this. He would manage... even if he no longer had a title. "I presented as an Omega, Your Majesty." He stated simply. The young King was far more intuitive than his father had been that was for certain... In away it made Cas proud to see, despite the cold resolve that now filled the Knight Commander.

Dean nodded. “I thought as much. This... avoidance cannot go unpunished. But I hope to become a fair, just King. So I’ll give you a choice. Surely, there are people here that know your truth. You can either keep your job, yet throw those people in jail. Or you cease this job and your way of hiding the truth, and...” Dean paused as he looked the Omega up and down. “And you become Queen.” He finished simply.

"Of Coarse, Your Grace, I shall begin preparations for my successor imm-" He rushed before the realization of the King's words struck him. He staggered a bit at the shock that washed over him. He was reeling. He couldnt be serious... This had to be a joke. Cas never did have a very good sense of humor... He just never understood that side of people, it was beyond him. "Forgive my ignorance, Your Majesty..." He began hesitantly, trying to gauge if the man was serious. " But I do not understand."

“As I’m sure you’re aware, I don’t have a Queen. Nor am I courting. One reason is because I have not found anyone suitable to help me rule, as the Queen should. With your... astute awareness, you would do well.” King Dean hummed. “It’s either that, or throw all your family and friends in jail.”

“No. No, please, Your Grace.” Cas rushed at the mention of throwing his loved ones in a cage. “I will do as you wish, of course.” He added with another low bow, he didn’t straighten however, already worried about overstepping himself as an Omega… Which was something he hadn’t fretted about in quite a long time. “I simply worry that it may be…” He paused as he tried to find the words. “Inappropriate for a King as gracious and renown as you to take a commoner as his Queen.” He pointed out. The simple idea of marriage did not sit well in the Knight Command- No… He was no longer Knight Commander… He needed to stop addressing himself as such. Regardless of what happened next Cas would be stripped of his previous title. “Surely there is someone much more suitable for such a wise and brave King.” He knew he was going a bit overboard with the compliments… perhaps even gravitating towards groveling but… Queen?! That was no small title. .

“A wise and brave King needs a Queen equal to him, or their relationship and the Kingdom will fall to ruins. You may be brash but you are wise. And I cannot think of an Omega who is as brave as you.” King Dean hummed. “And you are but a commoner. You were a commander.” He placed two fingers under Castiel’s chin and tilted his head up. He leaned down slowly, and pressed his lips to the Omega’s own.

Cas listened to the words, clinging to each one of them. Was that really what Dean thought of him? He didn’t really consider himself in such away and yet, for once the words didn’t feel false. The Omega just barely managed to keep from flinching as the King reached out to guide his chin upwards, forcing his blue gaze to meet the emeralds before him. This man… An Alpha… Ruler of an entire kingdom saw Castiel Novak, a commoner who had to fight tooth and nail to gain what little respect he had, as an equal? His mind was still reeling as Dean moved closer his scent flooding Cas’ senses as he pressed his lips to his. It was a fairly chaste show of affection and yet… the first the Omega had received in a very very long time. The flood of emotion that accompanied it had him feeling dizzy with something akin to motion sickness. He was so taken aback by the action, however, that he didn’t respond… just stared at the Alpha in shock and awe.

Dean pulled back and frowned. “Too soon?” He asked, as he stepped back. “Tomorrow morning, I wish for a report to be placed in my office, detailing who you believe is the best to succeed you. Stop taking whatever medicine you use to disguise your scent, it’s not very becoming of an Omega Queen.” Dean hummed and turned. “That is unless you wish to join me in retiring for bed.” He smirked and winked at Castiel.

The flush that washed over Castiel’s skin was dark enough to appear burned at the words. “That would be quite inappropriate, Your Majesty.” He mumbled softly as he straightened, tugging at the tunic beneath his thin armor. “I will make the necessary preparations before morning.” He nodded, clearing his throat awkwardly. “If I may, Sire… I would like to inform the men, if it is all the same to you?” He requested almost nervously. “I fear they would not take it well from anyone else. I have lived among them for long enough that their doubt would most certainly cause some trouble.”

Dean thought for a moment. “I will go with you to inform them. Alphas can be... emotional when it comes to Omegas lying to them. I do not wish to see my Queen be injured.” He stated. “But pray tell, why do you believe it is inappropriate for an Alpha to lay with his Omega?”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Whatever you wish.” Castiel agreed, though he wasn’t too fond of the idea. The fact that Dean was already becoming protective over him was a bit… unsettling. “It has very little to do with an Alpha and Omega laying together, Sire.” He explained awkwardly. “Ignoring the age difference, and the fact that I am a commoner, and meaning no disrespect, I don’t make it a habit of laying with any Alpha who asks me to bed.” Not that any had in over a decade. “Nor would I wish to imply that your…” He took a moment to force the words out. “Future Queen would be so dishonorable to do just that.”

“There is no dishonour in sleeping with someone, Castiel.” Dean stated. “But as you so wish. Just that the report on my desk by morning.” He turned and headed back to the castle. “I would also like you to suggest what... entourage you would like to have, once you have finished in the post.” He called over his shoulder before walking over the brow of a hill and back into the Kingdom.

Castiel watched him go, giving a small nod at the command before the King disappeared from sight. The moment he was alone, the breath the Omega hadn’t realized he was holding, left him and he practically collapsed onto the soft grass. What the hell just happened?! He scrubbed a hand through his messy locks as he tried to process it all. He had known losing his command had been a possibility but… becoming Queen?! Dean Winchester was utterly insane! A mad man!!! Christ, what was he going to do?! Cas wasn’t made out to rule… not like that. Soldiers were one thing but a kingdom? As an Omega?! Who would listen to him? Not to mention the backlash that would result in his men discovering the truth. How is it just hours ago he was at peace with the idea of stepping down and now… face with the prospect of stepping /up/ was terrifying? He remained there for a while, unsure of how much time had passed, trying to gather himself, to steel himself against the world.

Marriage… Something he had never considered… Now forced into his hands. That was the power of a Monarch he supposed. Threaten to toss everyone he cared for in prison if Cas didn’t marry him… It seemed as if Dean took after his father more than the staff that worked close to him believed. How could anyone be that cruel? And yet… Cas’ hand lifted to brush his fingers against his lips. He didn’t think that was everything to the man. No… there had to be more. Dean was known to bed his fair share of Omegas through the years, everyone knew that and his rise to power probably wouldn’t change that. Could Cas handle that knowledge as his Queen? Well… He supposed that it didn’t really matter… The marriage would be for the Kingdom’s benefit not for an emotional connection. Who was he to turn down his duty? That’s exactly what it was, wasn’t it? His duty? He had taken an oath as Knight Commander to serve and protect the throne and do what was best for the Kingdom… As Queen he could do more than he ever could as Commander…

The thought seemed to settle much of his worries and he pushed to his feet. He had a lot to do before morning.

The next morning, King Dean woke early, his bed empty. He sighed, he didn’t know the last time he had fallen asleep by himself, but he had Castiel to think about. It wouldn’t do the Omega’s trust much good for his Alpha to be sleeping with anyone he chooses. He gets washed and dressed. Dressing in his finest formalwear, trying to look as handsome as possible. He even tamed his hair. He moved into his office, where his breakfast and a new stack of paperwork, almost up to his shoulders was waiting for him. He took a deep sigh as he grabbed a slice of toast and the first documents to read through.

Cas didn’t bother to sleep more than maybe an hour or two before washing and dressing. He didn’t bother trying to tame his messy dark locks. For a moment however he paused to stare at his usual uniform and armor, suddenly feeling a bit naked despite his layers of formal ware. How long had it been since he had been in public without the thin layer of metal? It didn’t really matter, he supposed. He gave a heavy sigh, pulling on his cloak and taking a glance in the mirror. He looked tired and a bit worn down but otherwise he supposed he was… passable for a noble… He still didn’t understand what the King was thinking but he supposed it was best to just accept it without question. He moved to collect his reports and headed out to meet the man in question, ignoring the strange look he received from his men at the change of attire.

Dean stayed in his office, working slowly through his paperwork. He didn’t check the time, concentrating on the piles of paper in front of him. Even though his hair was neat to start with, it slowly returned to its usual ruffled-self, as he ran his fingers through it. All through his paperwork, Dean’s mind constantly returned to Castiel. How would he react, now he had time to digest his proposal? He wondered if he had come across to forceful, he would have to rectify it once Castiel comes with even more paperwork.

The guards inside the palace allowed the Knight Commander to pass without nothing more than a respectful nod, or a slight bow while the servants seemed to hurry out of his way bowing and scraping as they always did. He really did hate that. He came from the same background as them. He gave an audible huff, ignoring them the best he could. He needed to get use to it if he were to become Queen. Still by the time that he managed to reach the Man in Waiting he was already in a foul mood, shooting the younger man a glare as he announced the King was expecting him. The beta nodded, rushing into the large office to announce the Knight Commander properly.

Dean waved his hand to dismiss the guard, not looking up from his paperwork, as he read the fine print of a subsection of a clause in a by-law. He held his finger up, as he asked for Castiel’s patience, and pointed to the plush seat opposite the desk. He hummed as he grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note on it, before pushing it all to one side and leaning back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. “I hate Wednesdays. They’re always the busiest day of the week.” He sighed as he finally looked up at Castiel. “How was your night, anyway?” He asked, noting the bags under the Omega’s eyes.

Cas brushed by the servant, moving into the room and remaining silent at the King’s indication. He moved towards the chair but didn’t sit, preferring to stand as he waited for the man’s attention. “Pleasant. Thank you, Sire.” Cas replied simply before offering out the stack of paperwork in his hand. “The recommendations you requested, Your Majesty.” He offered. “Along with a complete assessment of each soldier’s strengths and weakness, service records and history.” He explained. “You will also find a suggested time to address the men about the… situation.” He added. “Along with a number of soldiers for your own entourage and the list you requested for my own.”

“Castiel...” Dean said gently. “Please sit. You’re making me exhausted, just watching you. I- need to apologise about how I conducted myself last night. It was incredibly wrong to push myself onto you like that. Sometimes... I still think of myself as a Prince, and what I said would have completely different meaning. Please sit and allow us to discuss this as one human to another.” He said softly, hating to see how badly he affected Castiel.

Cas pursed his lips but complied, sinking down into the lush chair but keeping his spine straight. He was exhausted and couldn’t afford to get too comfortable. Still, the King’s words were a bit soothing; was the Omega’s discomfort that obvious. “Of course, Sire.” He nodded obediently.

“I know, nothing I say will excuse my behaviour last night. I should never have given you that ultimatum. It was wrong and abusive of me.” Dean looked to his forgotten breakfast and passed over the last slice of cold toast. “I know it’s cold and forgotten, but you seem to still need it. Have you eaten at all this morning?” He asked softly, hoping to help Castiel relax around him.

“Oh, no thank you, Your Majesty.” Castiel responded. He hadn’t bothered to eat but honestly, with everything that was going on he didn’t think he could stomach it. “Though, I wouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You /are/ an Alpha, Sire, and I an Omega. It is only nature.” He offered though he still didn’t care for it much.

“Castiel I insist. Please relax. Please eat.” Dean said softly. He pushed more papers to the side and rests his hands on the desk. “What I did to you was wrong. So how about I change it slightly, if you’d agree to it, otherwise, we can discuss another option.” Dean said softly. “Does that sound... agreeable to you?” He asked, not wanting to push the Omega.

“I really rather not, Your Grace.” He replied to the offer of food once more, as stubborn as ever. Still, he listened to the man intently, relaxing a bit at the man’s sincerity. “I am always open for discussion, Your Majesty.” Cas reassured with a nod willing to hear him out.

Dean hummed, “instead of jumping straight to marriage, or anything too intimate, how about a very quiet date.” He suggested. “You can choose the time and date. And until we decide whether you want us to be serious or not, you can keep your job as Commander. If you’d be interested.” Dean offered. “Or I can promote you to being a Royal Aide, dedicated to welfare and development of either my own personal guards, or the soldiers in general.” Dean offered, softly.

Cas considered the words for a moment, falling silent as he weighed his options. “Thank you, Sire. You are very generous… However…” He sighed. “I don’t think that I can continue as Knight Commander if this is to be the plan.” He admitted. “I fear, I cannot in good conscious remain Knight Commander if we are going to court; even discretely. Rumors among the palace staff spreads rapidly and the King with an assumed Alpha could be considered scandalous. It is best to inform my men of my status and correct the assumption once and for all; and while I trust some will remain loyal the Kingdom can not rely on a divided force. Yes, it would be best to address my men and step down. Though, I be most grateful to take the role of a Royal Aide.” He agreed, the tension in his shoulders fading slightly.

King Dean hummed and smiled. “You are wise.” He complimented. “I trust you, implicitly. You will make an excellent Royal Aide.” He smiled, he watched Castiel slowly relax, his eyes starting to droop. “Is there anything you would like to ask me, as your King, or as another person. You may ask me anything you wish, multiple anything’s.” Dean smiled, wanting Castiel to relax more.

The Knight Commander seemed to consider his options once more, always reserved. “I suppose I am curious as to why your choosing me, Your Majesty.” He admitted. “There are plenty of Omegas from neighboring kingdoms that would make a strong tie and a good Queen. They are far younger as well.” He pointed out.

“Though many don’t have reservations about it, I do not like to lay with a minor. Plus, I have met and dated each of the of-age Omegas from the nearest Kingdoms and none have what you have. None are strong and diligent like you, none are as brave and wise as you. You are unique, Castiel. If you will allow me the opportunity, I would like to show you how unique you are.” Dean explains softly, keeping his hands where Castiel could see them on top of the desk, but leaning back in his chair. “My father wouldn’t approve of myself dating... someone not of Royal Blood, but I am not my father, and I promised myself a long time ago that I would champion a Kingdom where Omegas get just as many rights as Alphas.” Dean explains, “we are all humans. There is nothing separating us, bar your ability to produce a child. An ability I admire. And as equals, the law should stand up to questioning.

