#lady-in-waiting is who accompanies and assists the queen or princess

[dailytogachako]

princess himiko x lady-in-waiting ochako

[willowed-wisp]

HER KNIGHT, HIS HEART - part seven

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Ser Harwin Strong x female!OC/x reader

WARNINGS: violence, mentions of childbirth, smut, swearing, descriptions of injury

Guinevere Strong was born to Ser Harwin and Lady Elspeth Strong, their first daughter. Elspeth had made a habit of praying to the Mother that her children were not born with Valyrian features. But Harwin’s always dominated, Strong genes proved to live up to their namesake.

Other than the resentment that Rhaenyra possessed for Alicent, it was peace for the couple. Harwin was moving swiftly up in the City Watch; Lord Commander would certainly be his in the next few years.

Alyric proving to be best friend’s with Prince Aegon, they had played together almost every day. Alicent and Elspeth both thought it would be good for them to be raised closely. Guinevere was a little too young to play with the boys, but she merrily played with her mother, who taught her how to hold a sword properly at the age of one.

It was Aegon’s second nameday celebration, it was once tedious for the couple but they had grown used to being in attendance. Alicent would not be able to cope with you with events without the hand holding of her elder sister.

Lady Strong found herself holding her daughter- brushing shoulders with her father-in-law and brother-in-law. Watching the silver glint course up to the large marquee tent. The royal carriage.

“I’ll take care of the little munchkin,” a calm voice from a very massive knight, she couldn’t help but smile. That was why she married him- handing her mini-double to the man. Now amongst the brunette strands was deep seated auburn. Guinevere gave a high giggle- cuddling into her father’s blue top. The Strong sigil prominent in the middle of his chest, “See… Gwen’s quite fond of me.”

King Viserys appeared from the cabin first, followed by a heavily pregnant Alicent. Aegon was being carried by a lady’s maid, “May I hold my nephew?” A smile, before Aegon was cradled in the woman’s arms. His ocean blue eyes clear as the tides and widened, doing as Gwen had with Harwin. Elspeth rubbed his back, “Happy nameday! Have you been good, little prince?” He nodded, playing with the braids drifting down her long hair.

“He has always adored you. More than I, I’m afraid…” It was a labour for her to work down the steps. She assisted Alicent with one arm while holding Aegon in the other. “I’ve missed you. Everybody has been worried about the babe, they forget they’re in my stomach.” No malice in her tone, maybe frustration from having to be heaved around on royal duties at eight months.

The Queen pulled into a loose side hug. In truth, Elspeth despised the fact her sister was nothing more than a child maker when she was still a child herself at seven-and-ten. The older sister watched as pieces of Alicent were being chipped away. But she witnessed the same with the princess, who had yet to leave the carriage. Alicent caught her sister spying at the shining carriage. “I must sit down and get Aegon settled. Did Ric accompany you?”

“He’s been waiting for his cousin inside the tent for the past half hour,” a nod from the woman, passing her nephew back to one of the women following Alicent.

“I will see you inside, dear sister,” she passed the occupied Harwin Strong, making faces at Gwen. Alicent couldn’t help but find glee from that, “Good day, Ser Harwin.”

Elspeth watched her husband appear bashful, “Your Grace,” he bowed while Gwen mimicked a poorly attempted curtsy. “Well done, Gwenny. We’ll make a lady out of you yet.” Stifling a laugh- locking eyes from across the dirt with the man. The light always made his eyes shine with such pride and sparkle. Another reason she married him.

Knocking at the door of the carriage, ignoring the Kingsguard station at either side. One being Ser Criston Cole, Rhaenyra’s personal guard. He was quite handsome and the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaenyra’s type all over. “The Princess hasn’t given you the slip, Lady Elspeth,” and he had a humour. They had frequent interactions.

“I think I’m able to keep up with her better than you sometimes, Ser Criston…”

He smiled under the helmet. “You may be right there.” She smiled before entering the carriage.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” So she was frustrated… furious. Elspeth made herself known, the princess’ tone cooled down from that rigid edge, “You didn’t bring little Gwen with you…” she huffed, slumping in her seat.

A soft smile from the mother, “The little monkey is outside the carriage with her father. They’re waiting for us.”

“You didn’t kick up such a fuss when Alyric turned two…” Elspeth sat opposite her friend.

A palm of Rhaenyra’s knee, “Ric isn’t a prince. I remember the fusses the King and Queen made on your namedays, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra smirked, “Well… I’d kick up a storm if they hadn’t.”

“Come on, get some sunlight before the moon strikes…”

Rhaenyra led, meeting the gaze of the red haired girl in Harwin’s arm. “Don’t you look pretty today?” She wore blue fabric, the colour matched Harwin’s own outfit. “May I steal away your little lady as my companion?”

The couple nodded in synch. Watching the blonde-locked royal laugh with their daughter- entering the tent, “I’m not going in there. It’s like a fucking vultures roost…”

She couldn’t stand these events but at least she could hunt. Watching the woods, “It’s a perfect day for a quick hunt…” It was her one place of solace; one of her best memories with her mother. Alyrie taught her how to string a bow, the correct tension and so Elspeth Hightower was the best shot in the Seven Kingdoms.

Gwayne had told her as much, as had Harwin… many a time.

The woman only realised blue eyes on her coming out of her stare, “You’re truly gorgeous,” a blush prominent on her cheeks.

“Not too bad yourself, Ser. But I am a married woman,” rough hands cradled her waist- pulling her closer to him. Chest to chest. Sucking her into a deep kiss. Aware of their surroundings, “Did you wish to accompany me hunting?”

Her eyes must have an unforetold depth by how long he stared into them. Harwin shook his hair- less unruly- a leather band holding the curls out of his face, “Maybe later, I want to make sure the children are safe. Jason Lannister is on the prowl for a wife…” The woman unable to hold her cackle down, Harwin shared a smile, “Contain yourself, woman… Gods I love you…” Spoken in joviality.

Another long kiss before pulling away, “I love you, too.”

And so she readied herself, latching Dash’s saddle properly. Bow strung across her body- quiver sitting between her shoulder blades. Mounting the horse was like walking.

She remained at the line of trees before delving further into the woods- she knew them like back of her hand. Even so, if she got lost she could still hear the merriment from the camp. The woman couldn’t wait until Ric and Gwen were old enough to be taught to ride on horseback and for her to teach archery- alike her mother had with her.

The Kingswood was quiet. Maybe the pitching of tents and noise had scared away every game creature. Only her.

Or so she thought.

Hearing shouting from afar. And the canters of horses.

Like a whirlwind, whipping Dash around. Barrelling to where the sounds were. Finding the princess charging down- they were near the small pond. Without a second thought, “Harghh!” Reigns crashing, Dash living true to his name. Winding around the side of Rhaenyra and her steed. Grasping the bridal of the horse. Angling them to the side. An almost instant stop.

Glimmer of frosted cloak and armour, “You really should be a Kingsguard… you were like fucking lightning…” Ser Criston Cole, out of breath and out of his depth. Rhaenyra looked between the pair- Elspeth knew she debated bolting.

“Not a chance, Rhaenyra…” A monotone order barked to her superior. “Ser Criston, thank you for your service… but I know the Kingswood like the back of my hand. I will see the Princess safely returned.” He gave a nod. Hesitating- as he should. Elspeth was not part of the royal household, he needn’t follow her order.

The woman respected that.

Rhaenyra turned to the knight, “You may leave, Ser Criston. Tell the Lord Hand that Elspeth wanted to hunt- he will surely relay the message to the King,” something was direly wrong.

“Stay safe, Princess. Lady Elspeth.” Before he darted back.

Elspeth didn’t focus on him for long, turning to a distressed Nyra, “Did you prefer to speak? Or ride?”

No words needed, as they rode further in the trees. It was still perfect weather.

So much for a ‘quick hunt’. As the moonlight sprinkled down upon them, procuring a fire. They hadn’t really spoken a word, taking in the fresh forest air. Tree bark and the smell of sap calmed her, as did the hoots above from owls peering down. “I’m of age for marriage. Jason Lannister was leering over me today. Then my father… are you sure you don’t want to run away on dragonback with me?” A subtle head shake as she held a dagger.

“No. As much as a bed to myself sounds tempting,” she sliced an apple- handing pieces to Rhaenyra, “You will eventually be forced to marry and my father will continue to plot against a woman on the throne,” Nyra’s eyes icy at her words.

Before they melted, “You’re the only one who doesn’t try to manipulate me or hold an agenda… I don’t want to marry. Surely being heir is enough.”

“Even your father had to marry,”

“Another scheme curated by Otto Hightower…” head in her hands, “Why must people fold for such power?”

A shrug of her shoulders, “I’ll give you counsel when I find that out myself, Princess,” it was a mystery to even her. She didn’t know the inner workings of her father’s agendas for she possessed none of her own. Seeing her friend like that made her insides coil, “But I’ve learnt that rash moves only cause for unforetold heartache… if you are to do anything, be honest about it to Alicent- she loves you so- she’ll have your best interests at heart.”

“She ordered for me to come today- as my Queen… the Lord Hand taints her. I will not put my faith in a puppet-.”

Several twigs shattering at a time.

The Princess went to shout but Elspeth clasped a hand over her mouth. Dagger in the other hand.

It grew closer and closer.

Brown fur- heaps of it leapt, bound for the princess. A wave of red dazzled in the campfire glow. Flicker of sliver from her dagger- Valyrian steel- lodged in the creatures eye. Wide jaws lodged in her arm- though she remained unaware.

Whether it killed the beast, Elspeth didn’t know. Its remaining eye followed her- iris faded to a dull blackness- as the long dagger plugged its way into the centre of the thick skull. She heard the crunch and felt the softened jelly of brain through Harwin’s anniversary gift. Others gifted their wives jewellery- which she had no use for. The Strong sigil proud on the side.

Danger had passed. The horses calmed by palms caressing their hair, “Hush, Dash…” Only then noticing the undulations with lilac bruising surrounding burgundy lacerations dripping with red hot fluid. That was going to hurt when that buzz passed. Ripping a piece of her underclothes away- wrapping as a tourniquet around the top of her arm.

She’d had a few mishaps dismounting Ebrion, she’d gotten used to tending her wounds. Throwing some water from her canteen over the gashes- now slowed in their bloodshed. Some of the mess covering her was of the attacker. Nobody was going to believe that Elspeth Strong killed a bear, even when she wore its blood as trophy.

“Are you alright, Rhaenyra?”

The royal patted her on the back, “It shouldn’t surprise me. I’m confused whether it’s the fact you’re Daemon’s daughter or if you were just born to be a Strong…” Silence before laughs of nervousness sounded.

“It was dumb luck. If I hadn’t have pierced its eye and made a swift end- you’d be dragging my carcass back to camp.” She thought what Harwin would do… and the children… next time she couldn’t do something so slapdash.

“Whatever the case, we should drag it back with us. Show those gluttonous lords what a true hunter looks like…”

The dawn echoed above their heads, the pair already up and moving. Fastening the carcass behind them. The horses didn’t seem to struggle even with a she-bear behind them.

Over a hill they watched the sunrise, a white stag dawned at their side. “If that’s not an omen- I don’t what is…” An omen of Rhaenyra being the true heir to the throne. “My father was speaking to all the lords before you arrived about that white stag. How they were going to hunt it yesterday… I guess it never wanted them.”

Silence befallen over camp as they rode in. Horses tired from hauling the carcass.

Deja vu from three years prior when she survived her ordeal at Dragonstone because of Ebrion the Cannibal.

Her injuries less severe this time- but she required a Maester- the wounds needed stitches. But she wore a mask of crimson.

The first face she saw had been that of her son, holding the scarred hand of her heart. Guinevere pointing at her, cupped in his capable wing. She refrained from her emotions- still raw from the event. Harwin didn’t wear an angry scowl just pure wonder.

Her father, though, held a disapproving shake of the head. She had felt a bubbling cauldron of guilt the past three years from being a bastard that she had let him off the hook. But she felt the indignation Rhaenyra was being exposed to by the man.

He was going to be the cause of the end of peaceful times.

They dismounted identically. Unbinding the bear from the horses. She praised Dash, stroking his white mane. A young Alyric ran to his mother- who swung him up in open arms. “Have you been a good boy for your dada?” She’d admit to growing softer since having the children. Heart had only grown; there’s nothing in the Known World quite like motherly love.

“Yes mama,” Hand brushing his eyes, brightness shone through the innocence. She hoped for the rest of her years that she would see such kindness. In all of her children. But in the Red Keep- all the politics - that was anything but possible.

Returning to the Red Keep was a relief. Strange looks received. She probably appeared stranger to them.

Submerged body in the piping hot waters, a sigh fell from her lips. She felt calm in the water bath, alone to mull over her thoughts.

Something behind her, with reflex she managed to hurl the thing into the depth. A chuckle sounded, “And those men thought you couldn’t have killed that bear…” It had been a close call the day that had passed, she and the princess blessed the Stranger hadn’t greeted them.

She was Strong after all.

The woman came back to her senses, “I apologise, Harwin-,” his name caught in her throat as that blanched shirt became transparent- able to see the hair on his broad chest, cling to every muscle he possessed. Her core molten and mouth drooling.

A hand grabbed her jaw with such finesse she didn’t have time to react. Steam sizzled between them as that hunger rose. Tactile fingers pulled the woman onto his solid thighs. No room remained, just skin and drenched clothing.

Elspeth built as much friction she could, grinding down onto the cock beneath her heat. Kisses broken from sounds of pleasure, they echoed in the barren stone room. Water rose as he added thrusts, brushing against her sensitive bud.

She whimpered against his lips as his fingers found her centre- keening them in and dragging them out. Any sense of space a memory- arms wrapped around his neck, panting into his ear. “Oh, fuck,” a mewl- high pitched, “Fuck, Breakbones,” she knew that name made him feral and depraved. Knuckle-deep in her, ducking them both into a tongue-lashed kiss beneath the water.

Then he stopped, instead rushing to remove his garments- in no hurry with the top but the trousers and his underwear moved to the side. He pulled her down, atop his length. Sinking down. She revelled in the low rumble of her husband. As he grew harder when he thrusted upward.

Nails maiming his clothes shoulders, before throwing the fabric off herself. It didn’t have a chance to dry as the bath overflowed with the tweaks of his hips- rutting into her at such a pace it had her seeing stars. Elspeth plainly trembled, allowed her husband to fuck her while she rode him.

He dipped her down back into the water- capturing her with his lips. Heads dunked again. Either of his hands hooked beneath her knees, buried deep inside. “Oh Gods…” Gritted teeth, vision white. Whining in pure carnal pain as the man moved. “Harwin…” Spoke in his ear.

Back pressed against the wall, unable to leave that azure gaze. All while he stood- her legs hooked around his hips. Face changed all the while his hips picked up speed with less precision- hitting that spot over and over. Elspeth’s moans growing louder in chorus with his own.

And that same sensation spread through her pussy up her thighs and lower back. Only seeing light in his eyes. He reached his own rise.

Foreheads pressed against each others’. “Fuck,” Harwin breathed on her lips.

“When I said to put another babe in me. I didn’t mean so soon… we’re going to have a tiny army- one to rival the Known World.”

“Don’t give me ideas, my heart… I would gladly watch you carry my children any day.”

One week later and Daemon with the Sea Snake’s alliance defeated the Triarchy- reclaiming the Stepstones. Elspeth should have been happy- the Kingdoms could use their usual shipping lanes without worry again. But the wool had been removed from her eyes when he left… he was her true father- he knew that- and he would play on it as much as his mouth would allow.

Rhaenyra had been on her marriage tour, and Alicent had been more closed off with her. Luckily she had the kids, though that had her on edge. She required headspace. Ebrion had still not taken to being housed in the Dragonpit- he resided in a cave mere minutes on foot from the Red Keep.

With Ric playing alongside Prince Aegon and Gwen asleep it was an opportune time.

She had grown into a great rider, and the pair had taken to each other handsomely. She saw Rhaenyra’s ship in the distance… “Faster, Ebrion! Down!” Directing in High Valyrian. Rubbing his iridescent scale. They swooped down, a grumble from her dragon, as they passed a scarlet mass coming from the opposing direction.

Caraxes.

“Be calm, Ebrion… they’re friendly-ish,” Her dragon drowned out The Blood Wyrm. And had more experience. If Daemon ever wanted a fight- he would be sorely mistaken. Though Caraxes had known battle experience as did the Prince… nobody was sure where ‘The Cannibal’ came from. They knew he was old and vicious but that worked for Elspeth- sounded like Otto Hightower.

Caraxes was not in sight, “Welcome back, Prince…” She knew his tricks, “Well done on your victory, the Kingdom is in your debt.” A proud tweak on the lips on his face.

He was smarmy as usual, “I hear you have a family of your own with Ser Breakbones. A boy and a girl… I should like to meet them,” Once she had never been intimidated by the man.

Back then she had nothing to lose.

Now she had everything to.

She was the one to bolt home. No tail between her legs.

Elspeth ran straight to her family’s chambers, alarming her dutiful husband, “Calm, Elsie…”

“He’s back! Daemon is back!” Hyperventilating and he didn’t know what to do; panic rife in his eyes. “I can’t protect them from him…”

Steadying her, a hand on either shoulder. Eyes matching, “Who is ‘them’, my heart?”

Water filling her eyes, “The children.” Something barbaric awakened looking into his eyes.

They glared, “If he lays a hand on my fucking children, there will no longer be a Prince to the Iron Throne…”

The conversation between Elspeth and Daemon with short, taunting and blunt. She debated whether to go to Driftmark, but not even that was safe. Daemon was promised to Laena Velaryon. It seemed Rhaenys’ offer would go to waste for that time being.

Daemon had attempted to abscond Rhaenyra, but she was happily playing with Gwen to attend his night of debauched appetites. She kept Elspeth company while Harwin was on patrol.

When he returned and the princess had left, she made quick work of his Gold Cloak and armour.

Princess Helaena Targaryen was born, and she became an aunt to two. Elspeth wished that her and Gwen would play as their older brothers did.

She found out she was with babe the day of Rhaenyra and Laenor’s wedding feast. The Maester said she must have been two months along. “Our little army has expanded, Ser Strong,” placing his hands on her stomach. That excitement never wore away, it seemed to grow. Having known the wonders of raising a child- they may have been young still but had given their parents much joy.

The tourney and feasting was welcome, as Harwin was competing. He had never taken her necklace off during the jousts nor melees. She upheld her promise of always giving him her token. “Lady Elspeth Strong! Would you do me the pleasure of receiving your favour?”

She stood, the same necklace and same stance- his babe in her stomach this time around, “Don’t push it, Strong…” Rhaenyra giggled beside Laenor- who looked content. Though Nyra had divulged Elspeth about Laenor’s true taste in companion. It didn’t bother her- love was love. Nobody should feel alienated for that.

Her husband was worse for wear at the end of the tournament- the joust against Criston Cole broke his clavicle. The Kingsguard apologised profusely, Harwin laughed it off- though his wife worried. Running down to the infirmary.

In two months it was healed, Gwen had missed being carried around on his shoulders. Daemon had kept his distance, the Seven had been merciful.

Four months after- Elspeth began her labours. The easiest one of the three children. Harwin couldn’t care less if he had another girl- they would surely make more heirs… they surely couldn’t keep their hands off one another.

Lilyth Strong was only birthed eight months before Rhaenyra’s own. Jacaerys Targaryen. Not Ser Laenor’s.

Valyrian genes running true. Though Elspeth knew who warmed Rhaenyra’s bed chambers.

And she thought her friend had made a mistake choosing a man under oath and also of smallfolk birth.

But she knew better than most, that parentage made little difference to the individual- not so much for their reputation.

___________________________

Hope that chapter was not horrible :)

Thank you for reading- to be continued!

If you wanna be added to the taglist- just message me or comment!

Series taglist:-

@llynx7 @babyred7 @felicisimor

[fangirlvibez]

The Festival of Hearts (a royal AU) - Introduction

Characters: King!Jake “hangman” Seresin x Queen!female!reader, Royal Huntsman!Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Master of Arms!Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, lady-in-waiting!Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, Royal Advisor!Robert “Bob” Floyd, King Champion!Javy “Coyote” Machado, Queen Champion!Reuben “Payback” Fitch and Queen Champion!Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia

Warnings: mention of arrange marriage, mention of dead parents and passing away during childbirth, mention of hanging, mention of killing, mention of illness, mention of attacking a person, inaccuracies in terms of the Middle Ages (Let me know if I forgot a warning)

Summary of the story: princess, now Queen Y/N (Y/M/N) Y/L/N was forced into marrying King Jake “Hangman” Seresin. Leaving her own kingdom, Eldoria, behind she left to live and rule Jakes kingdom, Misthaven. The time for an age-old tradition in Y/N kingdom came. Miraculously the Queen convinces Jake to invite her old village to come celebrate the tradition with them. This is the story on how the ruthless King learns how to love his Queen.

A/N: English is not my first language, so if there is any spelling or grammar errors: please let me know

Next part - masterlist

Queen Y/n (y/m/n) l/n used to be Princess of Eldoria. She was sighed away after the king, her father, passed away of an unknown illness. The Queen, her mother, passed away during her birth. Y/n was only 19 when she had to look after her small kingdom.

When other kingdoms heard she became queen, they target Eldoria. Y/n’s kingdom didn’t have a big army and was easily over powered by others. Her father knew she would be targeted the moment other kingdoms found out he passed away. Eldoria was the smallest kingdom of them all, only having a small village of a little over one hundred villagers. Her father made an agreement with the kingdom Misthaven, agreeing on giving his daughter away to King Jake Seresin, to assure she would be saved from a violent attack from enemy kingdoms. Why her father chose the most ruthless young king to marry her, she would never understand.

King Jake “Hangman” Seresin is the king of Misthaven. Becoming king at the ripe age of 17 after his dad passed away in an attack between Misthaven and an enemy kingdom. Now at age 21 he is know to be the most ruthless king to ever exist. Villagers and enemy kingdoms started calling him Hangman after an ambushed village was found where their whole army was hanged. It was later revealed the army of Misthaven ambushed the village, leaded by Jake Seresin.

When the King of Eldoria proposed a marriage between him and his daughter, he originally refused. Only agreeing when his Royal Advisor told him it would help his imagine in his own kingdom and their villagers.

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw is the Royal Huntsman of Misthaven. A Royal Huntsman is an expert tracker and skilled hunter who accompanies the king on hunting expeditions, ensuring their safety and providing sustenance. When the king wouldn’t be available for a battle, he, together with Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, will lead the army in the battle. He got his nickname “Rooster” from the other knights because he was always waking up the earliest to check the castle for any dangers. He isn’t afraid to kill when needed.

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell is the Master of Arms in the kingdom Misthaven. A Master of Arms is a military commander who oversees the kingdom's armed forces and advises the king on matters of defense and security. He makes the attack plans of the kingdom and is the first one that will protect his kingdom.

Natasha “Phoenix” Trace is the lady-in-waiting of the Eldoria Kingdom. A lady-in-waiting is a trusted female attendant who serves the queen closely, providing companionship, assisting with personal needs, and attending to her daily routines. Y/n and Natasha have been friends since Y/n was a young princess. Natasha isn’t afraid in standing up against knights. If woman could become knights, she would be the first one to volunteer. Being Y/n’s lady-in-waiting, she followed her to Misthaven.

Robert “Bob” Floyd is the Royal Advisor from Misthaven. A Royal Advisor is a wise and trusted counselor who offers guidance and expertise in matters of governance, diplomacy, and strategy. They provide insight to the king and help shape their decisions. Bob convinced Jake into marrying Queen y/n after he heard the dark rumors the villagers spread about their King. Bob is convinced the marriage will help Jake into becoming the loving king he needs to be.

Javy “Coyote” Machado is the Kings Champion of Misthaven. A King Champion is the personal knight of a king. This title signifies that the knight is specifically chosen and sworn to defend and protect the king at all costs. Javy and Jake have been best friends since they were little. So it wasn’t a surprise when Jake choose Javy as his champion. Javy would do anything to protect the king, even if it costs his life.

Mickey “Fanboy” García is the Queens Champion of Eldoria. Similar to the King's Champion, the Queen's Champion is selected to be the queen's dedicated defender and protector. They are responsible for ensuring the queen's safety and representing her in tournaments, ceremonies, and other royal events. Mickey became the queens champion at age 14 when the 11 year princess was almost attacked by a dangerous villager. Together with Ruben “Payback” Fitch, he will protect the Queen with his life. Like Natasha, Mickey followed the queen to Misthaven.

Reuben “Payback” Fitch is the second Queens Champion. He was given the role at age 16 when the king started to become ill. The King was scared that more dangerous villagers would attack his daughter now that he couldn’t look after his daughter like he used to do. Luckily the villagers loved the princess and the King didn’t have to worry about his worrying thoughts. Rueben went with the Queen to Misthaven but occasionally would go back to Eldoria to look after the villagers there.

Taglist: @mirrorball-6 @corriegrace06 (let me know if you want to be tagged)

[emma-ofnormandy]

Since finishing my VBB piece, the OC I never really intended to flesh out but was enticed to for a writing event has been camping out at the front of my mind. Because the desire to write for her will not go away, here is a post ‘Strife in London’ scene that opens the way for me to drag this lovely lady into future post season 2 Vikings: Valhalla creations because… well I can.

She sought solace at the end of an empty dock, the ship that had moored there departing only the day before, loaded with soldiers and supplies to a place she did not know. The river below was calm, just beyond, the London bridge almost complete after the destruction it had suffered in the siege. She had not had the pleasure of witnessing the triumphant win of her people, but the story her father had told upon his return unfolded in her mind’s eye and Brigida could almost imagine being there.

It had always been her childhood dream to stand beside her father in battle, to feel the rush that her brother’s had spoken so fondly of, but her mother had made sure such a dream would not come to fruition. A shieldmaiden, she would never be, but if she looked hard enough, she might be able to consider herself a soldier of another sort, one that worked the battlefields of court rather than the open expanse of the land, and though there was little sword fighting to be had, Brigida knew it carried its own risk of bloodshed.

The sound of footsteps echoed against the weathered wood and she glanced over her shoulder to see Agnarr approaching, his brows creased in frustration. A frustration that was, most likely, aimed in her direction.

“If you are here to reprimand me for standing alone on the docks, I will begin to assume women in London cannot go anywhere without accompaniment.”

“Even if that were the case, I doubt you would heed such an order,” he retorted.

She could not help but smirk. The man was no fool, he knew the type of woman he was dealing with, though she had probably left him with little question; she did not imagine most women within London had a precedence for bucking his authority like she did.

He stood a ways back from the dock’s edge, not so close to entice idle gossip from the castle staff who may be watching, but she would not be able to ignore his presence. “Is the Queen in need of me?”

“Not that I am aware.”

Brigida waited expectantly for an explanation, but when nothing came she glanced again over her shoulder at the stoic Viking. “If you are not here to reprimand me and the Queen is not looking for me, pray tell, how can I be of service, Agnarr?”

Something akin to annoyance flickered across his features and Brigida could admit that her interest was piqued. Since the King had become aware of the favors she had assisted the Queen with, she had not been entrusted with further communications to transport. She had assumed that the situation was being handled by other means and her services for such things would no longer be required, but perhaps she had been mistaken.

“Are you at all friendly with Princess Gytha?”

The question caught Brigida off guard. She knew of Gytha, that the Queen cared deeply for her husband’s niece and how she had come to be married to Lord Godwin, but they were not on terms that would be considered friendly. Brigida had not been brought into the Queen’s circle until after Gytha had been married and prior to their common place of London, they had never interacted.

A raider’s daughter from across the sea, no matter what her lineage looked like, was rarely invited to keep company with a princess.

“I cannot say that I am.” Confused, Brigida turned her full attention to Agnarr. “My life prior to London did not allow for much interaction with the ladies of Denmark. Should I be?”

“Do you not like her?”

“I hardly know her well enough to have an opinion. She seems pleasant, but she has only just returned to the company of the Queen after being married.” Brigida’s eyes narrowed, the hair on the back of her neck prickling with the line of questioning. Even if she had a strong opinion of Gytha, Agnarr would not be the man she would share it with. “Has something happened?”

“To Princess Gytha? No. Like you said, she has just returned to London.”

A hollow feeling began to churn in her stomach, uneasy with his inquiries. Though she was not familiar with the princess, that did not mean that Birgida had not done something that the other woman took offense to and now Agnarr was being called out to make her answer for it. She had done quite a bit as of late and though she believed only the Queen to be in on the game, that did not mean others had not found out and now wished to use it against her.

“Forgive me, but I cannot see what my opinion of Princess Gytha has to do with, well, anything.”  

There was movement underneath his beard that she might be able to call a smile, if she was certain the man was capable of such a thing, and its appearance did not ease the apprehension that filled her.

“You have proven yourself to be quite the asset over the past few months. The Queen is grateful for it.”

The hollowness began to recede; she would wager that if the queen was singing her praises that would mean even if she had ruffled the wrong feathers, it would surely save her from the noose.

“It is nothing another lady would not do for her majesty.” 

She did not know where the line of questioning was going or what Gytha had to do with the ledgers she had obtained from Kent. Unless Agnarr had uncovered a connection to her new husband that had previously been overlooked, though it seemed thin at best. Brigida did not know Lord Godwin, only of him, but from the rumors she did not think there was much love lost between him and the other Elderman and connecting himself with their actions would go against his grain. 

“While others would not try, few would be as successful.”

“Careful, Agnarr,” the corners of her mouth lifted in mild amusement, “A more trusting female may mistake your words for a compliment.”

The flicker of a smile she had thought she’d seen quickly disappeared and was replaced by his normal stoic facade. “Then I will add that you may want to make your departure from places less obvious and take care about how you return. There is a rumor amongst the scullery maids that you are having an affair with one of the grooms.”

Brigida tried to muster up some sort of anger as such a farce of a rumor, but she could not find any. If that was what had come out of her comings and goings over the last few months, she could give a sigh of relief. She had imagined far worse to have spread, but it still did not explain his interest in her ties to Gytha.

“I will take that under advisement for the future, but you still have not explained what any of this has to do with Lord Godwin’s wife?”

Agnarr studied her for a moment, almost as if he was reluctant to utter his next thought, and moved past her to stand at the edge of the dock without saying a word, his shoulders scarcely bumping against her as he moved. “How much do you know about what happened within the Queen’s circle prior to your appointment?”

“A little.” Her brows furrowed, the hollow feeling returning as she too turned to face the river. “I know that the Princess had not been the original intended for Lord Godwin and that the King created the match after his return.”

“Princess Gytha became Godwin’s wife after the woman he intended to marry died. It was discovered she had a connection to a would be assassin that targeted the Queen.”

Brigida felt as if the dock beneath her gave way. A woman with such a connection would only meet her death a handful of ways and none of them would be pleasant. “The Lord’s intended was a Lady to the Queen, yes?” To discover that someone so close to the royal family would have such a relation and no one was aware seemed implausible to her.

Agnarr nodded. “Not only that, but she and Princess Gytha had quite a friendship. The Princess was devastated by her death.”

“And Lord Godwin?”

The usually unphased gaze of the Viking darkened and the tension that radiated around him gave away his true feelings about the man in question. “The Lord was very convincing.”

It was what Agnarr did not say that circled in her mind. If Gytha had truly been so impacted by such a loss, it would only seem to reason that the future husband would also appear to suffer deeply. It would be in mutual suffering that a bond could be forged, trust built, and a successful union formed. From the outside looking in, it would appear as if two people simply fell in love over the mutual loss of a friend and loved one.

It appeared the King’s second in command had a different take on the matter. “But you did not believe him?” She ventured.