The words were moving, to say the least but were they true? The Omega’s gaze narrowed as he eyed the King, considering him for a moment. Dean didn’t seem to be dishonest by any means and yet the words were still hard to believe. “If I may ask, My Lord…. What made you make such a promise?”

“Before I presented, I saw how my father treated my mother. It was... not something a child should ever see. It was not pretty, or sexy, or consensual.” Dean frowned, and looked down at his hands, before sighing and looking back up at Castiel. “So... I promised myself that if I presented Alpha and when I became King, I would do everything in my power to stop that kind of... unhealthy relationship. Allow Omegas to divorce, allow them to become soldiers or Commanders, if they so wished. And certainly give them the same education as Alphas and Betas. I wish to give them every right that an Alpha or Beta has.” Dean explains. “If you were to become my Queen, or anyone who would be my Queen, I would ask them to draw up the laws, governing the rights to Omegas. With the help of my brother, to aide in the legal jargon and clauses.” He smiled softly, hoping Castiel would see the truth in his eyes.

Castiel had seen the way the King had treated the Queen and he certainly couldn’t fault Dean’s opinion; it was quite noble actually. Perhaps, he had been too quick to judge the man. “Did you know?” He asked simply, glancing away. Dean had pressed him until he was forced to admit his status… surely he had guessed or was it just that obvious that Castiel was hiding something?

“Did I know you were an Omega?” Dean asked softly. “I had my suspicions,” Dean admitted. “It was mostly the shape of your face. You have soft cheekbones and a smaller Adam’s Apple, usually found in Omegas. Plus, you are only just regulation size, I’m not saying all Alphas are well above it, but generally Omegas are shorter.” Dean explained. “Finally, it was the way you flustered, when I tried to joke. Most Alphas would laugh it off, or politely joke back, but you turned bright red.”

Cas cleared his throat awkwardly at that. “Yes well… It isn’t everyday that the King makes such comments.” He defended gently before shrugging. “I suppose if it is that simple to discover me I should be surprised that it hasn’t happened until now.” He sighed. He fell silent once more before turning back toward a more comfortable subject. “Perhaps we should discuss my replacement?” He offered.

“The soldiers you command, won’t have seen anything. They now their heads as you pass. Their jobs are to follow orders. My... goal was to get to understand you. I was observing you.” Dean explained, “your secret is safe until you tell them.” He hummed and grabbed the files Castiel had brought in. “I wish to read through these first, form my own opinions of the men, before we discuss who is the most viable.” Dean explains, “if you have no further questions for me, then go through that door.” He says pointing to a plain side door, the room will be guarded, please don’t leave until I come collect, but in the mean time, you may do whatever you please in the room.” Dean explains. The door he pointed to, lead to his bedroom. He could see that Castiel had barely slept last night, if at all, and knew he was entirely to blame. “Do you have any more questions for me, though first?”

Cas glanced up at the door, lips pursing in a thin line once more before shaking his head. “No, Your Majesty.” He answered before pushing to his feet. He supposed it didn’t matter /where/ he was. He could send one of his servants for his second. There was still a lot of work to be done before he stepped down. No use in wasting precious day light.

Dean looked up at Castiel, as he opened the first report. “And don’t think about working. You worked throughout the night. You need rest from work, or you will make mistakes.” Dean orders.

Cas paused midstep at the order. “So much for ‘doing whatever you please’” He commented before he could stop himself. He tensed the moment the words escaped him, glancing at Dean to gauge his reaction.

“Castiel...” Dean hissed, warningly. “You are neither use nor ornament, if you do not rest. Now go before I have you punished again for insubordination.” Dean ordered.

Castiel shot him a subtle glare before giving a very formal bow. “Of course, Your Majesty. Forgive me.” He replied stiff, tone even as he turned on his heel and shouldered the door open before disappearing.

Dean shook his head and turned back to the reports that Castiel had created. He wasn’t sure if the Commander had worked out which room, he had been sent to, but nonetheless, Castiel would surely work out the significance of why he was sent there.

The door closed behind him leaving the Omega facing the large four poster bed and lavish furniture of the King’s bedchamber. The Alpha’s scent clung to air heavily making the omega flush. It took a moment to gather himself before his annoyance flared once more. Still, he couldn’t disobey a direct order… At least not obviously. He moved towards the large windows, throwing them open to allow him to breath a bit easily before sinking onto the window sill. He waited for one of the servants before ordering them to collect one of his men. He’d simply have them work for him… ‘train’ them on more aspects of the job.

A few hours, and a migraine-inducing amount of reading later, Dean has finally read through all the reports, Castiel had provided for him. He stood and stretched, going to the door Castiel had gone through a few hours before. He knocked on it and opened it a crack. “Commander, are you free?” He asked, not looking into the room.

Castiel glanced up from where he had allowed his head to lean against the frame of the window as he listened to his underling read out his report. His heart skipped a beat as he pushed to his feet quickly, motioning for the man to leave in a hurry before replying. “Of course, Your Grace.” He replied after a few seconds.

Dean opened the door further and stepped into the room. He saw Castiel sat by the open window and stopped in his tracks. “Oh, I never thought. Please forgive me, I never thought just about just how strong my scent would be in here.” Dean said softly. “Come back through into the other room. We have much to discuss.” He says softly.

The Knight Commander didn’t reply as he followed the Monarch, moving back into the office and sinking down into the chair he had taken up before. “What would you like to address first, Sire?” He asked, his exhaustion underlining his voice slightly.

“Why you did not relax when you were alone. You sound exhausted, and it’s become even more evident on your complexion.” Dean explained gently. He moved around the room slowly lighting incense candle, providing a cozy warmth and a heady smell to the room.

“Alone in an Alpha’s bed chambers… Alone with his heavy scent everywhere and none of the herbs I usually use to ignore such things; as you ordered, Sire.” He pointed out simply, too tired to worry about being rude. “With very little time before I must allow another to take over my life’s work.”

“Were you working?” Dean asked softly, his voice barely a calm whisper. If he hadn’t have had a good nights sleep the night before, Dean would be finding it incredibly hard not to fall asleep, with the warmth of the room and the heady smells produced by the incense.

It was obvious that Cas was having his own problems fighting it, eyes growing heavy before snapping open repeatedly. “No, Your Grace.” He replied honestly…. He /hadn’t/ been… He /had/ been listening to someone /else/ work.

Dean hummed, keeping his tone even and deep as he spoke. “If I find out you have been lying to me, or misspeaking the truth to me, Castiel...” Dean trailed off. “But never mind, I trust you. You are to become my Royal Aide. I know you would never give me false or misleading information in such an important role. But let’s discuss your role as a Royal Aide. You will be receiving new work attire, and as you are to stop taking your hormone blockers I am curious to see whether you choose the Alpha or Omega attire. Once in the new role, you shall either address me as King Dean, or Sire. The choice is yours, but as you speak about me to someone else, I shall always be your Majesty.” Dean rambled, hoping that his voice would send Castiel to sleep. “Once a week, I will be holding a meal with all my Aides, at this you may choose to come as my Aide or as my partner.” He added on.

“You’ll punish me for insubordination… Yeah… I know.” Cas mumbled, too tired to realize he wasn’t filtering his words properly. Still, Cas listened closely to the words, doing his best to ignore the small slight about withholding information. “Of course, Sire.” He acknowledged with a hidden yawn. “New work attire… Alpha or Omega, of my choosing…. Address King Dean or Sire… Anyone else ‘His Majesty’… Once a week… meal with Aides… Choose either Aide or partner.” He nodded the words slurred as he tried to stay focused.

Dean held back a chuckle, finding Castiel cute as he babbled back to him. “Unfortunately there are also rules of how to dress and address me when we’re together. When we’re on a date, you must wear Omega, formal attire.” Dean continued with his deep, quiet voice. “When we’re in private you may wear any clothes you see fit. Whilst on a date you may call me Dean, or a term of endearment if you wish you. Whilst in private, you may call me Dean or a term of endearment again. Unless we are speaking about work, then you will call me King Dean or Sire. If we are in public but not on a date, again I am King Dean or Sire.” Dean explained, watching Castiel. He smirked and dropped his voice even quieter. “I love you.” He added, wondering how much Castiel was taking on board.

Cas gave a grunt in response but gave a small nod, leaning on his elbow, resting his cheek in his hand. “Rules about dress…. Date, omega formal…” He began each pause between the words growing longer and longer. “Private, see fit… Dean…” He grumbled out, the word leaving his lips for the first time, gravely and low. “Work… Sire… Love you.” He acknowledged, the words barely distinguishable as chin rested on his chest and a soft snore escaped him.

Dean finally gave a low chuckle as he gently wrapped the cloak around Castiel, and laid his own cloak on top of him. “You really should have slept, Castiel, then you wouldn’t have gotten so exhausted. All I’ve been trying to do is help you.” He spoke quietly as he picked the Omega up and carried him out of the room, into the cooler corridor, he carried him down the halls and into the solider’s quarters, searching for Castiel’s room.

“You should have learned not to mess with me by now, gorgeous! Then you wouldn’t have lost all your-“ Gabriel called over his shoulder as he rushed down the hall, a wad of someone else’s clothes in his arms; a large Alpha barely covered by a sheet wrapped around his lower half rushing after him. The short Omega was so preoccupied by his prank that he almost ran into the King, pulling up just short in his haste, and taking in the sight of the Knight Commander cradled in his arm. “Gabriel! You little-“ The Alpha growled before Gabriel managed to turn and toss his clothes in his face, blinding him long enough for the small Omega to duck into a nearby room. “This way, Your Majesty.” He urged motioning for the Monarch to follow.

[Beginning] // [Next]

#Destiel #Destiel rp #dean winchester #castiel novak #roleplay #rp #dean/cas #dean winchester/castiel #Supernatural #suspicious nature #Fantasy Kingdom AU #ABo #A/b/o #ABO AU

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n-jadaddy · 6 years ago

Text

Wadjet

Erik x Goddess!Reader

Enjoy <3

edited: 8/7/21

“Now N’jadaka, I am trusting you will be on your best behavior.” T’Challa said while Fixing his cuffs and adjusting his suit. “We are going to visit a very important person and I’d rather not make a bad impression, it’s been years since they’ve been to a meeting with the other tribe leaders and I don’t wan-“

“Alright damn! I get it. Talking to me like you my mama and shit. I know how to behave” Erik said, looking up from straightening out his own suit. “And why are we out here dressed like undercover penguins anyway, this suit tight as hell,” he continued while adjusting the crotch area of his dress pants. Both men were extremely well dressed, T’Challa wearing a black suit with platinum accents and Erik wearing a similar one with gold accents. “I told you N’Jadaka, we are going to visit the head of the , we are trying to convince her to come to the tribal meetings more often. On their land formal dress is the norm around royalty, our attire is a sign of respect.” T’Challa explained while placing the silver necklace to activate his suit around his neck. “Alright, alright. If it ain’t no smoke, won’t be no smoke” Erik did the same with his gold necklace, tucking his father’s chain into his black dress shirt. T’Challa and Erik head out toward the Royal Talon Fighter, Okoye and Ayo following closely behind them.

“Where to, my King,” Okoye asked, prepared to put the location into the ship's navigation system.

“Lower Egypt, the Delta region” T’Challa answered, “The ship will not get any closer than that, we will have to walk the rest of the way” he began to adjust himself in his seat next to Erik.

“And why is that? You didn’t tell me about no walkin’ I ain’t got on the shoes for that!” Erik said with a scowl on his face.

“Vibranium does not work there, the ship will cease to function, so will our kimoyo beads, and even our suits will not activate. The palace is built from a type of material that counteracts the power of Vibranium. Which is the other reason why we are visiting- to find out what it is and bring it back to Shuri. That's why you are here.”

“You tryna do that and gain the trust of the leader to come to the meetings too.” Erik smacked his teeth, “sounds like a snake move” T’Challa laughed wholeheartedly.

“Oh, trust me N’Jadaka, the only snake present will be her”

After two hours of travel, the talon fighter powered down and everyone had to walk the rest of the way, shoes in hand. The walk was overall peaceful, the sun not beating down on them too much but it was hot enough to see heat waves. However, there were many complaints from Erik. “why the fuck is it this hot?!” “where the fuck is this place?!!” Many of his questions went ignored by Dora and T’Challa.

“Medjay ahead, we have arrived,” Okoye announced. The outside of the palace was enormous, it was a traditional pyramid, seemingly, nothing special. Once they reached the entrance, they were greeted by it’s guards.

They were Statuesque, standing strong and confident welcoming their new visitors. Their heads were covered with solid gold masks the shape of dogs with black script embedded into the edges, emerald colored fabric adorned their waist secured by a solid gold belt. The only detail setting them apart from Anubis was the green reflective chest plates adorned across their chest, also gold with inscriptions. Both guards held weapons, spears, very similar to the Dora but with a green gem centered between the blade and the bar.

“Good Evening, King T’Challa” they said in unison, “It is very good to see you again,” said the one to the left. “Yes, it has been a while” continued the one to the right. “We hope you enjoy your visit” with that, they bow and turn then slam their spears against the sandstone beneath them. The hieroglyphs on the borders of the entrance began to glow a foreign bright green. Their panther suits shone a faint gleam, the same green color, along with their kimoyo beads, then the floor started to rumble and shake. The entrance had opened, “You may enter” the Medjay said.

“Thank you so much ladies,” T’Challa says with a smile as Erik and Dora enter the palace. They let out an unprofessional school girl giggle as the doors close “no problem”. The group walked the dark corridor, the only light sources being the torches aligned the walls that illuminated the hieroglyphs engraved into the walls.

“Is it me, or was that weird as hell?” Erik looked back to the doors then at T’Challa while putting his shoes on.

“They were just nervous, it is very uncommon for them to have male visitors,” T’Challa answered, “up ahead, the throne room”

Erik was not talking about the Medjay, he meant the strange reaction the Vibranium had when they entered the hallway. Everything about this place seemed ‘off’ to him, and the sudden urge to cough didn't make it any better. ‘Why was the air so thick in here?’ Erik resisted and held his composure and decided to take a different approach.