His gaze flicked to hers for a moment before settling again on the horizon. “I was not the only one who had concerns.”

The Queen then, Brigida mused. She would not be one who would take treason lightly, particularly within her own circle, and she would not let sleeping dogs lie while others investigated such accusations. If there was one thing she knew, it was that Queen Emma was very hands on in her role.

The unfurling of such secret happenings within the walls of the castle were eye opening and, Brigida had to admit, a bit intriguing, but she still could not see where she would be involved. All of this had already passed.

“Why tell me this,” she finally asked, her gaze steady on the man beside her. She had no ties to London, no connection to the previous Lady’s maid and little influence outside the walls that would be of any benefit to Agnarr or the Queen. Hell, she had no influence within the walls, Agnarr has inferred as much when he mentioned the scullery maids thought she was bedding a groom. Surely, a woman of influence would be able to land a man of higher standing than that.

She was, simply, a Viking woman thrust into a Saxton world with little to offer besides the inclination for adventure and the dream to be something she could never be.

“You have proven yourself an ally to the Queen,” he murmured, “And have proven you have an eye and an ear for things that do not appear to be right.”

“I was not the one who dissected the ledger pages.”

“But you are the one who managed to come into possession of them,” he reminded her. “And you were the one who rode out, alone, to do your Queen’s bidding with little thought to reputation or risk.”

“As I told you in the stable that day, and in the courtyard weeks later, it was simply a ride. Nothing more.”

His snort of amusement was sign enough that he had long caught on to what she had been up to, or in part suspected, and simply had not stepped in to stop her and Brigida did not see a reason to argue. There was no denying he had been suspicious of her from the moment he had caught her in the stable alone that day and it would be only natural for such suspicions to grow as she continued her erratic flights from London.

“So, what is it that you are asking of me, Agnarr? You have said a lot of words standing here but told me very little.”

The verbal barb seemed to irritate him, like nettle against skin, but when he spoke again, he met her gaze. “With Princess’s Gytha’s return to London and her connections now changed, she may be in need of a friend.”

Brigida arched her brow. She had barely managed to befriend the ladies she was in close daily contact with, how would she manage such a task with one that she hardly knew. “And you think I am the best fit for that role?”

“I think you and the princess come from like families and that she would find it easier to confide in someone of similar background than one whose home has always been London.”

She was to be a confidant to the lady of a Lord, one whom the crown seemed to have concerns about. It was Agnarr’s way of putting eyes and ears into places he would otherwise be excluded. Afterall, a Lady’s maid with similar background was far less intimidating and more plausible a friend to a fellow woman than a King’s soldier.

“You want me to spy for you, then. Is the Queen on board with this?”

Something shifted in his gaze, a flicker of shadow that she was not even certain was there. “The Queen would not turn down a trusted allie’s assistance.”

What he meant to say, she surmised, was that the Queen was ignorant to the plan that her husband’s man was putting in play. And yet, he felt strongly enough to make the move all the same. For all the irritation the man had stoked in her through their previous encounters, the one thing she did trust in him was his instinct. If he was concerned enough to approach her on such a matter, given their testy acquaintance up to now, it spoke mountains about the possible threats that lingered under their nose and what he thought of her previous deeds for the crown. 

Brigida pondered the repercussions of taking on such a position and noticed that he made no promises of safety or protection should any part of this discussion be discovered; and yet, she found little worry in that. She had never considered it when helping the queen find proof against the Ealdorman of Kent so why would she be concerned about such a thing now.

“I cannot make any promises that I am an agreeable female to others or that I can be of much comfort to the Lord’s new wife, but I certainly can offer any support that Princess Gytha may need. After all, she is still a Viking.”

Agnarr’s beard twitched once more, seemingly pleased with the outcome of his discussion and with a discreet nod of thanks, he turned on his heel and retreated towards the castle wall. That was all she would get from him, she imagined, nothing more than a nod and an expectation for answers, but as the waters crashed against the dock and gulls flapped overhead, Brigida could not help the tremor of excitement that coursed through her.

No, she would never wear the armor of a shieldmaiden, but there was no question that she too was a soldier.

[weixuldo]

Will You Stay?

Padme x F!Reader

(a/n: soooooo we’re pretending people who are chosen as handmaidens have to go through this type of training to be brought up to serve and at the end of he training there is a ceremony where the girls are presented to the princess. she then chooses her personal handmaiden who accompanies her 99% of the time)

the day you have been dreading for years is finally here.

Warnings: cursing, abandonment issues, yelling

______________________________________

Naboo, your beautiful homeworld, full of rolling fields and beautiful bodies of water that glisten in the light. The beautiful palace atop the cliffside that houses a fabled princess. It stands proudly as a nation of stability. 

You were selected to become a handmaiden of the princess at a young age. You were placed in a secluded area of the palace where you were taught, among other girls, how to be a proper handmaiden.

You were to give yourself to the queen-to-be. You spent hours learning about her habits and how to mimic her voice. The only part you enjoyed was the training you were required to complete.

Most of the other girls only liked the assistance and regal parts of this schooling. But you liked to be outside in the courtyard. Using a polearm or a blaster to hit targets and refining your hand to hand combat skills.

It was the only time you felt like you weren’t just becoming a copy of the elusive princess.

At first you revolted the fact that you would have to basically be a living shadow of another girl, all throughout your preparation you hated the idea of having to meet her. But when the day finally came, when you saw her.

Everything changed.

_____________________________________

They had spent hours doing your hair and makeup to get you ready to be presented to your new lady. You huffed as the older girls patted powder all over your face. You hated the way the lipstick tasted, you just wanted to have this whole ordeal over with.

You were pushed through some doors and ordered to wait until another maiden came to get you. 

You sat for a while tracing the ridiculously intricate patterns on your dress when the curtains in front of you began to ruffle. You looked at them curiously only to see a girl around your age, pop out from behind them.

She had dark brown hair and a few beauty marks on her face. She looked at you with wide eyes and smiled. 

“Hi,” she said, walking towards you. She was beautiful.

She was wearing typical servants gear, but you had never seen her before. 

“Hey, are you new here? I don't know if you should be here, I don’t want you to get in trouble” you whispered. 

She giggled and linked her arm with yours. “Why are you dressed like that?”.

You sighed before lamenting, “I have to be one of the new handmaidens to the princess. I don't mind, I guess, but I hate feeling constricted.” you tugged at the corset laces of the gown. 

You heard the door being opened and the girl ran back to behind the curtains ``Don't tell them you saw me!” she whispered. 

What an odd girl.

“Have you seen a young girl with dark brown hair around here? She’s wearing a servant's uniform. 

Feeling playful, you shrugged, “No”.

The woman at the door sighed and closed the door. 

The girl sprung from behind the velvet curtains, “Thank you so much!” she said before swiftly designing it.

“Wait! What’s your name?” you asked, but she had already left. 

___________________________________

A few more hours went by, honestly it felt more like days, until you were finally summoned. You were dressed like every other handmaiden and promptly entered the throne room.

The hall was lavishly decked out for the celebration of presenting the maidens to the princess. You begrudgingly held the long robes as you walked behind the other girls. 

The robes you were in were hot and the sequins were scratching at your neck, you were miserable. Finally you reached your stopping point and you stood tall in order for the Princess to examine you. 

The satin red drapes were drawn back and revealed a young girl, around your age, seated on the throne. She was made up and dressed similarly to the maidens, just the slightest bit more formal. Her face was painted white with the traditional red markings. She looked magnificent. 

No.

Focus F/N.

She was the reason you had to learn all this stuff, the reason you were taken from your home, she was-

“I appreciate your loyalty and attendance. I hope to be a just lady for each of you” she said, bowing slightly at you and the other girls. 

But that voice, you were certain that was the voice from earlier. It sounded deeper, more authoritative but there was a soft undertone to it….

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Dorme, who tugged your sleeve to get you to bow. You bowed and the princess descended the marbled stairs to meet your level.

She moved like mist through the forest, so regal. She slowly walked down the line of girls, stopping to bow individually at each one. You were the last in line and anxiously watching her from the corner of your eye. 

She made it to you and you recognized the sparkle in her caramel eyes, your gaze drifted to her cheek, you could still make out her beauty marks through the white makeup.

It was her.

You felt your heart race as she bowed to you. You bowed to her next, as you rose you made intense eye contact with her. Something about her was just so intriguing, once you were at your full height once more, she took a moment to gaze into your eyes. 

“What is your name?” she spoke.

“F/N, M’lady” you replied, blush creeping up your cheeks.

“F/N” she breathed out, almost like a whisper.

You nodded, your legs getting weak.

She turned to face the court and began to speak. 

“I have made my decision, F/N will accompany me as my personal Handmaiden, No further inquiries”.

You were astounded, she chose you?

You saw the look of defeat in the other girl’s eyes and felt bad, some of these girls’ only aspiration in life was to be in the position you just got handed.

Soon the court was dismissed and you were ushered to follow the princess back to her quarters. You were trained as a protector and a handmaiden, so you were expected to tend to her needs…

alone. 

You trailed behind her long robes and closed her chamber doors with a gulp. You turned to face her to see her already looking at you. Something inside told you to bow, or to at least downcast your gaze, but before you could fully bow one of her soft hands caught your cheek. She gently tilted your face to look at her. 

“There is no need to bow” she smiled as she guided you back up. “We are equal, are we not”. Once you were back to your full height she placed her other hand on your arm.

“You’re shaking,” she said.

“I’m sorry M’Lady… I apol-”

You were silenced by her soft lips gently colliding with your own. You were surprised but some part of you told you to lean into it.

It felt… nice.

You could smell her flowery perfume and you could taste her red lip tint. Once you were done you stared at her for a moment. Behind the white powder you could see the slightest tint of pink peppering her cheeks.

She held herself less confidently and she twittled her thumbs. She looked more like just another girl rather than the princess. 

“M’Lady, I- “ you tried to find the right words, were you supposed to be feeling this way? Your job was to protect her, watch over her, not whatever this feeling was.

“Padme,” she said softly.

“Hmm?”

“My name… Please call me Padme,” she said shyly. 

“Ok, Padme,” you repeated.

The two of you stood there for a few quiet minutes, the silence was deafening. She began to walk to the other side of the room before you called out to her. She turned and a jewel from her headdress cascaded to the ground. You swiftly picked it up and tried to reattach it, you were still a handmaiden afterall.

He placed her hands around yours, halting your motions, “Please, keep it” she smiled closing your palms around the jewel. 

You faltered for a moment before you pressed your lips to hers once more. This time it was a tender kiss, you placed your hands on her corseted waist and drew her into you. Time seemed nonexistent, you were simply existing beside her.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while” she admitted shyly once you were parted.

“Me?”

“You’re not like the others, you weren’t competing for my attention. You were just you”

You smiled at her words and blushed. Suddenly you felt a twang of guilt, you hated this “Princess” because the need for her handmaidens took you away from your home…

but the girl standing in front of you now was not the spoiled brat you expected. She was regal, beautiful, and most importantly, kind. 

“Shall I help you settle in for the night, M’Lady” you offered.

She nodded back with a small smile, “Yes, Please”.

And with that you crossed the threshold to her dressing quarters and into your new life.

***

a/n: ik i’m kinda uncoordinated with my upload schedule, but i promise i haven’t forgot about my stories, most of the time i just really want to go in depth but i revise because i’m afraid i get too specific or not specific enough!! but thank you guys for sticking with me, it really means the world!!)

taglist: @xxx-pearl @calamitousvader @wtf-andys @raccoonsaregay @jar-of-moondust

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Royal Households and How they Work

When I say Households, I mean the entourage that follows around the royal family. The household went everywhere with them to care for their needs from the people who would empty their chamber pots to their noble companions. Most royal households are basically the same as noble ones, only on grander scale. Every royal had a household and an entourage as well as every noble at court.

Palace Personnel ~ The Commons

The commons were an intregal part of every household. They made up perhaps 80% of the work force. Royal courts were often on the road and never spent more than a few months at every palace. The court was constantly moving. Some positions were not permanent, meaning certain servants did not travel with the court because they were employed at the palace only. They would be paid by the Monarch's paymaster.

Scullion: The scullion was a relatively easy position to fill so they were often changed as the court went from palace to palace. They would be responsible for scrubbing and cleaning the servants quarters and the kitchens. They would scrub floors with lye, scour pots with sand, sweep put the fireplace and clean up after the other servants. They were the first to rise in a castle and tasked to light all the fires in the kitchens. Scullions would just be employed to the palace and serve a multitude of chambers

Laundress: The laundress was responsible for the cleaning of anything made of fabric in the household. Since they are handling unmentionables, they knew what happened behind closed bedchamber doors. They knew when the King visited the Queen or hadn't, they knew when marriages were consummated or not and they knew when the Queen and royal women were not pregnant. They often sold secrets to pad their pockets. Laundresses might be permanent staff but sometimes not.

Minstrels: The minstrel was a commoner hired to play an instrument or sing for the entertainment of the royal. A royal might staff a few at a time but they would always have one on hand. The minstrel would likely come with their masters as they travelled. The minstrel might serve the main royal household but a royal might retain their own.

Cook: The cook was one of the most important servants in the household. They would have the task of overseeing the running of the kitchens and keeping supplies in order. They would likely be on call at all times. Henry VIII's cook was often woken in the night because his royal master wanted a midnight snack. The cook was a valued member of the household and would have been highly sought after if they were a very skilled cook. They would have travelled with the joint. Cooks were apart of the greater royal household but often royals retained private cooks for their own use.

Maidservant: The maidservant cleans the castle. She would sweep the floors, scrub them, empty the chamberpots, get rid of the ashes from the fire and ready the fire for later. She would make up the bed or strip it for the laundresses. She would wash anything that needed washing including furniture and ornaments. She was likely not a travelling servant and would be strictly employed at a single palace.

Jester: The jester was the hired entertainer. Working under the master of revels, the jester had the daunting task of making the monarch and their family laugh. They would tell jokes, tell stories, cause havoc in the court for laughs and lighten the mood. The most successful jester of all time was Will Somers, jester to Henry VIII. Will broke bad news to the infamously bad tempered monarch and got away with things that would have sent others to the block. Will survived most of Henry's reign, his head intact. Jesters would be apart of the main household though each royal might have one of their own.

Positions within the Royal Household ~ Noble

Nobility were always welcomed at court. They eat at court, slept at court and were cared for by the monarch. Some nobles had to sing for their supper and most were hired as royal servants. They weren't exactly scrubbing floors and would be paid handsomely with land that would generate wealth for them

The Steward/Seneschal: This person was the head of the royal's staff. They would have the task of running the lands and servants their master or mistress. The steward served as a backup and assistant in all the tasks even representing their master or mistress when they were unavailable. Would be a high ranking noble. Each royal household would have them.

Treasurer of the Household: The treasurer was the accountant and pay master. They would be in charge of ensuring debts were settled, wages were paid and the household was running within the budget. This was a coveted position because it gave the treasurer insight into the financial situations of the royals. Such info was wroth its weight in gold. Each royal would have one.

Usher: The Gentleman Usher would be in charge of escorting guests into the royal chambers and into the royal presence. They would act as a go between their royal master/mistress and the guest often going back and forth with messages. It was just as coveted as the position of chamberlain but with less responsibilities.

Master of Horse: The Master of Horse was in charge of seeing to the horses of their master. They would oversee the grooms or the stableboy/hands who were employed at the stables to actually care for the horses. The master of horse would ensure that the stables were in order and the horses were up to parr in order to bear royalty across the kingdom. Each royal would have one but there would a main one who acted as overseer.

Master of the Wardrobe/Mistress of the Robes: These are the nobility who are employed to look after the clothes of the royal they serve. This would mainly involve a managerial position, overseeing the inventory of the royal wardrobe (a warehouse like building that housed the clothing) and placing orders for new clothes. It was a tidy job that rarely involved getting the hands dirty. Each royal would have one.