“No men, huh? That’s why they are so unprofessional. They need some order around here!” his voice was harsh and forceful, purposely saying it out loud enough to echo through the corridor.

His statement caused Dora and T’Challa to look at him in shock at his disrespect, of course, Erik didn’t mean it. He was just testing the waters, T’Challa needed information and he would get it for him.

“N’Jadaka! I told you before we left to be respectful” T’Challa gritted through his teeth and said an angry mother would do to her child.

“What? They disrespected me first! Greeting you at the door like I don’t exist. I’m somebody too!” He said even louder as they walked into the throne room. It was enormous, solid gold plating on every inch of the walls, fragments of the same strange green jewels scattered within the plating. In the middle of the room, a large throne. Unlike the surrounding area, it was a solid black with larger stones embedded into the arms of the empty chair.

“And look at this! You were pressed about us being late, shawty ain’t even here!” Erik raised and dropped his arms dramatically. The Medjay guarding the room turn in unison to look at him, and slam their spears against the floor, speckles of gold float in the air around them but more concentrated around the throne.

“Disrespect?”

A mysterious honeyed voice bounced off the walls in the room causing Erik to look around in shock.

“Who said that?” Erik turned and continued to look around the room, he turned to T’Challa. He mouthed “kneel” then bent on one knee, crossing his right arm across his chest. The Dora did the same. Erik did not listen.

The gold follicles morphed into a woman, over 6ft tall with beautiful dark skin and a curvaceous body. Her hair was held up in a green head wrap and her body draped with expensive fabrics and jewels, the top of her eyelids painted over in gold. Her arms and chest were exposed, allowing the hieroglyphic tattoos to be seen. Erik was mesmerized by her beauty, he's never seen a woman as beautiful as her before, but he kept his reaction at bay.

“My apologies, they are only children. They are not familiar with you or know of your title, N’Jadaka son of N’Jobu. It was my fault I should have informed them, hopefully, you can forgive me.” The woman said genuinely looking into Erik’s eyes, he was transfixed on hers; they were the same green as the gems with inhuman slits in them. Snake eyes.

“It’s aight,” he said just above a whisper but enough for her to hear, they both stared into each other’s eyes “You look just like your father” Erik was taken back, he scrunched his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by T’Challa.

“Goddess Wadjet, so nice to see you again” T’Challa and the goddess hug each other with smiles on their faces.

“Oh quit the formalities T’Challa calls me Y/N” She smiled “Okoye, Ayo looking as beautiful as ever” She embraced them both.

“Now, I am sure you all are tired have a seat so we can discuss”

T’Challa and Y/N reminisce and laugh together while Erik looks over the room and tries to make sense of everything, you weren't just some queen and this wasn't just someplace, T’Challa was serious when he said you were important.

He burned holes in the side of your face gaining your attention. You turned towards him and grinned, “It is rude to stare, perhaps taking a picture would last longer” the room burst in a fit of giggles from everyone but Erik, just a small smirk from him. He couldn't get over how stunning you were, the way your lips moved when you spoke every word clearly.

Everything about you put him in a trance, he felt a familiar twitch in his pants and adjusted himself in his seat, looking away from you and towards the wall. Face retorting back into a frown he needed to focus.

“Now that you’ve buttered me up, tell me what you want from me.” Your entire demeanor changed, you sat back on your throne and folded your legs. Kings onl visit you when they need something, like your efforts weren't already enough.

“Well, I was thinking. Since you play such an important part in keeping Wakanda safe I want you to come to the meetings with the tribal leaders, we even got M’Baku to come to them more often, we are just missing you” T’Challa looked at you with pleading eyes. You knew this was coming, ruler after ruler begged you to come out of the safety of your home, you were never interested. You were the protector of Kings, and you'd rather do it from a distance. However, T’Challa was different from his father, and if M’Baku attended a meeting then you had to see what else had changed since T’Challa became king.

“Fine. 30 years of refusal is enough, I might as well attend” T’Challa nodded his head clasping his hands together and Erik looked in surprise ‘that was easy’ he thought, he thought she’d put up more of a fight.

Although your agreement to T’Challa’s proposal excited him, you noticed that he didn’t seem content with only that. “You don't seem satisfied, what more do you want?” They always want more. His eyebrows furrowed, he thought about it then opened his mouth to speak..

“Wel-” T’challa started but was interrupted by Erik.

“We want to know what your palace is built out of, what's all this flashy green shit that fucks with the Vibranium” Erik said bluntly. Eyeing you then jumping out of his seat, he took two long strides toward you. The Medjay crossed their spears in front of you to prevent him from getting any closer. You raise your hand to dismiss them. Allowing Erik to come forward, you stood before him looking down at him. “Asim, Aziza. Please escort T’Challa and Dora Milaje to the guest rooms, it is getting rather dark. I'd rather them not travel home tonight.” You said not breaking eye contact.

“Yes Goddess” Asim and Aziza swiftly lead everyone out of the throne room, T’Challa looks back to Erik and nods before leaving.

Oh yes, you thought, finally, the two of you are alone. You’d have been thinking of Erik the same way he’d been thinking of you. You’d been watching over him for years and seeing what a gorgeous man he's grown into made you clench your thighs. Strong and demanding. Just the way you liked them Being gifted with the power to be feared and respected by all men made you desire just the opposite, and here he was in all his glory.

“I see your attitude still tends to get the best of you. You could have asked me nicely and I would have been much obliged to tell you.” You start to circle him, watching the way his lip twitched in an upward scowl, exposing the gold on his teeth, he growled out a harsh, insincere ‘Please’. You roll your snake-like eyes playfully, satisfied with the response. For now, at least.

Placing your decorated hands into Eriks, you show him the rings that covered your fingers, some silver some gold. They all commonly held the shiny green stone in the center, the smallest of the rings resting above your knuckle on your pinky finger, hardly hanging on.

“This is Malachite, The stone of transformation” Erik’s hands remained still as he tried to resist the urge to stroke the back of your soft hands with his thumbs. His eyes trailed from your hands to your face, he was able to admire your beauty from up close. Noticing the small unique details of your appearance, like the faint gleam of your fangs as you continued to speak.

“The Malkata was built over it during Pharaoh’s rule. He did nothing to preserve it so when he perished I took control of the production and distribution of the gem. Just as Vibranium thrives in wakanda, Malachite thrives here in Malkata.” You rub your hand across his gold necklace, the Vibranium starting to vibrate and glow. Erik was taken back at his suit's reaction, snapping out of his trance, becoming defensive.

“That ain’t it, yo creepy-ass doing something else with the Malachite, Vibranium is the strongest material on this planet how can some ordinary gemstone enable it.” he asked, tilting his head.

You chuckle and step away. “The answer is simple.” You thought for a moment, comically taping your index finger on your defined cheek. “It’s none of your business” placing your hands on your hips. Erik stepped closer putting his arms around your waist pulling you tighter against his pelvic area. Whispering into your ear he says “Anything that messes with my family and my country is my business, so why don’t you be a good girl and tell me what's up, and maybe I'll give you a little something in return. His hands traveled lower cupping the under area of your ass.” you scoffed and pushed him away. Were you aroused? Of course, you were it's been centuries since you’ve had sex, but there was no way in hell you were going to share the secrets of your country for your own selfish needs.

Your patience was running thin.

“I am no whore” you turned to walk away. Not now at least. “Aye where you go-” he grabs your hand turning you around. You stare back up at him with a paralyzing look, sealing his lips. He couldn't speak even if he tried only murmurs and grunts coming from him. His body had gone stiff too.

“N’Jadaka, I am sure you are no fool. You grab me like that again and I will not hesitate to rip your arms right out of the sockets and beat you with them” As of that moment Erik did not feel threatened ‘you could beat this dick’ he thought. Your anger and frustration were so sexy to him he didn't even care that you could kill him at any moment. You could smell his arousal and stepped away, ‘What a strange man’ you thought. Raising our hand, you released Erik from paralysis.

“You may see yourself out” walking away you turn one last time to Erik “And tell T’Challa I will not be attending the next meeting, I'm busy.”

Erik carefully watched you leave the room. Once he was sure you were gone, he dropped his act and smirked, slipping his hands into his pockets fiddling with the tiny ring he had taken from your hands. He had done his part, now needed to figure out how he was going to tell T’challa he fucked up the first part of the deal.

#erik killmonger #erik killmonger x reader #black panther #n'jadaka x reader #black panther x reader

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thevikingsheaux · 6 years ago

Text

Fire and Ice

Part 2

A/N: So I guess I have a disclaimer before this series goes any further. These characters (that are by no means my own) may occasionally be out of character from their canon selves because it’s a crossover and I just want to put my own spin on the story. Also, I made a basic character guide so you can keep all the names straight.

Primary characters involved: Ivar, Hvitserk, Daenerys

Warning: a little NSFW, 18+ only

Masterlist

Fire and Ice Character Guide

The Unsullied in the group closed the dungeon after they all exited and pushed Ivar and Hvitserk forward, after Daenerys and the others. They all reentered the Pyramid and proceeded back to the throne room. When they arrived, Daenerys went to walk up the stairs to the throne but turned around about halfway up and addressed Ivar and Hvitserk.

“You will be taken to one of the empty chambers where you will be given a bed and meals until I decide what to do with you. Your Vikings can return to your ships and find accommodations elsewhere in Meereen, but if I hear they lay a finger on any of my subjects they will be executed. I swear it by all the gods,” she said coldly. Hvitserk glared down at Ivar while Ivar scowled at Daenerys.

They were shuffled through a maze of hallways before they came to a room with meager furnishings. There were only two beds and a table and a few candles scattered throughout the room. The Unsullied barely closed the door before Hvitserk started berating Ivar. “If you had just kept your fucking mouth shut we wouldn’t be her prisoners right now!” he yelled.

Ivar simply rolled his eyes at Hvitserk. “Of course we would brother. If I were her I would do the exact same thing, even if I hadn’t been disrespected. I wanted to provoke her so she would show us her dragons before detaining us. My plan worked.”

Ivar’s words spurred renewed anger from Hvitserk. “Do you really think it wise to fuck with a woman who has DRAGONS?!” he shouted. “I cannot believe you are so quick to start a plan that will surely end with our heads on stakes. I will not take part in your schemes because I like living, thank you very much,” he said angrily.

“Oh Hvitserk, you’ll come around soon. I know you will. As soon as you ride one of those dragons you will understand my feelings exactly,” Ivar said calmly. “Now shut up so I can go to sleep.” Hvitserk glowered at Ivar but said nothing as he sat down on one of the beds. Ivar settled into the other one and closed his eyes. Hvitserk reclined onto the pillows and stared at the ceiling, still fuming, but eventually, he fell asleep as well.

While the brothers were in their room arguing, Daenerys and her advisors strategized in her chambers. Lord Varys, Ser Barristan Selmy, and Daario Naharis were all there, awaiting Daenerys. They all served as her advisors and loyal allies. When Daenerys entered the room, followed by Jorah, Tyrion, Missandei, and Grey Worm, they all made a small bow to her.

Varys began speaking first. “My little birds have informed me of the Viking ships that are anchored in the harbor and I heard that you just met with two of them. I have heard tales of the father of Ivar and Hvitserk. They call him Ragnar Lothbrok. He was a mighty warrior and respected king,” he said. “Tell me more about him,” Daenerys demanded.

“Ragnar was a well known Viking throughout the parts of the world that he raided and even in parts that he didn’t get to. He had five sons - Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar. Ivar was born a cripple and that is why his legs do not work. Hvitserk is an excellent warrior and fearless in battle, but his brother Bjorn is said to be even better. He’s untouchable, hence the nickname ‘Bjorn Ironside.’ The other sons of Ragnar are also expert fighters and command a great deal of respect among their people. I recommend treading carefully with them,” Varys explained.

The expressions on Jorah and Tyrion’s faces grew darker. Tyrion humphed and in a dark tone said, “I knew taking them to your dragons was a bad idea.” Daenerys shot him a glare as shock crossed Varys’ face. “You took Ivar and Hvitserk Ragnarsson to see your dragons?” he asked incredulously. Everyone in the room was quiet until Daario spoke up. “I don’t think it was a bad decision,” he said, defending Daenerys. Daario often sided with Daenerys because he was deeply in love with her and admired her greatly.

Even though they also questioned the prudence of her decision, Barristan and Jorah stayed quiet, as did Missandei and Grey Worm. They could see that Daenerys was already irritated by Tyrion and Varys’ challenges to her choice.

“What do you think we should do with them?” she asked the gaggle of men that she considered her advisors. Despite her annoyance with their current disapproval, she did value their suggestions.

Again, Varys spoke first. “I think it would be wise to keep them near, but do not confide in them or reveal anything more than necessary. If you want to take back Westeros, they do not need to be privy to your plans. I have heard Ivar the Boneless wants to conquer the world.”

All but Barristan, Missandei, and Grey Worm nodded in agreement. “My Queen, I think you should turn them all away immediately. The longer you allow them to stay, the longer they have to plot and find your weaknesses. Make no mistake, they are self-interested and are unlikely to side with you,” Barristan warned.

Daenerys considered their arguments before turning to Missandei. “I have had enough of the opinions of men. Missandei, what do you think I should do?” She looked down and said, “Your Grace, I cannot presume to offer advice on what to do in such a serious situation.” Daenerys’ expression softened. “You can and will, Missandei. I value your advice highly.”

Missandei met Daenerys’ eyes and said, “Well I think they are both right. You should keep them close but I am certain they are very self-interested and will not be truly loyal to you regardless of what they may claim. They will surely try to find your weaknesses but that is why you need to keep them close and monitor them.”

Daenerys nodded and thanked her for her input. “That is what we shall do then. It is settled.” Everyone watched Daenerys as she exited the room followed by Daario. Varys and Tyrion exchanged a look and then exited the room through a different door together.

Daenerys and Daario made their way to her room and as soon as the door closed, Daario rushed to her and kissed her deeply. They swiftly undressed and landed on her bed where they made love for over an hour.