Chamberlain/Valet: The chamberlain is employed to look after the Lord's bedchamber. This was the most sought out position as they effectively were the gateway into the royal presence. Their main task was making sure their boss was comfortable and happy. Could be a well born commoner or a noble. Each royal would have one.

The Page: All royal households had pages. They would be a young noble boy about seven years old sent to their royal master. He would be in charge of tidying up after the lord, carrying messages to other servants and occupants of the castle and serving him at meals. Unlike others on the list, the page would not be paid. His experience was his payment as he would learn the running of a court and how to be courtier. Each royal would have one.

Squires: Squires were like pages though they only served the men. They would accompany their royal master to battle, look after his armour and mail, ensure that his lord's horse was saddled, caring for their master's weapons. The squire would always be a young nobleman on the cusp of becoming a knight.

Governess: The governess is a noblewoman woman employed to oversee the Monarch's children's household. She would be the first teacher a royal child would have and would oversee the nursemaids who would have care of the physical person of the child. She would be appointed when the child was four or five. Notable governesses include Katherine Swynford (wife of John of Gaunt and mother to the Beaufort line), Margaret Pole (wife of Tudor Loyal Sir Richard Pole, sister of the last York heir Edward of Warwick, daughter of George Duke of Clarence and niece to King Edward VI and Richard III), Kat Ashley, Margaret Bryan, Madame de Maintenon and Baroness Lehzen. Most unmarried Princesses retained their governesses while Princes generally outgrew their governesses after they were breeched.

Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber: They were the male companions of a King or Prince, sort of like ladies in waiting but manly. They would accompany the King or Prince everywhere they would go and shared duties with Groom of the Stool (royal toilet paper dispenser) and the Chief Gentleman of the Chamber (overseeing the staff and maintaining the chamber). They would help their master get ready, serve him at the table and organize hunting and games to keep him entertained. Gentlemen and companions where often chosen for their connections as well as their master's own opinion. Henry VIII's gentlemen included: Sir William Compton (ward of Henry VII and heir to rich lands), Sir Henry Norris (the grandson of William Norris who fought with Henry's father at Stroke and a relation to the Yorkists Lovells), Sir Anthony Denny (son of Sir Edmund Denny Baron of the Exchequer) Sir Michael Stanhope (brother in law to Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset), Charles Brandon (ward of Henry VII and son of Tudor Loyalists)

Ladies in Waiting and Maids in Waiting or Maids of Honour: These are the female attendants to the Queen or Princess. Ladies in Waiting were married while the Maids were unmarried. They would have to attend their mistress wherever she went, help her get ready, keep her chambers in order, write letters for the Queen and maintaining her honour. They were chosen for their connections. Using Katherine of Aragon as an example, her Ladies in Waiting included: Maria de Salinas (daughter of Juan Sancriz de Salinas secretary to Isabella, Princess of Portugal and a Spanish courtier in the service to Katherine's parents, wife of Baron Willoughby de Ersby), Elizabeth Howard (the daughter of Thomas Howard, 2nd Duke of Norfolk, sister to Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk and wife to Thomas Boleyn, ambassador to France), Anne Hastings (daughter of William Hastings, 1st Baron Hastings, wife to George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury and Lord Steward.), Agnes Tilney (wife to Thomas Howard, Earl of and 2nd Duke of Norfolk.), Elizabeth Scrope (wife of John de Vere, Earl of Oxford, a loyal Tudor lord), Margaret Scrope (wife of Sir Edmund de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk cousin to the King), Anne Stafford (sister of the Duke of Buckingham, married Sir George Hastings, Earl of Huntington and daughter of Henry Stafford, 2nd Duke of Buckingham (cousin to the King) and Lady Katherine Woodville (sister of King Henry VIII's grandmother and his great aunt by her marriage), Elizabeth Stafford (sister to Anne Stafford wife Robert Radcliffe, Lord Fitzwalter and Earl of Sussex around). Their connections are what got them their places and you can see why they were chosen.

Accommodation

Accommodation can be a difficult thing to sort both as a writer and a steward. You might have a palace of 200+ bedchambers in which you must house a staff of 500-/+, a varying amount of nobles, the royal family (of a varying amount) and their own households. When assigning rooms it is best to think of a Russian nesting doll. Start from the inside and work your way to the outside.

The best rooms go to the monarch, their consort and their children/siblings/parent(s). These chambers would include the bedroom, a drawing room/ common area, a privy, a closet (a small chamber that can be used for prayer or work). They would be furnished with the best cloth, the best candles and whatever furniture brought by the resident since most royal courts travelled from palace to palace. They will also have chambers for their personal servants such as ladies in waiting and grooms.

The second best set of rooms would go to the highest ranking nobles/people in the court. These rooms would be less fancy and a little smaller. These would be given to from titled nobility descending from those of Ducal rank (Dukes/Duchesses) or even members of the council such as Thomas Cromwell in Tudor times.

The next set would be considerably smaller, perhaps minus a closet or a drawing room. Given to lower nobility.

The next level of chambers would be smaller perhaps only the bedroom and a common area given to minor nobles.

The last set of rooms would be small and only hold enough room for a bedroom. Servants would have to sleep on the ground on pallets beside their masters.

Any other guests at court would have to stay at off-site locations around the palace in the city. Some nobles at houses around major palaces just in case they arrived late or were kicked out of court.

[anxiousstark]

The Aura Painter | DOB

Painter! Dylan x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 12K (12.057)

Warnings: Mentions of sexism, masturbation (mutual or solo), unprotected sex (this is a fic, be safe), cum play, breeding kink, filthy tbh, some cliché romance scenes. This is my second time writing ‘smut’. But this is the first time writing something so long and so filthy, bear with me.

A/N: This is an idea that I’ve had in mind for so long. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed imagining it. And of course, writing it. If you do, please give it some love and share it. The biggest solo piece I’ve ever written!

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.

BIG MASTERLIST  |  KO-FI

Words you must know for the fic:

Onism (n.) the awarness of how little of the world you will experience.

Heriaeth (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you canot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning. the grief of lost places of your past.

Elysian (adj.) beautiful or creative; divinely inspired; peaceful and perfect.

.

The droplets of rain fell against the glass, leaving a trail which I followed with my gaze. The glistening tear of water disappeared before I could place my finger against the window and imitate that I could command its movement.

The sky seemed to cry, turning a darker shade. Perhaps the sky had lost a lover or perhaps, the one they loved was far from its reach. I could not tell as I never experienced one of those stories.

The books I had to read as a child were those who would teach me how to act and think. But those I read on the confines of my room when everyone was sleeping were different. Those told the story of a beautiful lady who wished to be rescued by a gentleman. I would try not to squeal under my blanket, as that was something, a lady of a high position should not do.

I glanced at the sky again as it screamed, lightly swaying the trees outside while his droplets of tears wetted everything under itself.

"M'lady," I corrected my form, trying to look as straight as possible. Turning around, I glimpsed directly into a pair of green eyes that seemed to lose their brightness as the seasons passed. Those eyes used to be the brightest ones in this palace, but now they were almost colourless, decorated by a couple of wrinkles. "Your mother is asking for your presence at her table."

That was unusual. My mother was a sophisticated distant woman who liked to spend time on her own. Hence, she tried to escape from her responsibilities as a Queen while having breakfast by herself. She would relax outside in the gardens. A small white table filled with her preferred meals, and even if she sought to convince herself, and lie to me about her drink being just a mere juice, everyone knew it wasn't.

"Tell me, Harold," While walking through the corridors of the palace, I noticed once again the monotony. The clicking of my heels appeared to be the only sound, except the melody of the rain falling against hard surfaces. "Did the Queen seem mad?"

Harold tried not to chuckle, knowing that if my parents or any of my siblings were near, he would end up getting struck by executing such a natural gesture. "I must say that the Queen did not ask for the cello man to accompany her this morning with some music."

I gasped, glancing at him to discern if he was teasing me. Harold had been in our family for so many years. I dare to say that he was in this palace before anyone else.

"She must be quite mad, then." I bit my lower lip, trying to think what of the things I have done could have gotten her mad, and how she had discovered them. "Perhaps she found the romance novels hidden in my room?" I muttered to myself.

"M'lady," Harold opened the door to the great hall. "She preferred to eat her breakfast in here as it is raining cats and dogs outside." He whispered, letting me walk in first. I silently nodded my head, wandering closer to my mother, who was sitting on the farthest place even though she was on her own. "My Queen. The young Lady has arrived. If my services are required, I will be waiting outside to escort the young Lady back to her room."

I shivered as soon as Harold left the room, wishing he could have stayed with me. But of course, he did not deserve the wrath of my mother. While walking closer to her, my clicking heels seemed to resemble the countdown of a bomb that would explode shortly.

"Take a seat, my darling," She demanded as soon as I was close to her. I swallowed, swiftly grabbing the skirts of my dress. I sat down on the white chair in front of her. She coughed. "Someone quite similar to the young Lady of the palace has been seen on the street market." A newspaper was placed on top of the table, facing me.

I swallowed one more time. "Must be someone who resembles me." I attempted to sound confident. "I am afraid that happened on Friday, and I take piano, courtesy and manner classes that day."

"Tell me, darling," She faked a smile. Her dark brown eyes, studying my position and expressions. "May I ask how you knew this happened on Friday as the article does not say something like that?"

"I-." Her stare became even more intimidating. "Guessed?" I squinted my eyes, perceiving that she would raise her voice to inhuman levels.

"Nor did you only skip your classes, you also lied and went outside on your own." Her tone was sharp. "Hideous things could have happened to you. Do you know what this could mean to your brother's throne?" Of course, this was about my dear brother. "The sister of the future King of Onism does not follow the rules of the palace. Then, what should they expect from their new King?"

"I did not do anything inappropriate, mother." I sighed, shifting my gaze to look at her directly. "I did not get in trouble, and as you can perceive, I am all right."

She rolled her eyes, which surprised me as she always claimed for that gesture not being refined. "And books," She pointed to one of the chairs, where I noticed all my favourite romance novels resting upon it. She had found them.

"May at least have some privacy in the confines of my bedroom?" I was mad, but raising my voice to her would get me in even more trouble. "Those," I referred to the pile of books that were my most precious property. "Those are mine."

"Not anymore," She got up, grabbing one of them and examining the title. "Romance novels? When will you understand that nothing like this happens in real life?"

I felt a little strength going through my body. "That book, in particular, describes the love story of the author! It is a romance that happened to her in real life. It is not fiction."

"But that woman was not a princess, was she?" I shook my head as she waited for my answer. "However, you are one. Even if you do not have anything to do with the future throne of Onism, your brother does, and you must behave like a princess." She walked closer to the fireplace. My eyes widened, and I gasped loudly. "You are a woman and a princess. The only thing you must worry about is making your future husband happy while following his rules, even if you do not love him." She opened the book, her skinny finger ripping some of the pages, and in the process, shattering my heart. "You will get married to someone you do not love, just to unite two countries." She let the book slip from her fingers. Falling to the fire, and burning as much as my eyes were burning due to the tears. "Stop filling your head with stories that will never happen to you. You are dismissed."

I got up from the chair, slightly glancing at the pile of books. I knew they would end up in the fireplace, slowly burning. I bowed my head. "I apologize, mother." She made a gesture with her hand, instructing me to leave the great hall.

My head was down as I walked to the door, wishing to exit the room and rant to Harold. "Wait," The voice of my mother interrupted my walk. "Get prepared as in two hours a man will come to paint a portrait of you. We will send the portraits to different future Kings of other countries that have shown interest in courting you."

"Yes, mother." I could not argue.

As I came out of the room, I noticed Harold's gaze fixed on me. I shook my head, letting him accompany me to my chambers. While walking through the long corridors, I glanced outside the windows. I reminded myself that I would never dance under the rain with someone while we laugh and kiss. I will never be caressed with love. I will only be touched with the purpose of bringing an heir to someone. An heir that would have to live the same dull life as me.

Going inside my bedroom, Harold bowed his head while he walked away. However, three ladies that worked in the palace entered my room, ready to assist me. I could not even take a bath on my own, nor could I dress by myself as the three of them did it for me.

"The painter will be here soon, ma'am," Rosetta informed, deciding to stay in the room as a lady should not be alone in a room with a man who is not her beloved husband. "He is a painter from town, said to have a gift."

"Is he quite known?" I asked to continue the conversation as I did not want to be rude. Nonetheless, the image of my books burning was the only thing in my mind.

"He is known in town for doing amazing portraits in exchange for food and a place to live." My curiosity peaked at the comment. "Royals are quite interested in getting their portraits done by him. Though, he had denied their offers." I looked at her with confusion. "He does not want to be related to any royalty member." I nodded my head, understanding why he did not want that.

There were two knocks on the door, indicating that the painter was here. I was quite surprised as my mother wanted the portrait to be painted in my private chambers. "Please, come inside."

When the door opened, a tall man came inside. He was probably around 5' 10". Wide shoulders that were covered by dark brown clothes. It seemed to be his best attire. Even though you could see the cheap fabric, and how he had tried to cover some holes and get rid of some stains. He had tried to gel his hair back. At first, I thought his hair was black until a streak of light fell on him, and I discerned it was a little lighter than that.

His light brown eyes fell on me, and studying them in-depth, I noticed that they resembled to be hazel. He bowed his head. "Uhm, it is a pleasure to meet you, Princess. I am here to-."

I offered him a smile. "Welcome to the palace," I bowed my head a little, which seemed to surprise him. "Please, do not call me Princess. It is fine to call me Lady." I gestured to one of the chairs in my room. "Please take a seat. It must have been a bumpy ride to the palace."

While sitting down, he nodded his head. There was a big black binder between his hands. Noticing my gaze on it, he quickly opened it, showing different canvas. "I can make different types of portraits. I thought I should bring some examples for the Pri-, Lady to choose the one she fancies the most." He stretched his arm, providing his drawings for me to look at them.

"May I ask for your name, sir?" My eyes focused on his drawings, understanding why everyone wanted to get their portrait done by the young man.

"My family name is O'Brien, while my name is Dylan, my Lady."

I nodded my head while still focused on his magnificent paintings. However, one in particular seemed to grab my full attention. It was the portrait of an elder, who appeared to be looking deep into me. He was skinny, and by his clothes, I could tell he was poor. He was sitting on a chair, and I almost gasped when I discerned that he had a missing leg. His expression was warm, a gorgeous smile decorating his face. Though, you could see that he had missing teeth.

"Did you find any equivalent style to what you desire?" His soft voice snapped me from my thoughts.

"May I ask?" I turned the portrait around, giving it back. His eyes examined the elder he had drawn. "Why is he smiling, but there are shadows around him?" I had noticed that the elder was smiling. However, black and grey adumbrations were around his figure. Some resembled horrible monsters. Especially a grey shadow that resembled a demon, resting upon his head.

He chuckled. "Those are the ones people in town ask the most." He glanced at me. "I draw their exterior as they want other people to see them. But then, around them, I draw what I can perceive or what I learnt about them." I furrowed my eyebrows. "Sadly, this man passed away a couple of weeks ago due to a cold." He licked his bottom lip. "He had offered me a home for a couple of days, and of course, he had proposed food in exchange for a portrait. Those days, I learnt many things while listening to his stories. I noticed that the man was attempting to look happy for his sick wife, whom he loved with his entire soul."

I fidgeted on my seat. "What happened, then?" I curiously asked, making him grin.

"He was not happy. He was afraid of losing the love of his life because death had knocked a couple of times on their door." He glanced at the painting. "Their children had married to people in higher positions, ignoring the elderly couple and not helping them with medicines. He was 87 years old, working in the town market. He was selling vegetables that he was cultivating by himself." He decided to continue as he saw that I was expectant of knowing more. "He never lost the smile for anyone, even if people did not treat him right. And of course, when arriving at his house, he would maintain the smile for his wife."

"Then," I tried to hide my teary eyes. "Those dark shadows..."

"Those are the monsters he tried to hide, but that I got to meet. The fear of losing his wife, the frightening feeling of wanting to end his own life, the fear of not having money to pay for his wife medicines, and so much more."

"And what happened to them?" Rosetta coughed, indicating me to fix my posture, and I quickly did, which made him furrow his eyebrows.

"As I said, one of his biggest fears was that they did not have enough money to pay for his wife's medicines." He peeped at the ground for mere seconds. "She died in her sleep. Her body could not hold the pain anymore, and she faded away."

"What about the old man?"

He nodded his head, his gaze shifting to the portrait. "He passed away in his sleep too. There was a smile in his face."

I blinked, affected by the grievous story of those who had to fight to survive. "I want one of those!" Both Rosetta and Dylan looked at me with surprised expressions decorating their faces. "I would like one of those portraits."

"My Lady, I'm sorry to intervene on matters that I should not. But I do not think the Queen will like such a portrait to be sent to those who are interested in courting you." She was right.

"She will not look at the portrait. Harold will be the one sending them." I affirmed, knowing that my mother would not dirty her hands for anything.

"It could get the young man in trouble, my Lady."

I glance at the man, who was looking at Rosetta until his eyes met mine. "Yes," I smiled, even though I was upset. "You are right. Then," I studied a portrait, a simple one. "I would like this one." Dylan nodded his head.

"It would take a couple of days to finish it. But I will be staying in the palace for the time being." He informed. "Is there any time of the day where you prefer to spend your time just standing in front of me?" He blushed a little. "Just for the portrait, of course."

"Tuesdays and Fridays I must spend receiving 'Lady classes'. The rest of the days and hours, I will be in here." I sighed, offering him another smile. "Did they give you directions for the room where you will stay?" Nodding his head, he showed me a piece of paper with some important directions to places of the palace that he could visit. "Your bedroom is at the end of this corridor. You are lucky as it is empty, except for me and Harold's room." Of course, he had met Harold already. "I must warn you not to leave your room after 11 pm as there are guards everywhere." I got up from my chair. "Rosetta," I pointed at her. "She will bring every meal to your room. Do not hesitate if you need to ask them something. There are a bathroom and a study in your chambers."

Before he could answer, the door of my chambers opened. A broad man stumbled in with decisive steps, and fury adorning his face. I gulped, stepping back before I could hold myself.

The man threw a newspaper at me, hitting my chest. Glancing at the floor, I witnessed the same newspaper my mother had been holding a couple of minutes ago. "Again?" His voice was sharp. "Did you escape again to buy those stupid books?" I shook my head. "Oh, yes, you did. Mother told me." His boots sounded like thunders as he walked closer. "I do not desire to hear any rumour of how my sister is not acting like a lady." My brother Evans glared at me. "If my future in the throne is affected by your stupid imagination and ambitions, I swear I will do whatever I must do for you to learn your lesson."

"I am s-."

"Do not you dare speak back to me!" He screamed. His gaze shifted to Dylan, who was standing too, eyes widened and what seemed anger decorating his face. "Are you the painter?" He nodded his head. "Try to make her attractive in the portrait. Hopefully, some rich soon-to-be King from another country will want to marry her." He peered at me. "Luckily, he will know when a woman needs a genuine beating to act like a lady or a wife." Those were his final words as he left the room. I finally could breathe.

"Uhm," My legs shook, and I attempted to hide it. "As I said before if you need anything, do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, my Lady." He got up from his chair, clutching his paintings. "Is it all right to start with the portrait tomorrow morning?" I nodded my head, wishing him goodnight as he left my bedroom.

"Rosetta," Her hands were behind her back, respectfully. "Tell Harold that I demanded not to be disturbed tonight. Not even for dinner." She nodded her head, bowing and leaving me on my own.

I sighed, wandering closer to a full-body mirror that decorated one of my walls. The moment I feared the most was getting closer. I would marry someone whom I do not love. I would marry someone whose eyes would not hold back from gawking at other women. And with those thoughts in mind, I went to sleep.

The following day, I decided to have breakfast and lunch in my chambers, not wanting to face my mother or my older brother. I had convinced Harold to stay outside my room, wanting to be on my own with Dylan. I thought that I would feel more comfortable if I didn't have someone constantly checking my posture or warning me of what should not say. Moreover, I also believed that a painter needed his privacy to reflect his art on a canvas.

I was stunned toward the bright day outside. Looking out of the window, I saw my little siblings running around the garden as some servants followed them. They were probably making their job even more complicated. Alexander and Victoria were quite the troublemakers. However, I was thrilled for them as they would not have to follow such strict indications, as to the ones I had to obey.

"Are those your siblings, my Lady?" Scared by the prompt presence, I turned around. Dylan was standing there, holding a big canvas and a briefcase, which I assumed held his painting materials. "I apologize if I alarmed you. Harold permitted me to come inside."

I nodded my head. "Yes, they are twins." I offered him a smile as he grabbed a chair, placing it in front of me. I discerned that my back was resting against the wall, and I quickly moved to stand straight. "Oh, please, no." He extended his arm. "Would it be okay for you to go back to that position? The light was caressing the right side of your face. There was a beautiful contrast." I swallowed, nodding my head while resting my back against the wall. I heard him chuckle. "Please, do not worry. It is okay for you to blink, breathe or swallow. It is also okay for you to do light movements."

"May I talk?"

"I am not great at holding conversations, but I will try my best, my Lady." He placed the blank canvas on the easel. His hands worked fast while taking out his painting material from the briefcase. "If it is not rude," He swallowed, probably questioning himself if it was okay to continue speaking. "I have noticed some books lying under the bed," I glance at my bed. Noticing that some books could be seen, which meant he was good at observing and that I did not hide my books correctly. "What books do you read?"

"Well," I gulped. "I read books about manners a lady should have in front of males and for the table. I study geography too as I must know the rest of countries for future alliances, and-."

"I apologize, my Lady." He wetted his brush. "Perhaps I formed the question wrongly. I wanted to know which books you enjoy."

My mouth opened as no one has ever asked me such a question. "You will think I am a typical young girl."

"Cannot think like that, my Lady." He mixed some colours. His painting brush, caressing the canvas delicately. "You are not a typical young girl. You are the Princess of Onism." Though those words shattered my heart, he was right. I would never be a 'normal' girl as my life was nothing like the one of an ordinary lady. "However," He continued. "When you paint someone, you get to comprehend them deeply. I believe I might discover that you are an ordinary human at heart. Something beautiful that would separate you from cold-hearted royalty." I was surprised by his words as people would not dare to talk of royalty like that.

I offered him a smile. "You might." He got distracted for a couple of seconds. His eyes navigated from the canvas to me, trying to retain my features and the folds of my clothes. "Romance." I was flustered. "I do truly enjoy romance."

"I presume something you will experience as soon as these portraits are sent."

I shook my head. "Something I presume I will never experience." His eyebrows furrowed once again. "Royalty men have the right to choose whom they will marry, even if they do not love them. Women will have to accept whomever their parents choose for her." My gaze shifted to the window for a couple of seconds. "It is my destiny."

He stopped painting for mere seconds, staring at me while slowly blinking. "Destiny can be changed." I shook my head. "It can," He nodded his head. "It might be scary or go against the rules. But destiny can be changed by the decisions you make. Only you are the sailor of the ship." He grinned. "That is something my father used to say."

"Used?"

"He passed away." He gritted his teeth. "He was a great painter too. Better than me." To my curious gaze, he decided to continue. "My mother left when I was a baby. She fell in love with a younger man, leaving my dad and me." He gulped. "Therefore, I would not dare to say that I have seen love as my mother left without looking back."

"H-Have you experience love, sir?"

"Please, call me Dylan, my Lady." There was a comfortable silence between us as he seemed to be concentrating on the portrait. "Not sure I did. Love is not what is shown in books. Nonetheless, I would like it to be like that."

"I cannot agree or disagree." I offered a sad smile, trying to hide my tears. "May we take a rest?"

He glanced at the clock hanging on my wall, nodding his head. "I apologize, time went by so fast." He cleaned and placed his paints inside his briefcase. "Good night, my Lady." I bowed back to him as he closed the door.

I waited for a couple of minutes, opening the door and seeing Rosetta waiting there. "Where is Harold?" I glance around, hoping to see the grey-haired man.

"He had to take care of some issues." She replied, looking nervous. "Do you need anything, my Lady?"

I quickly nodded my head. "I expect no dinner today, and I demand to be left alone." She furrowed her eyebrows, and before she could speak back, I stopped her. "I would like to take my nightly bath on my own, please." She nodded her head, walking away after wishing me a good night.

I closed the door of my chambers, quickly locking it as I rapidly walked into my bathroom, doing the same thing to the door. Walking closer to the bath, I turned on the faucet. I checked the temperature of the water until it was lukewarm.

I sighed as my hands went to my back, untying my dress. As the clothes fell to the ground in a surprisingly elegant manner, I appreciated not being forced to wear a corset. My legs shook as I placed one inside the water until I was sitting down.

I have read in books how a woman and a man would fall in love. A passion that they could not resist. An absolute passion that would make their hands wander through their bodies, wanting to feel each other as close as possible. I have read it so many times that I could lie to my head, making it think that I have experienced something like that.

I have read the way hands seem to burn on the skin, and how breathing becomes more arduous. And how after being pleasured, you need it over, and over again.

I sighed, feeling my nipples hardening, and I learnt they could do so even if the temperature was not cold. My left hand gripped the edge of the bathtub as the right hand rested on my chest. I decided it was time to move it, and closing my eyes, I left it to wander down while grazing my nipples.

When my fingers caressed my tummy, they seemed to become shy. Not used to the places they were descending. I have read books, but I have never experienced the feeling, which made me feel curious.

I tried to remember all the books. My fingers ended up placed on top of my bundle of nerves, and just the mere touch made me shiver from excitement. I slowly moved them in circles, adding more pressure, little by little. The temperature down there seemed to get warmer to the point where it burned. I could not avoid the need to move my fingers faster.

My left hand continued to grip the edge of the bathtub, but this time harder as my mouth opened and my vision became blurry. I felt this strange sensation. I felt like I was going to urinate inside the warm water, and even though I felt quite disgusted by the thought, I could not stop my fingers. They moved in circles, faster and adding much more pressure.

And it came. A rush of pleasure came over my body, and I could not hold back the moans escaping my mouth as I peeped down between my legs. My intimate parts turned red due to temperature and agitation. Then, I regarded the water near it, looking less transparent. So that was it. That is what a woman felt after pleasuring herself.

Curiosity invaded me even more, and I wanted to experience more further.

A couple of days had gone by, and the portrait was already looking amazingly good. I did not have any doubt of Dylan's talent as I have seen some of his works.

"Has anyone shown you around?" We had got a little closer as we spent many hours together for the portrait. He shook his head, taking off his dark green beret, and resting it on a nearer seat as he proceeded to mix some colours. "Would you like to see the gardens and the horses?"

His eyes widened. "Horses, my Lady?" I chuckled at his expression, nodding my head.

"Eight to be exact." His eyes widened even more. I remembered everything he had told me about himself, especially his love for horses. "We could take a rest. I feel dizzy from the smell of paint." He promptly nodded his head, halting and resting his brush on top of an antique plate stuffed with remains of paint.

Strolling through the gardens, I peered at him. He seemed content, having the chance to smell the fresh air mingled with the scent of the white roses that decorated our gardens. "White roses are your favourites." He had surprised me while retrieving such a simple, but a unique fact about me.

I nodded my head. "I prefer them over red roses. Those are overrated." He laughed, making my heart beat loudly. Dylan was an attractive man, and these past days I could not stop my body and my heart from reacting as soon as my gaze met his. "The stables are over there." I pointed to a couple of meters away from us. I extracted my arm as I felt something falling on it. "Oh, it seems like it   will start drizzling." We walked faster to the stables, almost running as the rain appeared to fall swiftly upon our clothes. "You will adore Arden. He is my hor-." I was interrupted as I saw two bodies stirring frantically against each other. Their moans, invading the stables. "Wh-." A hand covered my mouth while another dragged me off the stables. Dylan and I ran under the rain, getting as far as possible from the horses' house.

Both of us gawked at each other in astonishment. "Maybe my eyes deceived me. However, I believe that was Harold?" He seemed as shocked as me.

"They did not trick you." I gulped. "May I add that woman was my mother?"

His eyes widened even more. "T-The Queen?" I nodded my head. "I am so sorry, my Lady."

"I am not angered by the fact she was committing adultery! I know my father is no saint." I gritted my teeth. "I am mad by the fact she lives a miserable life. In which she had to marry a man she does not love, and she wants to impose the same duty on me!" My hands reached my hair, fingers clutching it. "It is not fair for her to desire the same dull and cruel life for me!" Dylan kept quiet, allowing me to rant. "Why must not I experience falling in love with someone? I crave to be touched by adoring hands, not dirty ones that will not care about my desires and will expect for an heir to be conceived." I sighed. "I ache to live that romance until the day I die." I let my posture fall, whining. "Why cannot I be kissed by someone truly interested in me? Why cannot I be touched by someone who desi-."

My speech was interrupted as Dylan's hands rested on my cheeks. His lips were tightly pressed against mine. I have read how a kiss was mostly controlled by the fight of tongues, aspiring to be the dominant one. But this was just a simplistic kiss.

"Oh my-." His eyes widened as my mouth fell open. "I apologize for my behaviour. I do not know what came over my mind for me to-." My hands were now covering his cheeks as I bought him closer. My lips were awkwardly pressed against his. He separated from me, blinking dumbfoundedly. "Close your eyes." I did. "Open your mouth a little, my Lady." His thumb drew my lower lip downwards. As he got closer, I felt his tongue stroking my bottom lip.

My hands were pushed against his chest as I gripped his white shirt between my fingers. One of his hands had to wander to my lower back as my legs shook. His tongue was now grinding against mine, and not knowing what to do, I mimicked his actions. My mouth instinctively melted against his.

"You will be the death of me, my Lady." He held me closer. His right hand, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Literally."

The following day, I walked to the great hall, confident enough not to knock on the door before stepping inside. My mother seemed shocked to be interrupted by my presence, as she gripped the teacup tighter.

Harold wandered behind me, fear written all over his features as he had never seen me disrespecting my mother in such a way.

I gestured for the cello man to leave the room, which he quickly did, not even daring to glance at my mother. "How dare you to come inside in such a-."

"I will not get married." I interrupted her, something I have never done before. I had been informed by my brother that there was a powerful candidate for me to marry. A 52-year-old man. "I will not marry someone I do not love, and even less a 52-year-old King just for our countries to be at peace."

"You have no say on it."

"Mother, do you want me to live the same life as you?" I ventured to ask. "Do you want me to marry a man who will sleep with every servant or woman that crosses his way while my future children will have to suffer the consequences too? A boy that ought to follow the rules of a King until he becomes a tyrant. And a girl who ought to have to act as demanded. Merely for the young male of the family to be even more respected?"

"As I sai-."

"Will I be like you then, mother?" My lower lip trembled. "Will I be cold-hearted towards my children, towards my daughter? Will I have to submit her to the same shameful life as me?" I did not let Harold intervene. "Will I have to close my eyes to true love and consume my infatuation with the person I truly love in some dirty stable?" Both of them were shocked by my words. "You are preparing and forcing me to the life you both have. I do not want to hide from the public eye and keep the person I cherish a secret."

"If this is about that paint-."

"He has nothing to do with this." I did not appreciate the way she spoke about Dylan. "I have openly expressed my discomfort about marrying someone I do not love since I recollect. I understand romance books do not happen in real life. But love does, and marrying someone for my brother's throne is not love." I sighed. "It is not fair for us, women, to be treated like this while men are approached like that!"

She surprisingly glanced at me for a couple of seconds before her sober expression appeared once again. "Every King marries the women they choose. We cannot decide. Every King has bastard children." I had to remind myself that Alexander and Victoria were the children of one of our servants. "Even your brother is going to have a bastard child." I furrowed my eyebrows as it was the first time hearing that news. "Rosetta." A disgusted expression decorated my face.