When they finished, they laid next to each other quietly. When Daenerys spoke, her voice was gentle but firm. “Daario I am going to ask you to do something that may be difficult for you.” He looked over at her and said, “Anything for you my Queen.” She smiled softly and said, “Daario I need you to return to Astapor and Yunkai to restore and maintain my power there. Varys informed me yesterday that the Masters have attempted to retake the cities. I cannot allow them to enslave the cities once more and there is no one I trust more than you to act in my best interest.”

His face dropped. He was not expecting Daenerys to send him away and he was a little hurt that she even considered it. “Anything but that,” he whispered. “I cannot stand to be that far away from you.” Daenerys stroked his cheek and said simply, “You must.” He exhaled deeply, clearly dejected, before getting out of her bed and dressing. “If you wish it,” he said with cloudy eyes.

He left the room and Daenerys expected to feel sad that he would be going away but she found that she did not. It surprised and troubled her to discover that her feelings for Daario were not deep whatsoever. She supposed that she would never truly love again. Her first husband, Khal Drogo, had meant the world to her, but he died from her actions. Daenerys had allowed a “healer,” who was, in reality, a witch, to tend to Drogo after he had fallen ill from a battle wound. She cursed him and stole his soul, leaving Daenerys to end his suffering body. Her heart shattered when he died, and when she lost Drogo’s baby, but it hardened and transformed her. As she thought back on those memories she tried to make peace with the fact that she would probably never have another love like what she had with Drogo.

While Daenerys dressed, she decided she would go see the two sons of Ragnar she had in her possession without her advisors. She wanted to measure them up without the polluting presence her advisors would no doubt have. She slowly made her way to their chambers, thinking about what she would say once she got there.

Meanwhile, Hvitserk was lost in a dream featuring Daenerys riding him. He was grabbing at her soft hips as she bounced up and down and rubbed her fingers in small circles over her clit. Hvitserk was moaning and on the verge of cumming, both in the dream and in real life, when a knock on the door woke him up. At first, he was extremely disoriented, momentarily forgetting where he was, but quickly recovered when he saw Daenerys standing in the doorway.

She had her eyes on Hvitserk’s pants and when he realized why he blushed deeply and hurried to cover himself with a pillow. She met his eyes and arched one eyebrow, making her curiosity obvious. Hvitserk looked away, embarrassed, and threw his other pillow at Ivar. Ivar jerked awake and began to roar, “What the HELL Hvits-,” before noticing Daenerys was in the room.

“Follow me,” she said and turned around to walk down the hall. Ivar and Hvitserk looked at each other before getting up to follow her. The only sound was of Hvitserk’s footsteps and Ivar’s crutches until Hvitserk’s stomach growled loudly with hunger. “You will have food soon enough, do not worry,” Daenerys called quietly over her shoulder. She was trying to avoid being discovered by any one of her many advisors.

She emerged on one of the Great Pyramid’s balconies overlooking the city and began to study the comings and goings of her subjects. Night was beginning to fall and torches were starting to be lit all throughout the city. Ivar and Hvitserk stood in the doorways, studying her intricate braids and backside. Hvitserk’s mind wandered back to his dream while Ivar thought carefully about how best to play his cards.

“Do you know why I am called the Unburnt and the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea? Do you know how I came to power here and freed the other cities in Slaver’s Bay?” Daenerys asked as she looked over her shoulder. They shook their head no. “I was once the wife of the great Khal Drogo, I was his Khaleesi, and our son was going to be ‘The Stallion that Mounted the World.’ A witch who wanted my unborn son dead used blood magic to kill him and stole my husband’s soul. She paid for her crime by being burnt at the stake which allowed my dragons to be born. When I lit the pyre she was tied to, I walked into the flames with my dragon eggs and emerged unburnt after the flames died with three baby dragons. You see, for dragon eggs to hatch, they must burn in flames while another living being is being burned alive in the same fire. A life for a life.” The brothers were listening intently to her story, completely transfixed.

Daenerys continued, “After my son and husband’s death, I had to flee Drogo’s khalasar, for they wanted me dead. They blamed me for what happened to him. I went to Qarth, where many people plotted against me and conspired to steal my dragons. I got them back and fled the city. After leaving I first freed the Unsullied in Astapor after I bought them and burned their Master alive. Then I went to Yunkai and freed the slaves with the help of Daario Naharis and his mercenary company called the Second Sons. Then I came here and catapulted the collars of all the freed slaves of Astapor and Yunkai into the city, a promise to the slaves of Meereen that if they sided with me that I would grant them freedom. When the Masters fell, I kept that promise.”

Hvitserk was mesmerized and amazed by her ferocious yet gentle heart. She was unafraid to get her way by any means necessary, but she did not use her power or dragons to become a tyrant. She used it for good, for freeing slaves and for helping the oppressed. Ivar respected her more now that he knew her story, but he wasn’t sure he agreed with her freeing all the slaves.

“But who do you have do your menial tasks like cleaning out toilets and such?” Ivar asked, truly bewildered. Daenerys looked at him with acid in her eyes. “I don’t need slaves to do my bidding. Those who are most thankful to me for freeing them want to serve me. They aren’t just afraid of me like I’m sure your servants are of you.” Ivar’s expression grew furious and Hvitserk had to intervene, just like the first time they met with Daenerys.

“Stop Ivar. Tread carefully” he muttered while shoving him. “Get off me, brother,” Ivar shot back before looking at Daenerys again. “What do you want from us, woman?” he spat out. “Why are you keeping us?”

Daenerys looked thoughtful for a moment before carefully choosing her words. “I do not know you and I do not know your motivations. You come armed for battle but do not appear to be attacking me. However, I am sure you know you are far outnumbered and that is why you haven’t ransacked the city. My advisors have informed me who your father was and the fame your family commands in the parts of the world you hail from. Since I have shared some of my life and exploits, I think you should reveal some of your own and help me understand what you want from me.”

Ivar narrowed his eyes, considering her demand, while Hvitserk leaned back on the doorframe. “We wanted to see for ourselves if the rumors we heard about dragons and their mother were true,” Ivar said. “As you know I am Ivar the Boneless. Some may say I am a cripple, but I believe it makes me stronger,” he said while gesturing to his legs. “I intend to be more famous than my father, the great Ragnar Lothbrok. He was not ruthless enough. All he wanted to do was travel the world and live in his own fantasies. He became soft with old age. In the end, he was murdered by a Christian king and my brothers and I avenged his death with the greatest Viking army the world had ever seen. My father would have liked you, Mother of Dragons,” he asserted. Ivar refused to call her his queen.

He was about to continue when a voice from inside the room interrupted the conversation. “My Queen?” Tyrion’s voice called out. Frustration crossed Daenerys’ face and she rolled her eyes because of the interruption. She was just getting to know this Ivar the Boneless and Hvitserk Ragnarsson, but Tyrion had to ruin it. He was always getting in the middle of something important.

To be continued

Tags: @zoe-nightshade21101 @laketaj24 @tephi101 @moondustmemories @grungyblonde @captstefanbrandt @vikingalexthedane @lol-haha-joke @voodoodollgirl @lisinfleur @ariellostatci @backstagepaige @oddsnendsfanfics @hallowed-heathen @supernaturalvikingwhore @alicedopey @missrobyn81 @anarchy-is-coming @whenimaunicorn @readsalot73

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anonwriter27 · 7 years ago

Text

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This: Chapter One

Under the homes of those who slept soundly; beneath the roots of trees that had been growing for centuries; below the ground where not a sound could penetrate; hidden in a man’s worst nightmare, sat the king of the underworld.

“Just for one day?”

“No.”

“An hour?”

“No.”

“Ten minutes?”

“No.”

“Fine, three hours..”

“That’s higher then your last three offers Jon.”

Not many people would test the king of the underworld. If his throne the size of the grandest of monuments failed to intimidate them, then the king himself would willingly oblige to strike fear in his subjects hearts.

He wore a cold expression most of the time, he would often rest his fist against his short beard as he listened to a mere mortal beg for another chance at life. He didn’t even look at them, his expression was always tired when they began to beg.

His hair was curly and dark, but in the faintest of lights it looked red, as though a few stray embers had woven themselves through each strand.

The few times his grace did look upon a helpless soul only occurred when that soul had tested him, tried his patience, or if their crime was truly despicable.

One such man waltzed into the grand hall and refused to bow before his new king. They called him Ramsay; he was an enemy to the gods and had disrespected them on more than one occasion. One god he dared to insult was the king’s sister, Sansa the goddess of women, marriage, and childbirth. He had attempted to rape her but her husband had made sure to send him to the underworld where he belonged.

The king had disagreed with this punishment, he had said it was too kind. He looked up at Ramsay, his cold blue eyes shot through any confident exterior the tyrant had to offer. And with the flick of his wrist, the king sent Ramsay to burn in a fire pit for all eternity.

No, not many men could speak idly to the king of the underworld and live to tell the tale. This however was no mere man, but Jon, king of the gods, and the king of the underworlds brother in law.

“Robb this isn’t healthy, don’t make me play the king card.” Jon said in a mock stern voice.

“You’re in my domain, I am your king when we are here.” Robb sighed, though he chuckled at his friends expense.

“I don’t like you being stuck down here with nothing but the dead to entertain you.” Jon began, he had started pacing like he always did when conflicted.

“Oddly enough the dead don’t particularly enjoy my company, particularly those I’ve sentenced to eternal damnation.”

Jon stopped his pacing, “Was that suppose to be a joke?”

“Yes, granted not a very funny one…”

“See, You’ve been down here too long. When was the last time you visited the upper world?”

“Now let’s see, there was your wedding to my sister?” Robb offered.

“That was three hundred years ago.”

“And I still have a hangover, that was some strong wine you served.” Robb said, getting out of his throne and walking away from his guest.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed our chat Jon…”

“Robb if you disapparate I will…” Jon started, but Robb had disappeared in a puff of smoke before he could hear the rest.

He had arrived in his bedroom, deciding to take a bath after a long day of judging and being judged by his own family.

As he disrobed he saw his reflection in the mirror. He had not changed much, scars still adorned his battle worn body, his muscles hadn’t worn, his hair was still vibrant, what was Jon talking about?

But then he saw his eyes, had they always been so empty? The blue of his iris’s had seemed to dim, as though the life was draining from them.

He stepped into the boiling water, his ghostly pale skin heating instantly. He never felt warm these days; every room was cold with no light to brighten the dark corners.

“Damn him.” Robb muttered, he knew Jon was right. Perhaps a tedious visit to the upper world would do him good.

……………

He had ascended to the upper world; where exactly? He wasn’t sure, but it was dark and gloomy; not at all what Jon had in mind.

He was in a forest, the bark of the trees nearly as black as his cloak. He could not see much, the intertwined branches of the trees held on to each other so tightly that the sun could only pierce through the thinnest of cracks. The fallen leaves beneath him crunched under the weight of his feet, the sound oddly soothing to him.

Despite the familiarity of his dark surroundings, Robb found relief in breathing in the fresh air. He took deep breaths to fill his lungs; it felt like life, new life, sinking in to his bones. It was only a temporary resurgence, but it would tide him over for a few more years.

He had been walking for just over an hour when he reached the end of the forest. He looked up to see a field of lavender, the sun setting to rest upon the tip of each bud. It was a beautiful sight, but the laughter that followed was more beautiful still.

It shocked him at first, knowing that he was not alone as he had intended to be, but the sound seemed to intrigue him, and he searched for the person it came from.

He stepped a little closer to the edge, where the dark forest ended and the field of lavender began, but he dared not step further; he found comfort in his darkness, and he didn’t want to frighten whatever lurked within the grass.

As he leaned over he saw a goddess. Robb had been to the central kingdom, he had met with many goddesses, all beautiful and alluring, but none had made his heart beat quite as quickly as it did in that very moment.

She was enchanting; her hair, like spun gold, curved around each blade of grass, the smell of the lavender soaking in to every strand. Her skin was sun kissed; a dusting of freckles, almost unnoticeable to the naked eye, had the honour to rest upon the bridge of her nose. Her lips put the lavender’s beauty to shame, every smile or delicate pout stole away their attention. She was almost childlike in the way she giggled at a butterfly resting upon her knee, but her body betrayed such innocence. She was a woman, each curve told Robb as much; the dip of her back lifted her breasts higher and the thin dress she wore barely covered her smooth legs that bent ever so daintily.

But the most taunting aspect of this vision was her eyes. They were the purest green Robb had ever seen. Usually he saw bodies turn green with death and decay, but these eyes were so full of life and wonderment. They spoke of promises to see only in beauty.

Robb suddenly felt nauseous, he had to leave. He turned quickly in an attempt to rid himself of such perfection, but the snap of a twig under his foot betrayed him.

“Hello?” The siren called out to him.

Robb sunk back into the trees, the darkness shrouding his body.

She stood up and walked slowly to the edge of the field. Her eyes searched longingly for something, but she did not know what. Robb knew she couldn’t see him, but he still felt nervous.

She sunk back down and sat in front of the forest.

“Please come back, I can’t go any further…” she whispered the last part so sadly that Robb had to speak.

“Why not?” He said before his common sense could stop him.

She jumped momentarily, but her smile convinced him that she was happy to have company. She sat on her knees, her body language exuding enthusiasm.

“My mother only lets me go this far, she says there are too many dangers out there.”

“She may have a point.” Robb told her, but he hated to admit it.

“What kind of danger?” She asked so innocently.

“A number of things, you could get lost, there are wild animals, murderers, thieves….me.” He said, and his heart seemed to weigh heavier on his chest.

There was a brief period of silence and Robb had wondered if she had ran away, but her wind chime voice silenced his worries.

“Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?” She said.

He was about to answer when the sound of bells ringing broke whatever trance he was under.

“I have to go.” She said sadly, “Will you come visit again?”

“You want me to?”

“Very much so.” She said with a smile.

“Why?” He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“I have yet to decide if you are a danger or not.”