"Well," I breathed deeply.  "Destiny can be changed." I recited the same words Dylan had told me once. "It might be scary or go against the rules. But destiny can be changed by the decisions you make. Only you are the sailor of the ship." I glimpse at Harold. "I am tired of not being the sailor of my ship." I softened my voice. "Think about it, mother. I will do everything in my power to get out of here, even if it means dying in the process." For the first time in my life, my teary eyes were met with the glistening tears that invaded my mother's eyes. "I will be in my chambers. Please do not bother me at all."

When arriving to my bedroom, I did not expect to see Dylan waiting inside. I locked the door behind me as my eyes examined his entire body.

"Are you all right, my Lady?" He showed the briefcase he was squeezing between his fingers. "Rosetta told me to wait here for you. Since we could not continue with the portrait this morning, I assumed that perhaps, we could tonight."

"Let's escape together." My mouth seemed to move on its own. However, Dylan stared at me with complete confusion decorating his features.

"My Lady, I do not think I understand what you are trying to imply." He knew.

"I have told you before I do not plan on marrying someone whom I do not love." I walked to my bed, sitting down on the mattress. "It has been decided without letting me know that I will get married to the King of Hiraeth."

He glanced down at the floor for a couple of seconds to later shift his gaze on my direction. "Perhaps he is not only a noble because of his blood. Perhaps he is also noble at heart."

"It does not matter if he is noble at heart or not," I answered decisively. "He is a 52 year-old-man! And as I said before, someone I do not love!"

He sighed. "My Lady," Resting his briefcase on the floor, he pulled a chair to sit in front of me. Though, he maintained the distance. "If I am not wrong, you have never met this man before. You might end up fallin-."

"Do not dare to say that!" I got up from the bed, eyes flickering. "Please, do not be like the rest of those who live in this palace! The first time you came here, you told me I could change my fate." He swallowed, nodding his head. "That is what I am trying to do." My hands were squeezing the skirts of my dress. "Please."

"I cannot take you anywhere, my Lady. You are the Princess of Onism. Everyone in town knows the beauty you behold." He coughed while deeply looking into my eyes. "I do not know anyone that will keep the secret of you being in to-."

"You are not understanding me, Dylan." I tried to ignore the way his body shivered every time my tongue and lips worked together to create his name. "I know I told you that I have never experienced love." I bit my lower lip, taking a breath. "I only know what I have read in books." He nodded his head, waiting for me to continue. "But I understand my feelings. Even before the day we kissed under the rain, I was already attracted to you."

"Attraction is something that can be felt many-."

I stepped closer, making him glance up. "It was attraction, I admit." Both of my hands navigated towards my back. "But my heart beats madly, whenever you are near me, whenever I glance at you or when I think about you." He got up from his chair, slightly stepping back. "I am utterly sure that I am in love with a man who worries about me and my feelings. Someone who has been encouraging me and that has seen my fears."

"My Lady," He gulped. "I truly feel honoured to be inside your mind and heart. I will not lie as I do also feel the same towards you." When I moved closer, he prevented me. "But you are a Princess, and I am just a simple man who paints in exchange for food and a roof." He blinked fastly. "I cannot give you the life you might expect." He offered me a side-smile. "And of course, our relationship would not be approved by the King and Queen." His voice turned softer. "Neither by the soon-to-be King of Onism."

"I do not care!"

"But I do, my Lady." He breathed deeply. "I do not want you to live a life where people will insult and degrade you plainly because you married a penniless man, or because you did not obey the established rules of the members of the royalty."

"I already have that life, where I am discredited just because I am a woman." This time when I stepped closer, he did not back away. "I already have to follow settled rules for the sake of my brother." My hands were still behind my back, and I finally decided to let them untie. He did not notice yet. "But now I have found someone who makes me feel something I have never experienced before." I sighed. "What did you do to me, Dylan?" He opened his mouth. "My mind and heart are full of you, and they constantly demand my body to be filled by you too."

His neck and cheeks turned red as he seemed to have difficulties while swallowing his spit. His eyes shifted around the room, trying to decide what to do. "My Lady," He sighed in desperation. His hands travelling through his body while he clenched it and gritted his teeth. "I truly have been trying to hold back." His hands now grazed his face. "I have been trying to hide how in love I am with you as I am just someone who does not deserve you."

"You are the man who deserves me the most." The shoulders of my dress fell, displaying my bare skin. His eyes widened even more. "And you do not have to hold back anymore." Finally, the cloth fell onto the ground. "I have read so many things, but I have never thought of experiencing them." I felt embarrassed by revealing such a matter. "I could not hold my hands from exploring my body for the first time as your image was in my mind."

"You did?" I nodded my head. His eyes had never left mine, not even to peer at my underwear. A rush of confidence seemed to hasten through him as he walked to the door, securing it. "Show me." My expression must have confused him. "Show me how you did it."

It was my turn to gulp as I got on my mattress, lying down on my back. I was slightly sitting thanks to the pillow, which granted me to discern Dylan as he shuffled closer to the end of the bed.

My bralette was already off, but his eyes still fixed on mine. "You can look." As soon as those words came out of my mouth, his eyes glanced down at my chest. It seemed like he had complications breathing.

My hands gently travelled down, gripping the sides of my underwear and slowly bringing them down my legs. The chilly air was a contrast of temperature to my entire body. I shifted my legs to completely discard my panties, which ended up someplace on the ground.

I permitted my fingers to touch the bundle of nerves, suffering a chill through my body that reminded me of that time in the bathtub, or the following times where I could not restrain my needs. Rubbing on circles, my other hand went to my mouth, biting on it not to make any sound.

"That is how you did it?" I nodded my head. "Until you exploded?" Again, I acknowledged with my head. "My Lady. Has any man touch you in such a way?" Shaking my head, he offered me a smile. "May I be the first one to do so?" I nodded my head, which he did not seem to like. "Please, use your words."

"I do," I did not hesitate. "I do want to be touched by you, Dylan."

"I might die right now, my Lady." He wandered closer. His hands slowly discarded his dark blue beret. Then, his fingers rapidly unbuttoned his white shirt, which had some dark little stains due to his paintings. His body was fit, enough to make a woman drool. I must say, he seemed broader than what I have imagined. "Have you ever introduced your fingers inside?"

I shook my head.

I hear the sound of his shoes falling to the ground as he kneeled on the end of the bed. His right hand moved my left hand from my clit, leading it to his hair. "Hold on tight, my Lady." Not sure of his next actions, I shivered as his breath hit my heated core. His tongue peeked out from his mouth, gently grazing my centre.

I gripped his soft hair between my fingers, making his gaze shift to look deep into my eyes. His tongue lapped, adding pressure on my clit. I whined as his tender tongue left my core to slid down and up a couple of times, extending my wetness all over my intimate part.

I was utterly surprised when the tip of his tongue ended up inside me, and he seemed to noticed as he grounded it against my walls. His right hand slowly left my thigh, where his grip had been tough. "I will be gentle." His whispers were almost unnoticeable as my moans were louder, feeling one of his warm fingers getting coated by my juices as he introduced it, inside my vagina. "Does it feel good?" Without waiting for an answer, he started thrusting it. His lapping tongue and his thrusting finger, producing a drooling combination.

"Oh my god," The candles that were lit, and resting on the table next to my bed seemed to flatter by a scene hotter than their flames. "Faster, please." I must not lie. Introducing his second finger on me had provided a slight pain. But seconds later, it had been replaced by an unbelievable pleasure. "Please do not make me beg."

"I would like to see you beg, my Lady." His mouth had left my clit, chin dripping with my fluids. "I would love to see you beg under the light of the candles while no one else knows that you are getting the love and passion you deserve." His fingers made a wet sound when they left my insides. I could not help but whine as he got farther from my body but became expectant when his fingers played with his belt.

As soon as he slid his pants down his legs, I could not help but moan again. There was a bulge between his legs, and I could not help but get flustered thinking about having him inside me. However, I was quite worried about his size as he already seemed thick through his pants.

I remembered a scene from a book where this girl had her first experience with her childhood friend. They had become lovers and decided to consume their love on top of the counter of the protagonist's kitchen. Her description of the scene was incredibly detailed. And even though my body had become more heated while reading it, I could not help but be worried when she described the experience as feeling as if she was getting 'ripped', which was quite vulgar but exciting in an unusual way.

I had been distracted by my thoughts, as to when I realized my rounds, Dylan's member was finally free. It stood tall and thick against his stomach. He could not help but contain his grin as I gasped.

"I never-."

"I know, my Lady." His hands grabbed my ankles, calmly making their way to my thighs, which he squeezed while separating my legs even more. "I am utterly happy to be the first and only man to make love to you." Uh? "I will take care of you for the rest of my life." His eyes looked deep into mine, asking for permission for his next movements and actions. Of course, I nodded.

He grabbed his shaft, his hand circling it while he thrust into his clenched fist a couple of times. He left if free, spitting on his hand to later grab his member again, lubricating it.

"I am a little scared," I confessed, shifting my gaze to his face. "You are so thick and long. H-How is that supposed to fit inside-."

"We can stop if you want, my Lady." One of his thumbs caressed one of my thighs. "There is no rush and enough time to do this whenever you feel ready."

"I do want to do it! I am just a little scared." I gulped, glancing down at his member. "Could you maybe go slowly?"

He nodded his head, getting closer and placing a peck on my lips. "Whatever you wish for, my Lady." Asking for permission again, he waited until it was granted, for the tip of his member to graze the lips of my vagina. "Here I go." He started adding pressure. Until the entire tip was inside, making me gasp. "Sh, breathe." His right hand went to my tummy, caressing it. "We can go slower."

I nodded my head as I took deep breaths, ignoring the tears that were falling from the corner of my eyes. A couple of minutes went by when I decided that the pain had become a pleasure. I shifted my hips toward Dylan. I was right as there was only pleasure. "Dylan, please," I whined. "Please move."

His entire member was inside me, and Dylan's thrusts had become steady and swift. His mouth was travelling from my jaw to my lips, sometimes stopping to ask for my well-being.

One of his hands left my hips, going between our bodies as he started circling my clit, adding more pleasure. "Oh my gosh," I raised my voice, not being able to hold back the incredible feeling. "Lord, please go faster." I circled my legs around his hips, bringing him closer if it was possible. His member, hitting places that it could not reach before. Wails of satisfaction came out of my mouth. "Please, fuck me harder."

He seemed quite shocked by my choice of words as his eyes widened. But he had seemed to enjoy them too, as his thrusts became even faster and sloppier. "I will not last long." He groaned, not afraid of expressing his pleasure while his lips grazed my ear. "I have been dreaming of this for so long." His moans made my entire body shiver. His right hand, circling my clit even faster. "Please, my Lady. Tell me you are close. Please."

"I am!" I drowned my screams while biting his shoulder. "I am so close." His left hand travelled to my left nipple, toying with it. The different stimulations, getting me dizzy while my vision became blurry. And I came undone under Dylan's body.

Reading was nothing like experiencing it.

My breath was laborious. Dylan stayed inside, thrusting a couple of times more until he quickly came out, thrusting in his clenched fist. He was going to finish soon. His eyes, questioning where to explode. My hands went to my breasts, holding them together.

Dylan's eyes widened as he understood what I was implying. He moved, his hips getting closer as his dick ended up being embraced by my breasts. I held them in place while he thrust, moaning at the contact. His tip, hitting my chin and lower lip. He did not last much longer, exploding and cumming all over my chin and lower lip.

He gasped, our bodies full of sweat. "I made a mess. I am so sorry, my L-." My tongue peeked out of my mouth, licking some of the cum that was resting on my lower lip. "I-. Oh, gosh." His lips settled up against mine. His tongue, parting my lips so his tongue could slowly dance against mine. "Did it feel good?"

"It felt amazing." I was still trying to breathe at a regular pace.

He kissed my forehead, leaving the bed and wandering to the bathroom. His member was still lightly hard. But he quickly gave me the view of his butt.

When he came back, he was gripping a towel. Sitting on the side of the bed, he slowly cleaned his release from my chin and chest. Then, folding it, he cleaned between my legs. He was cautious, trying not to hurt me as my entire body was sensitive. Next, he discarded the towel.

His body fell on the bed next to mine. We both gazed into each other's eyes with foolish smiles decorating our faces. "I do not want to leave. But night curfew will be soon."

"I do not care." I wrapped my sore body against him, breathing in. "Stay here. Nobody will know. You can leave early in the morning." I did not notice I was pouting until his lips pecked mine. Then, the rest of the night was a cuddling blur as exhaustion took over our bodies.

Another couple of days had gone by, and it was nearly impossible to keep our hands for ourselves. Dylan had been sleeping in my chambers, which was difficult to hide. I had been ignoring my mother and Harold as much as possible. And thankfully, my brother was away in a political meeting with my father. We had also continued the portrait sessions, which sometimes ended with our bodies full of paint as we could not hold back for holding each other.

I must confess that there had been sexual escapes around the palace, which was a surprise, as we did not get caught yet. Momentarily, Dylan's boxers were around his ankles like his pants as I was grabbing the skirts of my dress.

My face and chest were pressed against the wall of a tiny room while he thrust in me from behind. "Ah, we will get caught." He whispered but did not stop his movements. "You are going to be the death of me, my Lady."

We had been walking around the castle until I could not hold back myself anymore. I took Dylan's hand, going inside a tiny room that, it is used, for cleaning materials. Therefore, we were fucking as fast as we could, aiming for a release. "Please, go deeper!"

"I believe I am as immersed as I can, my Lady." The sound of our skin slapping against each other turned both of us on even more.

We both were close to our release. But we were rudely interrupted by the door of the room opening, showing Rosetta and Harold, who stared at us with surprise written all over their faces.

Dylan quickly came out of me, pulling his boxers and pants up while I let the skirts of my dress fall.

"Harold," I started. "Please, do not say anything." My eyes begged. "Could you please give us five minutes and wait in my chambers?" Without saying anything, they closed the door. "Oh my god."

"It is okay, my Lady." Fear was visible in his face and voice.

I was baffled as when entering my chambers, my mother was there, next to Harold. He ignored my gaze, staring deep into Dylan's eyes.

"Mother-."

"I told you!" She did not hesitate to raise her voice. "I know you did not choose to be a princess, but this is what we have to deal with." I could not protest. "I am not trying to make you miserable. I was trying to avoid a situation like this where this young man," Surprisingly, she did not glare at the young man next to me, who was squeezing my hand. "And you will be in danger!" She sighed. "Imagine if it was your father or brother finding you two! They arrived early this morning!" I did not know about their arrival. "He would have killed him and make you watch." I gasped, getting teary. "I did not want you guys to end as I did."

"What?" I asked while being overwhelmed by confusion.

"Your mother," Harold decided to spoke as my mother had to seat on the end of my bed, trying to calm herself. "She fell in love with a servant of this palace, way before you were born." Dylan and I were pretty interested in the story. "You do not choose who you love, my Lady." He shifted his gaze between the two of us. "However, keeping such a secret was complicated. And eventually, someone found out." His hand rested on my mother's back. "Unfortunately, the one that discovered them passionately kissing in the gardens was your father." I gulped while swaying closer to Dylan, searching for his warmth. "He executed him right there, in front of your mother."

"Those white roses used to be red." My mother's voice shook while she referred to those planted in our garden. "It was so repulsive to see that his blood mattered nothing when for me mattered the world. He was my world." She offered us a sad smile. "No one mourned for his loss except me. His body was taken away by other servants in uncaring behaviour. His blood could not be seen, because it had splattered on the flowers that had the same tone." She wept, trying to breathe and calm herself to continue. "It was as if he had never existed. I thought I had gone crazy, and I had imagined the love and the man that I desired to have."

"Mother," My eyes were teary. "I am so sorry that happened to you, and now, I understand you tried to protect me." I glimpsed at Harold for a couple of seconds. "But this is just throwing me into a deeper hole. I will end up in a similar situation to yours, and my children will be doomed, to the same cruel fate." I was desperate. "Mother, destiny can be changed." Dylan was looking at me, a tiny smile on his face while he rubbed one of my freezing hands.

"I have seen you grow up," Harold intervened. "I have learnt every one of your moves, understanding when you wanted to cry or laugh." He grinned, crossing his arms. "Deep inside, I knew one day you would want to fight from the established and dull life you are supposed to live."

"He spoke to me." My mother continued. "Harold opened my eyes, and he taught me to perceive that you were falling in love with this young man." She bowed at Dylan, and he returned the same gesture. "And I perceived that this young man was falling in love with you too."

"Your father and brother lied of their whereabouts." Harold stepped closer. "They bought with them a visitor."

My mother shifted closer to us. "It is the King of Hiraeth." She gulped. "The 52 year-old-man that they expect to marry you with."

"No," I shook my head. "Please, mother." I could not stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. "Please, mother. Do not let them do that. Please. Please." Before I could fall to my knees, my mother held her hand up, offering me a brown bag.

"It is yours now." My mother replied, sliding the bag into my hands. "This will help both of you." Money, there was a lot of gold inside the bag. Dylan was looking inside the container with wide eyes as I did. "If I had stolen money from your father, he would have noticed. Therefore, I bargained my jewellery." Her hand unconsciously went to her neck, and I noticed her diamond necklace missing.

"Here," Harold extended his arm, offering us a piece of paper. Dylan clutched it. It was a map. "That black circle is your shared property. It is a near kingdom, not too far from here but enough for you two to be safe and not be recognized, as the Princess of Onism."

"What?" My mouth was agape.

"It is Elysian. It is a small town full of life, and it is secure." Harold explained with a smile. "It is your new home. The money will help you guys for a couple of years, but of course, my Lady, you will have to get used to a life without servants and luxuries. However, I do not have any doubt that you will be able to adapt to such a life."

"Then," I glanced at my mother. "You are helping me escape?"

"I am helping both of you leave." She cried. "I am helping you get out of the life you did not choose and the one you do not desire." I turned around to stare at Dylan, who had tears running down his cheeks while smiling at me. He shyly pecked my forehead. He wiped his tears while bowing again, staying in that position for a couple of seconds. "No, no, please stand up." He did. "We are family now. Please take care of my little girl."

"I will, your highness." His words sounded so confident that it made my heart beat violently.

"W-What about you two?" I glanced between them. "Are you coming with us?" I was expectant to hear their answer.

My mother shook her head. "We did change our destiny." She referred to the present situation. "Do not worry about us."

"But-."

"My Lady," Harold took me into his arms, embracing me. "Escaping is more complex for us. But do not worry, because we will end up getting away from here. One day, we will." He smiled at me. "For now, Arden is prepared to take you both far from Onism tonight."

I nodded my head. "Take care of my mother, and thank you for being like a father to me." After squeezing him, I quickly hugged my mother. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Before they left my room, my mum turned around. "Dylan is your name, right?" He nodded his head. "I viewed the portrait. It looks marvellous. Take it with you." He was perplexed. "The portrait was for the man that will marry her. That man is you, so that portrait belongs to you."

"I bought gifts!" I overheard two squeals, rolling my eyes with a foolish smile, adorning my features. Two tiny figures ran to the owner of the voice. "Perhaps you both only love me when I bring presents."

"Perhaps they do." I walked closer to the man, whose beautiful smile was aimed, at me. My right hand gripped his arm, a signal for him to lower his head so I could peck his lips. "Welcome home. I made your favourite dish." My lips had trapped his bottom one between mines for a couple of seconds, making him whine lowly.

He seemed to be dumbfounded while pecking my lips a couple of times until our children interrupted the moment with their excitement to know what their father had brought them. "Well," He chuckled. "I bought my little princess this!" He took a stuffed animal from his coffee-coloured bag. Charlotte squealed and giggled while running around the room with her new plaything. "And I bought my not-so-little prince," He remembered how our little boy did not want to be named as a child anymore. "This." He showed him a new brand book, which cover was of a dark blue with golden touches.

Thomas could not help but grin. "This book was printed a couple of days ago! Thank you so much, father!" He tightly hugged his dad. "Perhaps I could bring it with me to the Addington's home?" He could not help but jump around due to his excitement. "I believe Newt will love it too!"

Dylan nodded his head. "Take care fo your sister, please."

The Addington's were a young family of five that lived next door. We were constantly inviting each other over to our homes, wanting the kids to play together. We, the adults, were also mates. A couple of times, we babysit each other's kids to have privacy with our respective partners.

As soon as the kids were out of the door, Dylan's briefcase had fallen to the ground. He had been away for an entire week due to a commission of a portrait where he would earn a lot of money.

His hands were caressing my entire body as we both tried to make our way to our shared chamber, in hopes of continuing the passion there. "I have missed you so much, my Princess."

My fingers moved quickly, trying to untie the dress I was wearing. My hands were sweaty, and Dylan must have noticed as he ended up unlacing my attire. "I am not a Princess anymore."

He swallowed, eyes focused on my breasts as I was not wearing a bralette. Both of his warm hands slid up, cupping my bosom. His fingers grazed my nipples while his entire hands squeezed the rest. "You are right." His gaze shifted to my lips. "You are the queen of my heart now, my Lady." That name had stayed since the very beginning, and every time it came rolling gently out of his lips, my undergarments got drenched.

"I will explode right here, Dylan." I moaned as my hands were busy sliding down his pants while he worked on his jacket and shirt. "I have missed having you around. And being around you."

He groaned, slipping one of his hands behind my back as he squeezed my buttocks. I whined when he pinched it. "You seem to be so desperate for me."

"That smirk," I grinned while kissing his bottom lip. "Perhaps you are as desperate as me." I glanced down as I spotted his hard bulge against my front.

"I am not as needy as you are, my Lady." The last word was said sensually, making my legs shake.

"I am sure you are as needy as me, Sir." It was that word for him. I could feel the temperature of his body rising.

"What does my queen require from such a humble servant?" He acted while sprawling my body down on the bed. His hands, gripping the sides of my panties, bringing the down and discarding them. "Maybe she needs help down here?" One of his fingers ran up and down, collecting my fluids. He did not hesitate to bring that finger into his mouth, savouring it. "My Lady, perhaps I should confess that you taste like Heaven, itself."

His face leaned closer to my core, but I immediately stopped him. He glimpsed at me, confused. "I want to be the one giving you as much pleasure as possible." Sitting down on the bed, my hands pushed against his chest until he was the one lying on his back.

I questioned myself when he had taken his boxers off as his member sprang free, hitting his tummy. Pre-cum was decorating his pink tip while sometimes, you could see it palpitating as the veins were tightening.

My right hand started working immediately, grabbing his shaft while going up and down. I softly squeezed it as his arm rested on top of his forehead, blissfully. My thumb stayed on the tip, playing with the tiny drops of pre-cum.

"Gosh, are you an angel?" His words wavered as my left hand cupped his balls, lightly tugging on them. "My Lady, I need your mouth, please." I attended his demands, my left hand still playing with his balls.

However, my mouth was also sucking on the lowest part of his member. Licking my way up, my mouth embraced the tip of his dick. His hands went through my hair, settling on grasping it forcefully and guiding me down until his entire thick member was inside my mouth.

His moans got louder as his hips could not hold back, shifting upwards, choking me as his tip scraped the back of my throat. "My Lady." Glancing upwards, I could see the sweat falling down his forehead. His entire body was sweating, especially the part of his chest with a spot of hair.

I sucked harder, preventing my teeth from grazing his delicate member. "May I come inside your mouth, my Lady?" Humming against his dick, he seemed to understand my permission. A couple of hard thrusts that chocked me and he was cumming down my throat, spilling a big load. His breath was laborious as his hands caressed my hair back. "Please, ride me."

He whined when his member lost the warmth of my mouth as I shifted my body to position myself on top of him. My left hand was resting against his chest. My other hand, grabbing his still firm member. "May I?" He nodded his head. As soon as he was filling me up, both of us became a moaning mess. "Ah, I felt so empty without your dick inside me."

His hands instantly clutched my hips as he encouraged me to bounce on top him. "You look so ravishing while you bounce on my dick." I moaned, loving his dirty talk. "I could do this every day. I love how your breasts bounce while you are getting stretched by my dick." He gulped. "They have got even bigger after you had our beautiful children." His right hand slapped my ass. "Listen," I ceased my moans as I heard the slapping sounds of our skins. "You are so wet for me, my Lady. Your pussy demands to hold my dick."

Both of my hands were now resting against his chest. "I am going to explode." The hand that was on my ass moved to the front, flicking my clitoris. "You fill me up so good, Sir!"

"I will fill you even more soon." He groaned, sitting down so he could move me closer to my body. Our mouths, touching in an open kiss. "I am going to release my entire load inside you. I am going to impregnate you, my Lady." I moaned. "You want that, right?" His thrusts became sloppier and harder. "You want to get filled and carry another gorgeous baby." I nodded my head. "You are as irresistible while pregnant. The way you cannot keep your hands to yourself. The way your bosom gets even bigger."

"Please, fill me."

No more words needed to be said as our teeth clattered against each other, riding our highs together. My vision got blurry, and my moans louder as I felt all of his huge load filling me up. "Oh, fuck me, my Lady. You take my load so good." The rest was full of kisses and warm under the sheets. His member had softened inside me.

On one of the walls of our chambers, there was a portrait of my younger self. She resembled grave and upset. Her composture seemed forced, but around her body, there were flames. Sparks that represented the passion she badly wanted to share. The adventures she wanted to live. There was a yellow light, which seemed, to be connected to her heart.

Dylan had described a young lady who aspired to live a passionate life. A young woman whose heart and mind were full of hope.

There was a lovely detail on the portrait. On the wall behind the young girl, there was a mirror, where you could perceive a young Dylan, examining the woman before him with a peculiar shining light on his eyes. The identical light young Y/N had while looking at Dylan O'Brien, the humble painter who shared the 'fictional' love she always wanted to experience.The love they both found and fancied.

Yes, destiny could be changed.

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Those who asked to be tagged. Thank you for showing interest: 

@og-baby-ob14​ - @sweetest-serpent01​ - @tovvaa​ - @jazminebrightxx​ - @sonnydoesrandomshit​ - @badgyal-barbie​ - @trustfundparker​ - @blueraindrops​ 

[drosera-nepenthes]

A Royal Recluse: Princess Clotilde

Just at the time when, in consequence of the weakness and folly of the republican government, certain French Monarchists are looking to Prince Victor Napoleon Bonaparte as the possible savior of their country, the Prince, whose marriage to Princess Clementina of Belgium recently brought him before the public, was watching by the deathbed of his mother, Princess Clotilde of Savoy, who breathed her last on June 25. The story of this royal lady is a pathetic one and, apart from the interest that is attached to her as the mother of the imperial candidate to the French throne, her personal character was one of rare beauty.

She was the daughter of Victor Emmanuel II, first King of Italy, and of Adelaide, Archduchess of Austria, and was born at Turin on March 2, 1843. Her mother died in 1855, leaving five young children, of whom Clotilde was the eldest, the others being Humbert, the future King of Italy ; Amadeo, Duke of Aosta ; Maria Pia, the queen dowager of Portugal, and a son who died in childhood. The Queen of Sardinia (Victor Emmanuel had not at that time laid violent hands on the independent states of Italy) was an exemplary wife and mother, and her orphan daughters were carefully educated by the attendants whom she had placed about them.

Never was a princess more ruthlessly sacrificed to political interests than the eldest princess of Savoy. When a mere child of sixteen, Clotilde was chosen to cement the alliance between France and Sardinia, and was promised in marriage to Prince Napoleon Jerome, nephew of Napoleon I and first cousin Napoleon III, the reigning sovereign. Princess Clotilde was connected with the Bourbons, her very name was French and was given to her in memory of the French Princess Marie Clotilde, sister of Louis XVI, who married a King of Sardinia ; but allied as she was by close ties of blood to the Bourbons, she had nothing in common with the Bonapartes who occupied their place, and a more ill-assorted couple never existed than the middle-aged, violent, cynical and free-thinking Prince Napoleon and the daughter of the most ancient royal house in Europe, who traditions and surroundings were strictly conservative and religious. Their marriage took place at Turin on January 30, 1859. The bride was sixteen and the bridegroom thirty-seven. He had a handsome presence and was intelligent and well informed and well informed, but neither his private life nor his freely expressed opinions on public matters made him estimable or lovable. His attitude with regard to his cousin, the Emperor, was one of constant opposition, and it was reported that his anti-religious views led him to take part in the banquets organized by a group of free thinkers on Good Friday. Under the Second Empire the French Government was officially Catholic, and Prince Napoleon's hostile and aggressive attitude was pronounced ill-bred, if not worse. Throughout France he was distinctly unpopular.

The young bride, married to this unsympathetic nephew of the great Napoleon, probably had few illusions as to the sum of happiness that awaited her in her new home. There are still some old men living who remember her when she took possession of the Palais Royal, Prince Napoleon's Paris house.: a slight, pale girl, with fluffy, fair hair and bright eyes, not pretty but singularly attractive. Her high breeding stood her in good stead in the somewhat parvenu atmosphere of the Court of the Tuileries, she had a royal dignity all her own, and her simplicity of heart was combined with much quiet firmness. From the first she ordered her life according to the principles in which she had been educated. An early riser, even at the Palais Royal, she gave much time to prayer and to works of mercy, but her piety, says M. Emile Ollivier, a former minister of Napoleon II, “never made her tiresome or intolerant. She believed that the most useful sermon was the practice of the virtues that are taught by faith.” Her husband, although so widely apart from her, acknowledged her goodness. “Clotilde is a saint,” he sometimes said ; “if there were many like her, I believe I myself should end by becoming devout.”

When the disastrous war of 1870 brought terror and shame upon France, the Princess was in Paris. During that fatal month of August every day came news of a fresh defeat, and the revolution that was to break out on the 4th of September was already distinctly perceptible; the infuriated and terrified people made the imperial government responsible for the reverses that so keenly wounded their patriotic pride.

Princess Clotilde was alone at the Palais Royal ; her husband was with the army, her three children she sent to Switzerland, where Prince Napoleon had an estate; but she steadily refused to leave Paris while the Empress Eugénie remained at the Tuileries. There was not much personal sympathy between the two; it was Princess Clotilde's feeling of loyalty that chained her to the post danger as long as there was a semblance of imperial government in Paris.

In vain her husband wrote imperious messages bidding her join her children at Prangins; in vain her father sent the Marquis Spinela to Paris to escort her ; the Princess so yielding in everyday life, was unbending in her decision to remain at the palace as long as the lonely woman at the Tuileries was the nominal ruler of France ; she had shared the splendors of the Empire, and it went against her noble spirit to desert the Empress.

The letter this young woman, a stranger in a strange land, wrote to her father on August 25, 1870, has been quoted by the French papers. It is a right royal letter worthy of the daughter of kings:

“I am a French woman,” she says. “I cannot desert my country. When I married although so young, I knew what I was doing and if I did it, it was because I wished to do so. The interest of my husband, of my children and of my country require that I should remain here. The honor of my name, your honor, my dear father, and that of my country also demand it. Nothing will make me fail in what I believe to be my duty to the end... You know that the house of Savoy and fear have never gone together, and you would not wish that they should meet in my person.”

At last, when the Empress was driven from her palace by the mob, the Princess considered that she was free to follow, but how different was the departure of the two women!

The brilliant and beautiful sovereign, closely disguised, was only able to leave Paris owing to the assistance of her American dentist, Dr. Evans; her young cousin made her exit as a princess. In an open carriage, accompanied by her lady in waiting, she drove to the railway station in broad daylight. The excited people, awed by her courage and dignity, saluted her as she passed out of their sight, a truly royal and saintly figure.