Robb chuckled at that. “Then yes, I’ll visit again, but only if you tell me your name.”

She giggled, “It’s Myrcella.” She said and left as the bells chimed a second time, demanding her presence.

“Oh sweet Myrcella, I can only ever be a danger.” Robb spoke sadly as he watched her run through the field of lavender.

……………..

“My love?” Jon yelled as he walked up the stairs to his chamber.

“In here.” She called.

He opened the door to find her looking through the halls portal; it looked like a simple mirror, but his wife could see anyone she desired through it.

“Spying again?” He joked.

Sansa turned to him, a raised eyebrow suggesting he mind his own business. “I see you spoke to Robb.”

Jon sighed and sat on the end of the bed, “A wasted visit it seems, he has no desire to listen to my advice.”

Sansa came up behind him to hug his shoulders. “You may have been more persuasive than you realise my love.” She said kissing his cheek.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, I think my brother will be visiting the upper world more often.”

#robbcella #robb x myrcella #Robb Stark #Myrcella Baratheon #jonsa #jon snow #Sansa Stark #game of thrones #anonwriter27

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nochuobsessed · 7 years ago

Text

Reign || Pt 01

Reign Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

Groups: BTS, EXO, Blackpink

Au: Royal

Pairing: ??? x Reader

Genre: Angst | Fluff | Smut | Au

Warnings: None in the chapter

Summary: Your life was fine, until your older brother, who happens to be the King, decides to alter your life.

"Your Highness, it's time to wake up."

You sighed as you opened your eyes to face your families servants. All dressed exactly the same.

"His Majesty has requested to speak to you," one of your handmaidens explained, as you hopped out of your bed.

"It must be important if he's asking for me before court takes place," You said, "Will my ladies be here soon?"

"Already here!" One of your ladies, Jisoo shouted, as the four beautifully dressed girls entered your room.

"Jisoo! Not so loud she just woke up," Another, Rosé said, "How was your sleep Y/N?"

"It was fine," You said, "You must've heard that my brother has asked to speak to me."

The handmaidens had started to get you into your dress for the day, a beautiful long dress, cream in colour.

"Yes," Jennie, one of your other ladies said, "We've been asked to accompany you."

"Oh thank the Gods," you said, smiling, "He only summons me like this if it's bad, otherwise he'd just barge into my room."

"Maybe not," Lisa said, walking over to you to start braiding your hair, "You yelled at him last time he did that."

"Only because he wasn't announced," You said, laughing as you face your ladies.

Jisoo, Lisa, Rosé and Jennie were assigned to you back when you were 12. Over the 5 years that the five of you have been together, you've all become the best of friends, which makes their job a lot easier.

"I wonder if he's finally getting married," Jisoo said, as she and Jennie started to find your jewellery, "He's been King for a while now, and not only does he not have a Queen, but he has no Heir."

"But he does have whores, let's not forget that," Lisa said, making everyone laugh.

"They're not all whores," Jennie added, raising her eyebrows at Lisa.

"I'm sure he has many illegitimate children unbeknownst to his knowledge," You say, raising your eyebrows at your reflection in the mirror, "Just think of the nieces and nephews I have..."

"You do realise that by him not being married and not producing an heir yet, if anything was to happen to his Majesty-"

"Yes Rosé, I would become Queen. But I have no intentions on ruling over this Kingdom," You said, standing up and walking over to your crowns, "I'm sure Samuel can handle it if it comes to that. Maybe Jihyun or if it comes to it, Jina, but let's hope my brother keeps his health."

"What about the Kingdom of Kim? Their King has no Queen," Jennie said, "Quite a nice Kingdom too-"

"Let's change the subject," Jisoo said, smiling awkwardly at you and your company, "Are you ready to talk to your brother?"

Taking one last look in the mirror, you nod, "Let's see what he has to say."

Walking down the corridors with your ladies, the five of you notice more people than usual scurrying about.

"You'd think it was Summer Solstice," Lisa said, "Maybe we have visitors?"

"Prince Samuel might be back," Rosé said, "He is due to arrive any day now."

"Whoever it is, they must be important," Jenny said, "look!"

Your ladies run over to the nearest window, with you following close behind.

"That's a lot more guards," Jisoo said, "And some of them are from the Kingdom of Kim!"

"How can you tell?" Rosé asked, "They all look the same."

"Jisoo knows a lot about the Kingdom of Kim, I would trust her," Lisa said, winking at Jisoo.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Lisa and Jisoo said in unison.

"I don't mean to rush you, Y/N," Rosé said, "But your brothers men are coming this way."

"You Highness!" One of your brother's guards said, as the group of them bowed, "We mean no disrespect, but we're on a tight schedule."

"It's not even midday yet but we're on a tight schedule?" You asked, as you return to making your way to the Throne Room.

"You obviously haven't been told much then," said Baekhyun, your brothers Deputy, "There's a very important group of people here."

You looked at Baekhyun, as he gave you a small yet comforting smile.

"Probably just friends of Mother's," You said, "Baek, what do you know?"

The large group, now surrounded by guards, continued down the hallways, with more maids and servants appearing within the minute.

"I know you're not going to be pleased," Baekhyun said, "I'm not happy about it either."

"Oh dear," You say, biting your lip, "It can't be that bad, right?"

"It is," Baekhyun whispers in a low tone, "For the both of us, it won't do us any good."

You had reached the end the of the hall. You and Baekhyun shared a worried look.

"Alright then. Announce me."

The big double doors that lead to the Throne Room open, as you shared a concerning look to your ladies.

"The Princess Y/N, and her ladies."

The throne room was massive, and coated the gold. The pillars led up to the rounded ceiling, decorated with stone snakes, your Kingdoms sigil. Engraved in the walls above the Thrones, was the Kingdom of Park's motto.

We will not be poisoned.

You felt slightly more confident after reading the motto. Your father had always chanted it to you before he died.

Your kingdom was represented by the snake. Snakes cannot be harmed by their own poison. Therefore you and your family would not be brought down, as you can only you bring down others and their kingdoms.

You walked in, to find not just your brother's throne and the empty Queen's throne, but six others on the level below the Park Thrones.

"You're right, she is beautiful," One of the men sitting on a throne said.

"I would never lie about my darling sister," King Jimin said, standing up and taking your hand, "Y/N, how are you my dear?"

"I am fine, your Majesty," You said, "And who are these, men in front of us?"

"I'll let them introduce themselves, although you should know some of them," King Jimin said, nodding towards the six men.

The first stood up. He was dressed in the finest clothes, much like the rest of the group. The crown on his head indicated that he wasn't a Prince. He was by far one of the most beautiful men that you had ever seen. But then again, all the men in front of you were.

"Princess Y/N, I am King Seokjin of the Kingdom of Kim," He said, taking your hand and kissing it, "It is an honour to meet the beautiful sister of a good friend."

"Thank you, your Majesty," You said, curtsying, "I do not know why you or any one else is here, but it is an honour to have you in the Park Court."

"Thank you," King Seokjin said, before sitting back down.

The next to stand was the man who had called you 'a beauty' earlier. He had a dark look to him, but it was also wise. He was pale, you thought, but that was probably because of how dark his hair was. His throne was dark too, with a sliver crow at the top, his families sigil.

"Princess, I am Prince Yoongi of the kingdom of Min," He said, kissing your hand like the King beforehand, "I do hope that we'll get along."

"I have no doubts, Prince Yoongi," You said, curtsying and offering a warm smile.

He bows, and returns to his throne.

"Princess Y/N," The next said, standing up and walking to you, "I am the Hope and Angel of the Kingdom of Jung, Prince Hoseok."

Prince Hoseok had a very positive vibe to him. Whether it was genuine or not, you had yet to decide. His smile could probably light up the whole castle

"Well I'm absolutely thrilled, Prince Hoseok, that you're able to speak so truthfully about yourself, as I have heard many great things about you," You said, curtsying and smiling.

"Thank you, Princess. Every kingdom knows of your beauty, and your kindness. I am grateful to be able to witness it first hand," Prince Hoseok said, returning to his Throne with a bow.

As the next stood up, your brother whispered in your ear.

"You're doing great so far, darling."

You took a deep breath and nodded, as the next kissed your hand and smiled at you.

He was tall, and he held a knowledgable look to him. He was easy on the eyes, you thought. You had heard about him, he was nearly a legend for his philosophies, and at such a young age.

"I am Prince Namjoon from the Kingdom of Mon. Others may speak of your beauty, but I have heard many things of your intelligence. Maybe we could take a walk and have a discussion about that?"

You let out a small laugh, and curtsied, "Why of course, Prince Namjoon. I would be delighted."

He smiled and returned to his throne.

The next to stand up was smiling the whole time, "Princess, I am the Prince Taehyung of Vee. I, don't really have anything else to say..."

He was cute, that was for sure. Beautiful, he would easily catch your eye even if he was a peasant. You had heard that he was kind, kinder than most royals. Always ready to help anyone and always putting others first.

"That's quite alright," you said, "I often find myself in the same situation. I'm sure we'll find time to talk later?"

"Yes, that would be lovely," Prince Taehyung said, bowing and walking back to his throne.

"And last, but definitely not least, the Prince Jungkook from Jeon."

Prince Jungkook was mesmerising. He was the type of Prince that fairytales were about. He was gorgeous, he was kind. You had met briefly when you were children, and he helped you escape some Nobleman's mean children. You hadn't forgotten.

Jungkook stood up and walked towards you, kissing your hand whilst keeping eye contact.

"Princess, I have looked forward to meeting you. I uh, hope we can get to know one other," He said, bowing.

You smiled and curtsied back, "Yes I'm sure we will."

He returned to his throne, keeping a smile hidden on his face.

"These are my sisters ladies, Lady Jennie, Lady Lisa, Lady Rosé, and Lady Jisoo," Jimin announced.

Each of your friends stepped forward and curtsied when their name was announced.

You noticed that King Seokjin had kept his eyes on Jisoo the whole time, so you made a mental note to mention it to her later.

"Now brother," You said, walking towards him so that you may stand next to him, "Why are we gathered here? It's not a festival or holiday. Jieun hasn't mentioned visiting in any of her letters, and Samuel's return from training wouldn't cause this, neither would Jongdaes..."

"Well, darling sister," Jimin said, smiling, "You are going marry one of these men."

"Excuse me?" You said, shock evident on your face.

Marry? You couldn't. Sure, you were 17 which was the perfect age, but to say this out of the blue infuriated you.

"It's about time, you're of age, not that that matters in our Kingdoms. They're all looking for a potential bride and have all reached out to me about you," King Jimin said, pacing, "So I invited them all here to the Park Court, so that you may get to know them, and choose one to marry! Isn't this exciting?"

"No, it's really not," You said, "Do I get a say in this?"

"You get to choose which one of them, but you must choose one," Jimin said, smiling at you.

"Right, well," You said, "I will see you all later, maybe."

With that, you stormed off, your ladies quickly following after you.

"I am terribly sorry for her reaction," King Jimin said, trying to ease the company in front of him.

"It was inevitable," Prince Yoongi said, "You hadn't told her anything nor are you giving her a choice in whether or not she is to marry."

"I agree," Prince Taehyung said, "What if she has a lover? Someone inside the castle she dedicates her love to?"

"She doesn't," King Jimin said, "Not that I know of. She knows she's not allowed to."

"That's cruel," King Seokjin said, "Anyway, enough of this talk. Is the offer still on the table or can I return to my kingdom?"

"Yes," King Jimin said, "You can each spend time with her, and after 2 months she can decide which one of you she wants to marry."

"And if she chooses none of us?" Prince Namjoon asks.

"She will," King Jimin said, "I have no doubts that one of you will be the one to win my sisters love."

"Love, such a word thrown around but little mean it," Prince Jungkook said, sighing.

"And what would you know about love?" Prince Hoseok asked, leaving Jungkook to be silent, "Nothing, so be quiet-"

"Hoseok, you be quiet," King Jimin said, "Jungkook is right. I haven't told you the last part of the deal."

"And what would that be?" Prince Namjoon asked.

"If my sister chooses you, you must both love each other," King Jimin said, "Only then will you have my blessing to be wed."

"Right then," Prince Hoseok said, "May the best Prince win."

Everyone nodded, until King Seokjin spoke up.

"Wait, aren't I a King?"

"I will ask the servants to show you to your rooms. I should talk to Y/N," King Jimin said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That would be a wise idea, one of your very few wise ideas," Prince Yoongi said, rolling his eyes.

"You are kind, Prince Yoongi," Jimin said, giving him the biggest fake smile he could, "Servants!"

"Yes, your Majesty?" One of the servants said as the rest gathered in front of him.

"Show my dear... friends, to their rooms," He said, "I will talk to my sister."

"Yes, your Majesty."

Everyone had left the room, so the king decided to find his sister, before his attention went to someone else.

"Jimin, may I ask you something?" Prince Jungkook asked, pulling the King aside.

"You just did but yes, go ahead," Jimin said, smiling at the young Prince.

"If it was found that the Princess had a lover inside the castle, what would happen?" He asked.

"It doesn't concern you," Jimin said.

"But it does," Jungkook said, "If I am to win her heart, how am I supposed to do so when she could be in love with this person that she sees everyday?"

"Right," Jimin said, "Well, if I find out anything, he or she will be exiled or hanged for treason. This alliance between my kingdom and her future husbands kingdom will do us very good."

"That will be greatly appreciated," Prince Jungkook said, "I'll leave you to talk to the Princess."

Jimin nodded, as Jungkook followed one of the servants.

"Park Y/N! Tell your guards to stand down!"

King Jimin was outside your door, constantly knocking and asking for you. You had told the guards not to let him in, which they obeyed, ignoring the fact that as the King, Jimin had a higher rank than you, which meant that he could tell the guards to let him in. However you had grown up with the same guards since you were 9, so they were accustomed to your sibling quarrels.

"I'll go talk to him if you want, Y/N," Jennie offered, as you were still not wanting to talk to your brother.

"Yes, go ahead," you said, "He strangely listens to you, so what harm could it cause?"

Jennie shared a glance with the other ladies, before opening the door, and pushing the King away.

"What is your problem, your Majesty?" Jennie asked, glaring at the King.

"I need to talk to her, it's not even that bad of a situation!" Jimin said, taking off his crown and running a hand through his hair.

"Not for you. what is this, some sort of alliance in the making?" Jennie asked.

"No, it's not," Jimin said, not making eye contact, which was a clear tell that he was lying, "I simply wanted to strengthen the bonds between the kingdoms. Jeon and Jung are on their way to a war cause by a petty fight between their Princes."

"So Y/N marrying one of them will strengthen all of them?" Jennie said, as Jimin held out his hand for her, "Also I know you just lied."

"Well, my dear," Jimin said, as they began walking, completely forgetting about you and the rest of your ladies, "They'll all fall for her, and when she chooses one of them, they'll all still love her, meaning none of them will want her to be in harms way?"

"Right," Jennie said, "So Y/N is supposed to get the heirs to the Seven Golden Kingdoms to fall in love with her?"

"Only six of them, as my kingdom counts as one," Jimin explained.

"I have another question," Jennie said, "Why exactly are we outside your chambers?"

"Well," Jimin said, opening the double doors, "You haven't visited me in a while."

"Well done, you noticed," Jennie said, "I'm not one of your whores, or your mistress."

"That doesn't mean, that you should avoid me," Jimin said, stepping forward towards Jennie, and backing her up against the wall, "And I'm offended that you think I have a mistress."

"I'm one of your sisters ladies," Jennie whispered, as Jimin drew closer and closer towards her, "We can't be anything."

"I'm the King of Park," Jimin smirked, "We'll be whatever I want us to be."

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worldcakecakecake · 7 years ago

Text

Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth, we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule, go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10 I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19 I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28 I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37 I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46 I Chapter 47

I apologize greatly for the time it took me, several personal things, a hurricane, no electricity, no signal, classes starting…it’s not been easy…but as always just be patient and I hope the contents can be worth the wait. Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 48

His castle had no magnificence. There were no murals, no paintings, no sculptures, no flourishing of flowers, symbols, or even stories. It was only but dark stone, cold, decaying, perhaps an occasional carving one of his men would create, a rug, a tapestry with symbols of himself, of his old kingdom in the heavens, to grant a little color, a little finesse even in his imprisonment. His men would sometimes bring him golden and gilded cups, plates, utensils, tables and even beds that they stole from the kingdoms from time to time, and he would use them as if they were rightfully his, placed and in care only proper for the items of a king…a god.

He never let anyone disrespect that, never let any forget, despite how the whole world did.

To remind he dined on salmon niçoise, saag paneer, squid with capers, apple charlotte, mango and passion fruits with elegancy in the hold of his forks and knives, slow in his bites, tasting well every piece, every flavor, a smile in celebration to himself, to this delicacy only he enjoyed from in the castle, in silence, in calm, all this feast to replenish as he pleased.

He was careful with this specific dark silk robe, engraved in gold like splendorous stardust, loose, excellent comfort for him to lean back, letting himself moan at the taste and exalt.

Servants knew, they trained, they practiced to take their steps in just the mellow their king wanted, as this current one did, tippy toing in the best hurry she could, a slight tremble in her hands that she tried to control by covering them in her long sleeves, even numbering her breaths to not disturb a trace of the regal air he had made in the last minutes.

“Your majesty…” she introduced, in just the right intonation that she knew would not awry with the organized balance of peace and silence.

“Angela, my darling, speak,” he smiled and flew in his position of rest.

“Rodion’s group has returned,”

“Splendid, let them in, let them in,” he was glad and accepting, with a welcoming grin, excitement in the sitting he took as the group entered at the servant’s signal, the three damaged, marked, burned, ruined armors showing the rust and force of whatever past mission they have been sent on. Their king smiled on uncaring to these blemishes, uniting his hands and leaning his posture towards them like a curious child awaiting a story.

“Tell me, how did it go?” The smile he showed was wide and true, but it didn’t stir any confidence, the men feared and looked among each other as they readied to say the words they had prepared. Their main leader, who stood frontal, took a sigh to make himself grow strong, spear at his side standing just as linear as he determined to keep while he told the news.

“There were more soldiers than we had expected,” he started with. “Rightfully armored, strong magic, countless of men and women that our little numbers could not stand against,”

“I gave you thirty men,” the king reminded, beginning a strain as he rubbed his fingers on his temple, not a very good sign to the three.

“We were going against sixty,”

“Jokers, sixty jokers guarding something that surely holds no interest to the current King and Queen of Hearts. They shouldn’t have been this prepared with a sudden entering like this.” His voice began to alter and anger.

“May I remind that the prince and the arising queen are currently on the journey, the kingdoms know our numbers increased outside of the field with its weakened state and are doing all the necessary precautions, even jokers.”

It was still not sufficient enough to their king, who groaned and tightened his grip on the chair.

“You should have been a stronger match compared to them,” he determined through gritted teeth.

“Your majesty, you didn’t give us the right men or sufficient amount, perhaps if you-” all interrupted in a choke, a dark enchantment piercing, a burning and eating spreading at the shot of his stomach. He cracked and darkened like the very stones of this castle, falling to ashes and pieces on the floor, eyes lolled and color disappearing until his presence completely ceased in a snap of their king’s hand, a horror to the other two who watched, who could only stand and accept like they had seen it happen before.

They gazed upward to see their king hold true darkness in his eyes, maddened and stilled, uncaring to the events, he simply rubbed his hands on his robe as if all had just been an annoying spot to rid.

“You all know what I feel against such insolence…about raised voices out of line…and you know well how I repay,” he warned yet again, baring his rule and power to them, a force he knew made them shake, swallow and sweat.

“Off with you, make Fergus the new command of your group, have him meet with me in the throne room, we shall discuss his new position,” he decreed, ushering them away with a simple be gone of his hand, leaning to get his glass of wine as his hunger died and was replaced with a new urgency.

Angela then entered to face him in the usual position, doing well to ignore the shattered corpse on the ground beside her.

“Clean that up,” he pointed uncaringly to the body, standing once he had emptied his glass, “and take this back to the kitchen, the cooks and servants may share.”

She bowed in acceptance, trying not to lick her lips in expectation as she watched him pick up and make his way out the halls and into the new line of preparations. All servants that saw him would instantly stop in an altering, bow and carry on with harshened speeds on their earlier duties while their king remained with his eyes forward, angered and sharpened until he reached the height of his room to change.

Beautiful stitches, belts, even vested symbols upon a large thick robe, soft to his skin, long to trail behind him as if empowering the very ground he walked upon.

Yes, he thought himself a handsome beauty like this, walking with all that elegance and regency to the throne room, but to the servants he wore his tyranny and lash, ready any moment to invoke death and suffering in the raise of his palm and fingers.

The opening of the large doors was enough of a silencer to bring whatever murmurs of the room into nothing, for all the men to straighten in force ready for any kind of disposition that would lead them off to war. Their king made his way across in his ever preferred sways, the men not giving a movement or breath out of place until their king found his sitting in the dark carved chair, placing himself in the ruling he belonged and was prepared to invoke at the moment.

“Furgus,” he called, and thus this man came frontal, with a readied robe, slight armor, a proud staff of energizing dark magic in his tight hold, to use whenever he so wanted to fulfill the needs of his superior.

“Rodion disappointed me, I placed him out of the way and now grant you this position based on your other feats and missions. You have done sufficient, I don’t expect to see failure and thus can immediately set you forward on the same task.” There was a hidden growl even in the respectful way he spoke, how easily his words came out like a practiced taunt, which made many more men incline themselves.

“Rodya!” He called to another man this time, making his side by his other companion, in the same bow to the floor, cutlass at his side as the source and force of his power.

“Since Vinicio failed me in the Washington attack, he and his squadron had been dealt with accordingly. It leaves me with fewer men outside the field in the Spade Kingdom and in need of replacing his factions. You will then take his place, watch, plan rightfully this time. Don’t disappoint me, or else you know how grave the consequences can be,” he growled with his ever proud dignity on the sit of his chair, with rest and confidence, yet an intent that made all trembled as they accepted to the force of this command.

“Are you perhaps requesting another attack on the city?”

“Only what you can do, but I’m warning you that I expect some sort of outcome. As of now the new spheres of validity must have already been placed, but we can still try our usual exits.” He stood, walking forward, silk of robes falling and trailing, extending his hands in order.

“I don’t expect it to be an easy task from now on, but perhaps that hadn’t been the case if we had captured them as I wanted,” he aggravated that reminder, blaming gazes to all of them, all at fault.

“But our plans continue on as usual, I shall organize a meeting soon, going further into detail about further suggestions-” a slash, at speeds flying centimeters away from the perfection he had of his pale skin, the slickness of his black hair and his groomed beard. The weapon landed in a harsh stab against the center of the throne, its shaking creating an echo that silenced the room into a new sudden kind of fear. It had been a dagger, not of their darkened kind, but in clear silver, white, and of course…red, with familiar Heart symbols that left no room for the king to doubt.

The crowd instantly hurried trying to find the direction it had come from, a swarm already preparing their weapons and strategies to rain upon the traitor or the invader.

The King quickly found it, up on a darkened tunnel before him, old, an entrance that long ago he had forgotten and didn’t bother to question or fix. He saw the hand that fell, the oh so familiar blue eyes from long ago that glared into his darkened ones, bright enough to practically glow in the hidden spot he had taken, but it didn’t hold its meaning long enough when the king had clearly spotted him, with a grin that was welcoming despite the uncomfortable laughter. The long vibration was enough to halt the rooms’ searching and arming, questioning and scared as they tried to find a reason for it just after that kind of dagger threatened to aim directly at their king.

“Ludwig, Ludwig, Ludwig, here I thought you wouldn’t ever grace me with your visit, what pleasantries and honor,” he provoked loudly, only as he should because of their far distance, but also because of the constant empowering he wanted to do, especially before the prince of Hearts, the arising king of Hearts.

Ludwig only continued his glare, still not daring to move away from the shield of the shadow, wanting to instill enough killing in only his eyesight. It did nothing to faze Khaos, who only placed his arms in front of himself, smiling away in no bothers and intimidation, confident even in such a bareness, such a meet. Ludwig bared his sword, not wanting to move forward without its companionship. Finally some semblance of light revealed him completely, in those annoying whites that reminded Khaos of his sister, no mercy or care in his eyes about the decease he had caused himself.

It was then that all eyes in the room noticed him, with gasps, prepares, and starting release of their magic ready to inflict on the single enemy that came alone with no kind of shield showing protection. Ludwig was uncaring to the sudden attention, the wavering menace that was ready to kill in each and every direction, the only shining light in a sea of darkness, with only but a handful of weapons that all thought couldn’t stand enough, but Ludwig was determined to make it last all that it needed.

He took a leap to the floor below, surrounded, but all knowing well to not attack yet as King Khaos had not commanded and they didn’t see him as much as a threat.

How mistaken they had been.

While their king was distracted enough in the continuing connection of their eyes transmitting hatred and vengeance, Ludwig turned and stabbed his sword right through one man’s chest, a last scream erupting before they all began tumbling forward with their own different forces. Clang of swords, of fists, punches, kicks, growls, shouts. A dance of killing and disorder as Ludwig faced each one with either a slash of coated dark blood, a sting of bright fire, or the very force of his body, throws of his side and head, a growing pile of bodies surrounding him. With every hit, every cut, every bruise he himself received, the temptation for his body to join in the mess of deceased somehow seemed more relieving and liberating, but a perseverance continued him forward in his attacks and throws, many more falling under his strength. Khaos? He did nothing as he watched on with incredible interest, like this was all some show that amused him well. He had to admit, Ludwig shone just as tall, strong and skillful as Soren had once been. A Beilschmidt indeed, with all the pride of the name and fitting for the position of a king. That thought was enough of a sickening, of a detest, it provoked annoyance to the mess going around, of the game, clattering and disorder.

“Enough!” He shouted, with the spur of a shadow spreading all across the room as quick as lightning. It was a blow enough to have all his men immediately stop, dizzying and disorientated, while keeping a tight hold around Ludwig, all his movements stopped as a dark shadow wrapped around him, constraining him to pain and groans, trying what he could to escape.

All could let themselves to breathe, to let their weapons fall, cuts ooze and for others to help each with their wounds how they could, while Ludwig was brought forward until he was right before Khaos, in all the clarity and flesh that left nothing to doubt. He was tall and robust as himself, with strong jaw and features that could convey elegance and beauty, with darkness in his eyes, his hair, beard and clothes, but skin pale enough to compare to the snow that fell outside. Right now, he seemed so plain and human compared to the images Ludwig had made from the tales and what he later studied. All that power, darkness, evil… in such a normal daily form that made one forget and doubt. Ludwig had to remind himself that this was just a guise, a curse given to him by the Aces during the original creation, then strengthened by Augusta after his defeat in the war of the blackened decades. As he examined in the constrain of his shadowed bounds, Khaos came close enough as for Ludwig to feel his breath upon his skin, eyes cutting and analyzing like he was but a mere subject to an experiment.

“How wonderful, perfect, couldn’t have asked or created anything better,” he smiled, sickening and awful, Ludwig wanted to bite off his chuckle in all the savageness of skin and blood that he deserved.

“Oh please, stop looking this angry, you were the one who wanted to pay me a visit. Perhaps if you hadn’t been so violent I could have prepared a banquet, something nice that would have made you proud to join me.” he tried to coax.

“I don’t intend to be in any part of your plans,” Ludwig barked, flinching forward, gripping his hands as if it could make him believe he could go ahead and choke him. Khaos only rolled his eyes, taking sitting once again in his throne, in his usual comfort even with the situation.

“What a child, should have expected as much after the reports I was receiving.”

Instant question was in Ludwig’s eyes no matter how he tried to advert it, but nothing could truly hide from Khaos’s judgment.

“You really think I wouldn’t have spies and messengers in your city telling me every rumor and story? Boy, I’ve been keeping an eye on you from the moment your arising queen was born. I practically know you like your own grandfather,” he was confident.

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to family, you are nothing to me, nothing,” he spat in a harsh growl.

“Ah, but in a way, we are,” he smiled, only intensifying the harshness in Ludwig’s eyes and the sharp of his teeth.

“I haven’t forgotten what I gave long ago to your ancestor, about what’s been boiling through your lineage ready to release with you,” he reminded happily, enjoying the different kind of ways Ludwig’s angering marked his expression uglier.

“Think about it boy, that kind of power, control, everything you could ever want, everything you despise out of your path, I can even let you reign with me in the new world, a sort of Jack, or a general, surely with a more splendorous throne than anything the Hearts kingdom could give you,” he tried to convince, sure about his persuasion, but to Ludwig it was all insult, in which he wanted to pay in a fight and a killing.

“I’d rather you killed me right now!” He threatened, he lashed and moved, hoping for a freeing, a chance to fight before that kind of killing reached him. He was not going to be defeated like this, in a clutch, without a battle, so easily in the hold that Khaos wanted.

“Oh no, no, no, absolutely not, kill my own work like that after thousands of years, unacceptable.”

And for the first time Ludwig’s eyes widened in worry, in question and nervousness that left him cornered. Khaos had smirked…but it quickly turned into a groan as Ludwig continued to quiver in his confines, still wanting escape, blood, killing. No matter, now he could persevere knowing that Khaos wouldn’t dare kill him wanting his use.

“Don’t overcomplicate things, you’re stuck here until the next alignment and the more accepting you become, the better, I don’t need you disobeying me.” Like scolding a small child, a feeling that Ludwig intensely hated and it just made his resolve stronger, his wish for escape, a kind of ripping going through the shadowed rope. Khaos had to intensify it before Ludwig could reach an outing.

“I will disobey, I won’t stop until I’ve seen your skull smashed to pieces!” He shouted, jumping, nearing, two men having to rush and add to the hold, Ludwig trying what he could to shake them off, but the force on him was potent enough, more so when a third had to join.

Angela had then arrived, especially after she heard the word that quickly spread through the castle, not showing any kind of interest to the new face, but only obedience to Khaos as she stood beside him, fearful and trembling as always.

“How rude, how brash, certainly no behavior for a king.” Khaos laid with outmost calm, even checking his nails as his men dealt with constraining the invader, who kept on fighting, trying to land some kind of blow on any of them to make this easier and manageable. Not a care Khaos gave as his men suffered any blows or bruises. It was whatever it took to get Ludwig to halt, to accept to his quick defeat.

“Your majesty, what should we do with him?” Angela questioned, intimidated by the invader’s snarls and piercing savage eyes.

That moment Ludwig landed a kick on one of the men’s groin, having him fall and even loose breathe just as another came, just as Ludwig managed a blow against one’s head with his own. Khaos laughed, raising his hand yet again, creating a shadow to tie around his mouth, ceasing any kind of movements of his head and neck, only to angry mumbles wanting to bite it off, his eyes rising to Khaos with his still vengeful spirit.

“Accept him as one of our own, of course.”

Ludwig detested, detested, detested, the fire in the burn of his eyes growing.

“But in the meantime, while he reflects and comes to turn to his destiny, he shall be kept in the cellars, our coldest one, that will serve him enough. I’ll keep an eye on him…see if I can…” he began to watch his hands, concocting and brewing ideas that alighted his eyes with excitement. All the possibilities, all the new he could add, and with a whole year before it, a whole year to make him quiver and test the limits of his resistance. Ah yes, a cold and weakened body, to ruins, nothing once what was truly inside him would be released for the new alignment.

“…rile him up, test a little of what that wretched Romulus left behind for him,” he smirked and decided, waving his hand away as a command to get him moving. Four men had to come to add to the restrain, while Ludwig kept fighting, kept testing those restrains as men continued what they could to barricade him.

As the room scurried, as all the men began to move, staring to Ludwig’s retreating form, whispers of worry and plan arose. Some wanted to follow and help, others wanted to remain in the room to continue hearing their leader speak of new commands and tasks. Khaos just settled, ignorant of all and just wanting some rest for his thoughts to proceed and plot, wonderful ideas that could get Ludwig to break. Once again it was interrupted by another slam, other steps, an angry kind of intimidating aura that began to reign all across the room…and all so familiar and beautiful one that made Khaos momentarily sway.

“Now what,” he complained, rolling his eyes, having to awake from his thoughts.

All the earlier mess stopped in an instant. Between the crowds a single shinning figure made his way between, bravely, with head held high and more intimidating with the addition of a St. Mark walking just as regally beside him. Khaos did not want to think who it was, none of them wanted to, but a new kind of trembling went through all as they began to recognize well the kind of presence that reigned, the powerful steps, strong grip of hands and stature that made one fearful to approach, all moving aside to grant this figure all the necessary space, none daring to disturb, to go against, some even refused to look. Khaos decided to take one last calming breath before he would settle his eyes on this new welcoming, giving a moment of last flight in his mind, a closing, a fall of his head until it could balance itself to look forward, for his eyes to open and meet.

It was a boy, dressed in very similar whites to Ludwig, but the intensity of his red eyes, of the marks that covered his body, even the intense growl that formed in his mouth didn’t seem to go with the sweetness he had expected from the reports about no other than Feliciano Vargas.

No, the magic that arose, the intensity, the power…the familiarity.

This was not Feliciano Vargas, no, but his beloved, his creation, his past wife, all the same radiance and wonder even with intent to kill.

“Augusta! How long and what luck for me to receive two such important guests in the span of minutes, is there a celebration that I missed? Don’t you worry, I can have my servants whip us a feast in no time,” he dared smile and continue his challenging eyes, arms extended in welcome even as the figure continued to remain in the same harshness he had entered in, bearing so much fire that even Khaos let his hand fall under them, seeming to wonder what could be the problem.

He was pretending, she knew, hiding and uncaring as always.

“And here I thought a thousand more years could have changed something about you, but you’re still as ignorant as the days of beginning.” It was rather odd for such a womanly voice to be heard from the figure of a young man, having to go along with the expressions and movements of this past woman, goddess, Ace, like a puppet, a vessel as it should be. Like it was her own body, taking immediate owning of it, she wrapped her arms on her chest, scolding and wanting, one of command that already asked.

It really was like she was before him once again. It added that Feliciano looked remarkably like her, making it hard for differences to be pointed out.

“Aw, it’s nice to know that you held some ounce of belief for me,” he brought a hand forward to his chest touched.

“I believe chances should be granted to all, but you test my belief in that.” No doubt, no backing down, no fear in those eyes, even as Khaos stood trying to intimidate her with his stature, all the men around her with sharp weapons, the very dark dome and pillars that held this castle of evil ruin. She learned to see it as nothing, confidence shining more with her as the lion beside her took a sitting, showing honor and respect despite the cruelty of this king.

“It’s like no time has passed. You’re still the same child,” he laughed, beginning his steps down wanting to truly be frontal before her.

“You out of all dare tell me this? Reason it is enough to burn this vessel of yours to make it as unseemly as you truly are,” she threatened, with ready spite to attack in every movement of his lips.

Khaos dared come closer, he dared stand right before her, their heat close, sickening and maddening to her, but as a testing she remained as she was, hatred still shinning deep in those eyes. He extended a hand and yet she didn’t budge, the only movement in the room was that of Ludwig’s from afar, who witnessed everything with worry and unsettlement. The men who kept a hold of him had stop to stare at this confrontation between their king and his early first creation, at a distance where Ludwig could see everything, trying harder to release himself, more when he saw Khaos give that deploring closeness to Feliciano. To worsen his fear, he saw as Khaos lay a caressing hand on Feliciano’s cheek, a sick smile that made Ludwig want to punch it out more, intensifying his force in trying to release himself from these grasps.

“This new vessel you take is quite interesting,” Khaos let himself compliment as Augusta grimaced, as Feliciano trembled inside in deep fear, yet still, yet letting.

Khaos brought himself closer, for their faces to only lay centimeters by each other, breaths close, more fear igniting in Feliciano below.

“Even as a man you’re as desirable and beautiful. Yes, I don’t mind it, I like this form very much,” he licked his lips, his closeness beginning for more, riling more Ludwig in his distance, back to his kicking and punching for a release.

“I can want it,” he grinned, closer and closer, pass barriers neither did Feliciano and Augusta accept.

There was a sudden burning grip on his arm, lightening in a red glow that buried them in a haze, the intense of her hold showing her anger, her defense and backing of him, of no acceptance to any of the sick thoughts he let himself concoct.

“I don’t recall granting you permission for this, I don’t recall ever wanting you and I assure you Feliciano has no similar wants,” she scolded, pushing him away, all watching one of those rare moments that Khaos let himself trip, panic and even move back as he shook his arm trying to relieve himself from the heat, the pain, letting his mind begin a healing in the area.

Augusta, in the guise of Feliciano, stood yet as unaffected, no kind of reaction to the small hurt she caused on the powerful man.

“How did you get in? Why are you here?” He was losing his patience, growls beginning and anger slowly replacing whatever lust was there earlier.

“I created this field, I can grant myself whatever entrance and exit I want, it’s as simple as creating enough of an opening,” she explained easily.

Khaos sent glances to some of his men, who nodded and began marching away, surely to grant themselves an escape for his mission. Augusta could have added that she closed up her entrance just for this to not happen, but she refused to give the energy, they could disappoint and later kill themselves as they tried to escape the new potency of the field which now had newer Ace magic. She only rolled her eyes and settled on him again, wanting to continue his questions.

“As for my visit, I come reclaiming something back before you taint it more in your horrible magic,” she assured and demanded.

“What is it that you’re asking?”

“That you return to my grandson his beloved, his king, I will not let him remain here, I will not let you place a finger on him and intensify to the worst of your own,” she growled, she practically shouted as she wanted to make her decree sure, for once enough to have Ludwig suddenly stopping, a widened that showed through the rest of his body.

“Oh, you mean Ludwig over there,” Khaos pointed to him as if he was a useless item.

“Yes, at once, and we’ll be leaving instantly.”

The crowds awaited for Khaos’s answer, which he postponed to worsen the agitation, even the menace that grew from Feliciano’s body.

“I cannot do that,” he assured, instantly fuelling the fires of Augusta’s anger.

“Why?” Her tone harshened, with a monstrous growl that made some of the men quiver in fear, parting more from her side, for they felt the heat strong, ready to burn them.

“He came here on his own free will, it’s only what he wanted and I am going to give him. With him here earlier than I had expected means that I can strengthen him to what I want, make him a more powerful pawn. I can’t let go of that, now that it’s already here with a year anticipation.”

It caused Ludwig to fight on more on his side. He still desired to hurt him good, he still wanted to punch him bad.

“And I will not permit it!” Augusta determined, taking steps closer to him, with points and harshened steps that threatened to break the stone under her.

“I want him to leave with me right now,” she shadowed, she continued to demand with fury and Khaos was not letting himself fall under it, turn weak, indifference in his eyes, checking his nails, even his wrist, admiring the dark jeweled bracelet he wore.

“I still won’t, my dear.”

That did it.

She forced in a slam Feliciano’s foot to the ground, creating a shaking throughout the whole building, rocks falling, crashes of pillars resounding across the halls, creating worsened shouts and for the men to scurry in fear. Fire began to alight around the room, brightening, burning, some even fell to its clutches, filling the room in shouts and the smell of melting flesh. The jets continued to grow, some fires reaching as high as the dome above them, not a part hidden from her red, nobody saved from sweating, from the light of intensity that had many covering their eyes. Yet Khaos sat as nonchalant, not in the lease disturb, only continuing his angry glares with Augusta, the occurrences around them doing nothing to interrupt them.

“You cannot defeat me right now and I have more than enough power and men to stop you if you dare to escape,” he reminded with a growl, with anger slowly releasing.

“But I can make you pain.” She brought Feliciano’s hand forward, piercing right through his chest with the same fires, the same burning and for once did Khaos let himself squirm, to fall out of breath, shout, trying to release himself by scratching tightly to Feliciano’s arm, but even still Augusta continued her hurt, the scratching and destroying of the insides of this vessel, of one of his priced robes, weakening enough for his efforts to do nothing.

Despite the cringing, his trying for a release, the words Augusta wanted to hear refused to leave his mouth, he still managed a glare, even through the sweating, the greeted teeth, even the blood and burn that oozed down his body, tainting Feliciano’s arm.

“Nothing,” he managed to growl out, “all this will do is just ruin the vessel and weaken your own. You’re only wasting your magic. Our true battle will take place in the next alignment, not inside the field, the very force would not permit our magic to extend to those of killing, because if not, believe me so I would have ridden of all of you easily.” He spat confidently, tiring yet maintaining his fortitude, his resolve, one Augusta was starting to see clear much to her disappointment…it meant she had to go along with other plans, admitting to the right of some of his words.

The fires dispersed, she let Feliciano release the hands from the bloodied hole she created, letting Khaos finally breathe what he could as his vessel began its own healing. Feliciano’s hand was now dirtied, Augusta examining it before she cleaned it off in an easy control, as clean without the proof of the small moment of violence she had just created.

“Very well then,” she accepted, walking away, many for a moment thinking that she would just leave, right out through the entrance she had so easily taken. Then again…would she be willing to leave behind Ludwig with Khaos?

Instead of the exit, she came forward to the group that still held on to Ludwig, frightened of her to the point that they let go of the prince, confident that the shadow restraint Khaos placed would be enough. With a single pointing of her power he was released, able to move, to breathe properly, to stare to the figure of his beloved as astounded, knowing that at the moment it was Augusta he should respect. To show this he bowed, the lowest he could, practically hiding his face. Augusta would not permit it, setting Feliciano’s hands on his shoulders to raise him. She sent him a respectful gleam and a smile, an assurance of friends.

“I shall remain here as well then,” she decided, earning a collective gasp from all in the room, even Ludwig, who instantly was ready to refuse if Augusta hadn’t raised a finger silencing him. Even Khaos’s expression was that of surprise, staring on and wondering if he had really heard her acceptance to stay, to drag in Feliciano as well.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Khaos challenged.

“All I’ve ever done is dare you, so yes, I shall remain, unless you let us leave,” she assured, hoping it could test him some more, but Khaos only glared, resting on his throne in acceptance, even if angered.

“All right, it will bound to make things interesting until the alignment. Welcome then my dear,” he smiled sinisterly, surely ideas that Augusta had to calm Feliciano about in her mind, assuring him with ideas and ways for him to stand brave for their second plan.

“I’m doing this as a way to watch over Ludwig, to make sure you do nothing to him,” she glared on, brushing some dust of Ludwig’s pristine white suit, if still some parts ruined with cuts and blood stains because of his earlier fight with Khaos’s men.

Khaos chuckled, all a joke to him, a show. “I believe it’s better. I can watch over you and Feliciano as well, and hey, perhaps Ludwig can rid of you quicker here,” Khaos delighted at the thought, smiling splendidly with expectation.

Augusta decided to ignore and roll her eyes, focusing once again on Ludwig…or was she? There was a deepening in her eyes, a loving intent, her hands caressing way too intimately his face, finding, searching, a hopeful smile that Ludwig couldn’t help grinning back to. He had to remind himself that he held that spirit of Romulus that she so desired and hoped was still out there, and to know he was inside him, her own grandson’s beloved, her dear friend Soren’s own great grandson. It was a wonderful meeting that left her glowing, with greetings to a past and with hope for an amazing future. Then she took notice of Ludwig as he was, away from the meanings he held in his soul. He was as handsome as Soren had been at his age, strong, kindness in his eyes…even fear with the occurrences going on around them, yet brave, determined, obsolete and forward. Soren’s lineage created an amazing king, a perfect companion for his own Feliciano, with just the heart to be a Queen.

“Are you going to stay like this?” Keron wondered to many things, one being her commanding of Feliciano’s body and the very scene before him that disgusted, bringing annoyance to his expression.

“No…but don’t you dare think I won’t be watching, don’t you dare try a thing against Ludwig or Feliciano, or you will suffer more of my fury. Even if I can’t kill you I will try anything that will make you cringe as you just did, and trust me Keron, I can find new ways.”

Khaos had to try really hard to hide his shiver.

“That’s my last warning and offer, head to them and we will later see how our next facing will go.” She gave him one final glare before she turned completely to Ludwig.

“So be it,” he nodded, but yet other plans settled in his mind.

Augusta extended her hands and gave one last dear caress to Ludwig’s jaw, one last look and longing before she brought Feliciano’s body closer, to lay in the comfort of his shoulder, enough for a sweetness many simply thought of as an exaggerated display, but Augusta used it as a disguise.

“Do not worry, I have given Feliciano a plan, he shall explain everything later in private,” were her last words before she began her leave, her return to Feliciano’s inner soul, giving him his reign back, his weakness, his haze, dizziness, quickly stumbling in Ludwig’s hold. Feliciano groaned, his head panging deeply, trying to regain order, movement, even a proper stand as his surroundings continued to spin. Ludwig held to him immediately, his grip strong, arms around him, raising his head to him as a sort of comfort.

“Ludwig…Ludwig!” Feliciano exclaimed in sudden glowing joy, jumping and wrapping his arms around him in the same love, in the same lost of each other, giving them a small moment of peace, of relief, of coming back to each other, Feliciano truly as he was.

Surprisingly none of the men around them did anything to stop this, confused, questioning, hoping for some kind of command by Khaos, but for now he stared on to this with continuing annoyance, rolling his eyes, then wanting to be immediate in his next orders.

“Take Ludwig to one of the furnished prisoner rooms,” he suddenly commanded, force in his voice like a snap, enough for the men to fall back into action.

“What?” Feliciano questioned as he gave a moment to turn away, just the distraction for the man to take as a holding, pulling the lovers away, instant disagreement in their shouts, in their kicks and pushes.

“You gave your word not to do anything to us,” Feliciano managed to shout, just as Ludwig was once again tied in shadows, double on his chest and hips, around his mouth, neck and now even hands. It drove Feliciano to act more, to try his own punch and kicks despite his weakness, his missing throws and how it hurt him when he did collide with another body.

“Oh how cute, you do have bite, interesting.” Khaos smirked, with his ever elegance coming closer. He didn’t put any binding on Feliciano, his men took easy control of his body, his magic too weak, the very binding of the field, enough for both the intruders to fall into silence, to listen to the king.

“I said Ludwig would be taken to a prisoner room, much more decent than the cellar I had in mind. He can rest and be comfortable, much to my disappointment. Now as for you my dear.” He brought himself closer to the arising Queen, his brown eyes with his own shake, fear, growing tears, truly his emotion, his terror. To worsen it, Khaos brought a hand to take his chin, turning it as he pleased to admired the lovely form of this new coming queen’s face, very similar to how Augusta’s had been, with the rose of her cheeks, her luscious lips and the soft curls. He had to make use of it, a sicken smile on his lips again, many alarms going through Feliciano’s entire being.

“Take his highness to the Queen’s room, only fitting, let him be attended well, I shall invite him to dinner tomorrow.” He expected, delighted, a smile that any host could hold, but it didn’t fit with the fact that it was Khaos, that this was the dark castle inside the field, both the only Hearts, no moment giving calm to Feliciano to think that Khaos could be kind and forgiven now.

“Take them away,” he commanded lastly before he turned away to other halls, to other matters, the swoon of his robes like an erase to keep them behind, uncaring to the continued fights the two made as they were beginning to be moved away.

“Ludwig! Ludwig!” Feliciano managed to constantly call out to him, trying to find escape, hoping the reach of his hand could do something to bring him close once again.

Before he knew it, doors were shut in his face and he was taken elsewhere.

#Feliciano and the King of Hearts #fatkoh #f&tkoh #gerita #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

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sidrisa-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Power and Magic

Read it here on AO3

Pairings: Loki x Reader and the lightest Sif X Thor

Chapter: 9/104 Borrowed and Returned

Warnings: the usual: sex, death, and violence with light smatterings of misogynoir

Summary: The princes come with their exalted Father arriving amidst a hail of pomp and pageantry all parties would rather forgo. This is war, where men die, their blood purchasing land and peace until it’s time for more men and more blood. But your mother adheres to the old rules of hearth and hospitality. The Lords of Asgard must be given their due despite the grim business precipitating their arrival. It is too bad they don’t deserve it. There is nothing to recommend him, Loki, Prince of Asgard. He is rude and cold and childish. You try to find some merit in him. You find none. Exactly none. But maybe, after trial and tribulation,

You will.

You wake in your bed the next morning and it's moved, now instead of across the room from the window it’s right by it. You wake with bright sunshine in your face, greeted by clear open sky dotted ice white clouds. You wake with an empty hand, your father’s dagger gone--replaced with a folded note.

Tit for tat Earn it back Horse Girl Prince Loki

Even his script is pompous, embellishments stretching to fill the paper.

You crush the note with a sigh but a smile. You can play this game.

And if you are, you must regain your strength.

Today you try walking, hoping you can remain on your feet for longer than a few heartbeats. Your knees knock together and you can’t help the laughter.

“When you’re right.” You mumble to yourself, acknowledging Loki’s jest wasn’t too far off the mark. You do walk like a newborn foal. But like newborn foals, you steady quickly, at the end of an hour you’re panting, worn out nearly completely.

But you’re standing.

You think of Loki, planning how you'll take your dagger from him. You won’t be able to physically wrest it back from him, not yet. But you think you might be able to catch him off guard with how fast you’ve improved your strength today. He won’t be expecting it, you might be able to use that to your advantage.

You’re excited for nightfall, to test your theory and your better legs. When the nurses take their leave of you at dusk, you watch the door from your perch in the window sill, waiting.

And waiting.

You wait until your candles gutter out, until you can’t keep your eyes open anymore. You fall asleep against your window, back turned to the sky.

He will not inherit, but he is still a Prince, and being Prince means having responsibilities beyond entertaining the delusions of an exiled Princess. The dagger tempts him from its home in his pocket and he can’t resist brandishing it during his meeting with the palace comptroller. Thor gets the war meetings, gets to greet the dignitaries, and discuss policy.

Loki gets the budget meetings.

The Prince spins your dagger in his open hand, noting its exceptional balance and wicked sharpness.

‘This is very well made.’

The handle is wrapped in leather, the intricate designs the Horse Lords are known for are etched into the red-tan hide. He traces the pattern as the coin counter drones on and notices some patterns repeat in recognizable shapes.

Words.

For my Little Princess. Love Papa

The words look like swirl patterns that extend around the length of the handle, a cursory look and one could only tell they were mere designs. Deeper inspection reveals the hidden message--known only between father and daughter. A puzzle pieces fits home in his mind.

No wonder she hates when I call her that, the moniker is special.

“Sentimental fool.” Loki’s dry chuckle makes the comptroller stutter, thinking the Prince is threatening him with the way he’s twirling that wicked looking blade.

“I..uh...My Lord...I will...don’t worry about the shortfall, I’m...sure it's nothing!”

He’s startled from his thoughts of you forcing him to acknowledge the man bungling his presentation.

“Fine! Carry on!” Loki rises and stretches, he’s been here blathering with these peons for far longer than intended.

It makes him late for the family dinner which Thor doesn’t let slide without comment.

“It seems the princess is taking up all of my brother’s coveted time.”

Loki bristles but says nothing, answering only his mother when she asks, “Is she well today?”

“I have not seen her.”

“Will you?”

“Of course he will!” Thor booms. “He cannot stay away. She is the most diverting company in the palace. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Her silence is far more intelligent the sum of all words you’ve ever uttered. So yes, I meant what I said!”

“You two fools can’t go an hour without fighting.” Odin sighs. “Loki, from what your mother tells me the princess will be well soon.”

“Yes. The filly will be kicking and neighing within the fortnight, I suspect.”

“Good, then we must consider returning her to her uncle. Have the healers assess when she will be ready to travel.”

“What?”

His father is not known for his sentimentality. Odin is efficient, effective. He is iron handed and iron willed. He has to be to keep Asgard protected from within and without. He’s also a cruel, petty, shortsighted, bastard but that's his own bias speaking. Objectively, Loki never thinks his father is abjectly cruel, not without good reason. At least he didn’t until now. “We’ll return her in a fortnight, sooner if she's well.”

You'll die. He thinks with icy clarity. Not right away. Maybe not even violently. You're royalty, maybe you'll get the kinder, gentler deaths that feel like silk scarves wrapped around necks or tastes like poison slipped into wine.

But if you go back, you will die. And Loki, no matter how much he doesn’t understand whatever he feels about you, he knows this:

You cannot die.

“No.”

His hands are under the table, in his pocket, squeezing your dagger.

“What did you say boy?”

Incurring Odin’s wrath means nothing to him. He presses his argument further. “You cannot just return her like a borrowed book.”

“Nor is she your toy!” Odin thunders, rage ignited like a storm making landfall. “She is the subject of a foreign sovereign nation, one who’s asked for her back. Asgard cannot keep her!”

“Brother?” Thor has to swallow a mouthful of mutton before he can continue. “Why does this matter so much? She’s a princess. She’s well. She has to go home. I daresay it’s what she wants.”

“Because her uncle will kill her you simpleton! You sending her back is the same as condemning her to die!”

Thor and Odin are so obviously son and father, the evidence clear in the same way their brows furrow in confusion.

“But the letter,” Thor starts. “When I was there, her uncle…”

“Is a liar and who better to know them than I?”

“Loki calm yourself. You overreach and overreact. We will send her back as soon as she is healthy. Heed your father boy!”

Loki rises from the dinner table, fury burning away his better senses. He screams at his family.

“Do either of you ever think for one moment beyond what’s put in front of your face?! That letter, that show he put on for Thor is all a fabrication to disarm you, make you think his actions the night of the coup were the will of the people. But if you had an ounce of cunning you’d realize--”

Loki huffs when his words receive no traction, his family simply stares at him. “Am I talking too fast? Do I need to slow down father? Fine. Listen.” Loki measures his voice, reins in his flashfire anger and cools it to a low simmer.

“The Uncle returns home. The queen is dead. By rights her daughter should assume the throne. But...he is of royal blood, circumstance of birth order denying him a throne. He could never forcibly usurp power because the army, though he commands it, is mostly loyal to his sister. That army is decimated now, its remains loyal to the brother and the others who aren’t, are now far outnumbered. The kingdom is guarded sparsely by the Royal Cavalry and Palace Guards--the former can be taken easily unawares by the latter commanded by his own daughter!”

“Son,” Frigga tries and fails to calm him. “How do you know all this? We’ve no reason to believe…”

“Because it’s what I would have done!”

“Brother please, calm yourself.”

“Send her back and you kill her. What did you say mother, that it is our honor to care for her in her hour of need. How about now?”

“SILENCE!” Odin has had enough, he’s tolerated his youngest son’s disrespect for long enough. “You’ve forgotten, my son, the basics of respect. You are confined to your chambers under magic ward until such time as you remember. Use that time to also reflect upon who rules Asgard and where final decisions ultimately lie.”

His face falls slack, stricken as though by one of his brother’s thunderbolts. You’re as good as dead and there’s nothing he can do.

“Guards!” Odin calls before a gentle hand from Frigga stops him.

“We don’t need the guards to escort our son unless you mean to lock him in the dungeon.”

“If he continues, I may. You coddle him Frigga.”

“Nevertheless, I will be his guard and I will take him to his rooms.”

“See to it then that he has wards placed on door so he can’t practice any mischief. He is not to see that girl either do you hear?”

“Of course.” Frigga’s smile is indulgent but Loki catches the slight roll of her eyes.

Frigga Allmother rises and waves away the guards that have heeded Odin’s call. “Come Loki. Or do you require the chains?”

He bows his head and follows, seething in his silence.

#power and magic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki x black!reader #mcu fanfiction

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