Princess Clotilde lived for some years at Prangins, near Geneva, where she devoted herself to the education of her three children; then, when her husband was allowed to return to France, the difficulties of her married life were such that by mutual consent she retired to the Castle of Moncalieri, near Turin, with her young daughter. Here, in the home of her childhood, she spent nearly forty years. They were years of peace, largely marked by sorrow. Four times only did she emerge from her retreat, once in January 1878, when she heard that her father lay dangerously ill in Rome. She had suffered cruelly from the spoliation of the Holy See by the house of Savoy, and the remembrance of her father's part in the matter prompted her to fly to his bedside. On the way she heard that he was dead, and she sadly returned to Moncalieri. In 1891, she again started for Rome, this time to visit her husband, who lay dying at the Hotel de Russie. Those who saw the Princess during those solemn days can never forget her sweetness, earnestness and gentle patience. What passed between her and Prince Napoleon none can tell, but Cardinal Mermillod a frequent visitor to the sick room, professed himself satisfied, after two private interviews, that the dying man was fully conscious. The Princess, whose married life, it is well known, had been a via crucis, remained near him to the end, praying incessantly for the soul that probably owes its salvation to her intercession. Again in 1903 and in 1904, she left Moncalieri to visit her sister-in-law, Princess Mathilde Bonaparte, whose deathbed she attended.

Her life, as it neared the end became more and more that of a recluse. Her sons lived their own lives in Brussels and in Russia; her daughter, having married a Prince of Savoy, was near to her, and their visits, occasionally brought an element of joy into the silent castle. Last autumn, Prince Victor Napoleon's marriage to the Princess Clémentine of Belgium gladdened his mother's heart. It was celebrated at Moncalieri, and to those who attended the ceremony the most striking figure present was the slight, gray-haired lady, plainly dressed in black, whose eyes had the far-away look of those who are nearing the eternal shore. Even in the days of her youth Princess Clotilde's spirituality struck M. Emile Ollivier. It gave her, he says a singular insight into all questions that touch on right and wrong; she possessed the gifts of the true mystics, “who judge human affairs with a clearness and rectitude born of detachment.” Her chief link with the outer world during the long, silent years of old age was her love for the poor, to whom she gave royally, with a loving kindness that made her gifts more precious. Their grief was great when they heard of her death, and their prayers will follow her remains to the royal mausoleum of La Superga, near Turin, where the daughter of the Sardinian Kings sleeps with her ancestors.

America. United States, America Press, 1911.

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 3

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed​

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn's attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain's father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is going to be a long, slow burn fic (hopefully)

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Four: Playing House

“Who could be calling this time of night?” Vassa rose from her chair, her skirts flowing to the floor.

“Trouble?” Lucien shrugged.

“We can only hope,” Jurian grinned, leaping to his feet with newfound excitement.

“I sent the maids to bed,” Vassa moved to peer out a window where she should’ve had a clear view of the porch, but nothing could be seen through the black rain, “Should I wake the house for guests?”

“We don’t know if it’s a guest, might be something more fun,” Jurian was still grinning wolfishly, now bouncing from one foot to the other, “So…who’s going to open the door?” Both man and male turned to look at Vassa who only scoffed in response.

“Ugh - why me?”

“You’re the queen, princess.”

“How are you going to call me queen and princess in the same sentence?”

“It’s an oxymoron.”

“Oxymoronic more like.”

“Oh Mother, I’m surrounded by children,” Lucien groaned, running his hands over his face.

“The only children in this room are you two. Afraid of answering a door for Cauldrons-sake,” she huffed as she waltzed into the foyer, embellished with russet wood and crimson carpets, Lucien and Jurian on her tail like puppies.

She’d just reached the towering oak doors when something whipped her around, pulling her by her outstretched hand. Turning, Vassa came face to face with Lucien whose eyes were stony with determination.

“I think not,” was all he said, his other hand resting on his belt where his silver sword of Autumn was permanently strapped.

“Why?” Vassa huffed, feeling her heartbeat quicken in response to the intensity of Lucien’s gaze.

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to let a queen open the door to an unexpected guest in the middle of the night, in the middle of a storm, whilst unarmed and being tracked by a Death God.”

Vassa’s wide eyes just drank him in, before looking down at where his hand was wrapped around her wrist. He dropped it instantaneously, as though she had burned him.

“So he does have balls,” Jurian cooed from behind them, but to Vassa, he was long forgotten.

“Fine,” Vassa took a step towards the Fae Lord, allowing her voice to drop a few octaves as she refused to break eye contact, “Go ahead.” She just about purred before turning and walking back to wait at the base of the stairs, missing the confused look on Lucien’s face as he turned to the door.

He should’ve been able to smell whoever was on the otherwise of the door, as well as the Belladonna’s which sat in clay pots on either side of the entrance. But all Lucien was getting, was the smothering dew of the rain, wet overturned earth and the neither-here-nor-there scent of furious winds. He could however hear a soft murmur of voices, from the pitch, female, before a second, shy knock beat on the wooden door. Two heartbeats, and that was it, all the information he could glean given the storm and inches of brick which separated him and his ‘guests’.

With his hand on the door’s iron handle, Lucien’s body felt alive and electric, like a drawn bow ready to fire. There was something in the air, a moment of calm before the storm. Without dwelling on it any longer, Lucien rose to is full height, one of his greatest assets even against other Fae, and yanked the door open.

“Hello?” A small, quiet voice. A voice that haunted his dreams.

***

Touch her. No, don’t touch her. She doesn’t want to be touched. But it is normal for people to touch, people touch all the time, a hand on a shoulder is no affront. Just touch her. But you have no reason to touch her.

That’s what Elain smelt like, or something similar, he supposed.

At first all Lucien could see of Elain was her big eyes, peeking over her purple cloak like beacons. But he’d recognise those eyes everywhere, sometimes it felt as though they were in his room, watching him. She seemed to still as he caught her eye, him standing in the warm orange light of the house, her shrouded in darkness and mystery.

At first all Lucien could see of Elain was her big eyes, peeking over her purple cloak like beacons. But he’d recognise those eyes everywhere, sometimes it felt as though they were in his room, watching him. She seemed to still as he caught her eye, him standing in the warm orange light of the house, her shrouded in darkness and mystery.

In response to the cold and the rain, Elain’s cheeks had flushed a healthy rose. Her eyes were wide, and Lucien could see how the water had darkened and elongated her lashes. If Elain were this beautiful when she was fae, Lucien couldn’t comprehend how magnificent she must’ve looked like a human. Surely there had been suitor after suitor, clawing for a minute of her time, or even a handkerchief or a pearl. Anything of hers to prove to themselves that such beauty was possible – that she was somehow real.

It wasn’t until Lucien had stuttered a meek ‘come in’ when he noticed the second bundle of a person over Elain’s shoulder. When they came into the light of the foyer, Lucien had recognised her as one of the shadow wraith’s that often accompanied Elain in the Night Court. Which one, he could not tell, but she was lesser fae, and lesser fae were always welcome in his home.

Lucien was sure he was in a state of shock, his ears were ringing faintly as Elain entered a polite discussion with Jurian who was smiling enough for the both of them. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, convinced that if he even blinked for too long then she’d disappear, back to the Night Court.

Lucien stood lamely to the side, his posture rigid. Vassa remained at the base of the stairs, whatever her countenance was to Elain’s arrival, he didn’t care for it. As Jurian chatted, Elain had pulled back her hood to reveal her hair of deep gold, soaked entirely, as though she had just arisen from a bath. Lucien dug his nails into his palm.

She was so beautiful, and it hurt to wonder how the Cauldron had ever, at any point of time, believed him worthy of being considered a perfect equal to such a creature.

“Ah, might this be the letter?” Lucien forced himself to tune into the conversation.

“Yes,” Elain’s gentle voice washed over him, lapping across his skin and like magic, it began to soothe him. “From the High Lady of the Night Court. I am to be staying with you for some time it seems, an extra hand to deal with the councils. If that would be alright?” Her voice, unlike Jurian’s or Vassa’s, was consistently soft, and in a strange way, it gave her an aura of power. As though she need not speak too loudly or rush her words, as she knew the world would be listening anyway.

“Ah,” Jurian plucked the sopping note from Elain’s palm, and though he really didn’t care, Lucien watched with intent at how Jurian avoided touching any part of Elain’s skin. Instead, he grabbed the letter’s corner and held it out as it dribbled rainwater across the red and gold carpet.

“Oh, um,” Elain seemed to flush, “I promise you it was a note from Feyre. The lettering might be a bit…illegible.”

“I think we can take your word, Ms Archeron.”

“Elain, please,” she whispered politely with a small curtsey that clearly came naturally. Lucien was so taken aback by Elain that he barely had time to recognise that Jurian was putting on a big show of good behaviour for his mate. If Elain had been anyone else, and if Lucien had been back in the Spring Court manor wearing his fox mask, he would’ve winked and told Elain that she was pretty enough to go where she pleased since kings would most likely fall to her feet anyway, but he just bit his tongue and cocked his head.

He needed to say something to her, he needed to be able to look into those eyes. What was she really doing here? Had Feyre truly sanctioned this? She’d said High Lady, not High Lord. Why had she come in the middle of the night? Why was she here, why was she really here?

“Let me take that for you,” was all he ended up saying, looking from Elain to her cloak then back to her eyes.

Some part of him hated seeing Elain in damp clothes with her hair dripping. It reminded him too much of the first time he’d seen her, as his mate, after she’d just been through the most traumatic experience of her life. He wished nothing more than to wrap her up into his arms and send wave after wave of warmth through her to dry her clothes, to make sure she was never cold and shivering again.

Elain seemed to stare at him for a moment, and Lucien wondered if she could possibly be just as taken aback by him as he was of her. How many of these moments, these little pauses between words, were genuine? And how much of it was the drive of the bond?

“Thank you,” She whispered, her hands reaching up to undo the clasp at her neck. As she did so, Lucien adverted his eyes. Something about seeing Elain remove an item of clothing, even a sopping cloak, felt too much like an invasion of privacy. And then she was holding her cloak out to him, and he just nodded at her, allowing his lips to turn up at the corners as he took the damp material, making sure not to accidentally touch her bare hands.

Behind Elain, the twin appeared to cock her head and glare at him, her message clear – ‘and what about me, huh?’ Lucien ignored her as he folded the cloak over his arm and took a step back towards the wall.

“Well, welcome to Lockhart Manor, Ms Archeron,” Vassa then announced herself as she strode forth from the base of the stairs, her posture stiff and elegant. This wasn’t Vassa speaking. This was a queen. “We have spare rooms in abundance which you’re more than welcome to settle into, since the maids are asleep right now please allow me to take you to your quarters.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” Elain nodded and smiled politely, a faint flush spreading on her cheeks, one that threatened to bring Lucien to his knees.

“No luggage, or are you not staying long?” Vassa inquired innocently enough, and had Lucien tore his eyes away from Elain for just a moment, he would’ve seen the slight glint in the queen’s eye.

“My sister will winnow me my bags tomorrow morning. You see, it was paramount we left the Night Court at a certain time. Unfortunately, this was our best window for travelling, but Feyre insisted you would be awake given…” given Vassa’s curse, her inability to see sunlight with human eyes.

“Are you in danger?” Lucien couldn’t bite his tongue as something began to rise within him – Terror? Anger? Worry? Elain’s big eyes drifted back to his, and once more she seemed to pause before speaking.

“No,” she breathed. Her voice was just a petal in the wind. “At least, only in danger of Nesta finding out I’m missing.”

“You didn’t tell her you were coming here?” If Lucien wasn’t mistaken, that might just be a slightly mischievous glint alight in Elain’s eye. The idea of Elain deceiving her viper of a sister to come across the world to stay with him, seemed far too good to be real, and Lucien couldn’t stop the small grin that pulled at his lips.

“Well, you must be tired after such a journey.” Lucien wished Vassa hadn’t spoken because it pulled Elain’s gaze from his. Lucien also suspected that little travelling had been done since Elain’s companion was a shadow wraith, and able to travel the world via the shades. “Please, let me show you to your room.”

Lucien hated to see her go, as she politely curtseyed to the queen before following her up the stairs and disappearing down a corridor which led to the western wings. It was only when she was, in fact, out of sight, that Lucien felt the reality of her presence collide with him like a pile of bricks.

Suddenly, he was breathing too quickly, no, too slowly. His body was overheating, and his heart was racing. All around him swirled her scent and every cell in his body was screaming at him to follow her up the stairs, to keep her in sight and never let her leave it. Keep her warm, keep her safe.

“Careful Luce,” Jurian’s voice called him back to reality, and he found Jurian peering at him with that god-damn, shit-eating, all-knowing grin, “She’s going to want that back,” was all he said as he nodded at the sopping cloak Lucien had clutched against his abdomen. The rainwater soaking through his linens, and making him shiver.

***

“You say your sister sent you?” Vassa was leading Elain and Nuala down a series of hallways. Elain liked the manor, one she would’ve adored when she was human. There was a crimson carpet that bled across the entire house, embellished with threads of sparkling gold. Deep brown wood covered the walls in panels, and there were candles here, not faelight, which cast the hallways in a warm, watery glow. It felt so familiar, in such a painful way.

“I wanted to be of some use to my sister following Briallyn, she thought I could be of use in working with the human councils given I…well, I…”

“Used to be human?” The queen’s voice was slightly monotonous, almost sounding as though she were somewhat bored, that these things happened all the time.

“Yes,” Elain nodded furiously. She’d been so caught up in the idea of seeing Lucien again that she’d practically forgotten Jurian and Vassa.

“Well, after a good night’s rest you might be able to catch me before sunrise and we can discuss where you’d be most useful.”

“Yes, thank you…what kind of work is there?”

“Meetings with councils and human lords, establishing positive relations between fae and humans which, considering humans were enslaved to the fae a few hundred years ago, isn’t the easiest relationship to manage. There’s also work to be done regarding the human armies, and not to mention the other human queens. We could also use with someone prepared to travel to establish trade routes between the mortal lands and the Spring Court, though, really all of this pales in comparison to cleaning up the mess Briallyn left behind.”

Elain blew out a breath. There was so much going on in the world, in the mortal lands alone, and her family had hidden it all from her. Or had they hidden her from the world? It didn’t matter, she was here now, and she was prepared to make herself as useful as possible.

“Where can I find you, to talk tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll most likely be in the dining room, taking breakfast with Lucien and Jurian.” The Queen swung a hard left and Elain stumbled slightly as she tried to follow.

“Okay…thank you, for everything.” Elain put on her best smile, but the queen wasn’t looking at her.

“You were quite sick the last time I saw you,” was all the queen said in response, and Elain felt as though ice had been poured down the back of her dress.

“Yes, I was,” Elain said quietly, her eyes meeting those of Nuala’s for a fleeting moment. God, where was her room?

“You’re better now?”

“Yes,” Elain practically whispered, not interested in being reminded of those torturous months post-Cauldron. Especially when, technically, she was still in them.

“Good,” Vassa said, and Elain couldn’t read her tone, but then, “Here are your quarters, Jurian’s rooms are just down the hall. If you wish to find me, or Lucien,” she paused slightly, “Then you can find our rooms in the East wing. Just ask a passing maid and they’ll lead you to us.”

Something ugly reared its head inside Elain as Vassa referred to her and Lucien as an ‘us’. And if Elain wasn’t mistaken, judging by the glint in Vassa’s eye, the language had been intentional. But Elain knew this game, knew how to play a courtier, how to manipulate a crowd with a smile.

Interesting, some part of Elain perked up. Maybe she’d gotten herself into more than she was expecting by coming to Lockhart Manor. Or maybe, it was a really, really good thing she’d come at all.

“Thank you,” was all Elain said, letting nothing pass her courtly smile. “For everything.”

***

Nuala had her own room but had stayed with Elain for a while after Vassa’s departure, perhaps reading the slight tension in the Acheron’s shoulders as she perched herself at her room’s vanity. If Elain was rational, then she would be obsessing over Vassa, of what she said and the look in her eye as she spoke. She would try and unfurl the dynamic she was to expect at breakfast tomorrow, when the world was still dark.

But she was thinking of him.

Lucien was different here, and Elain realised that she’d never seen him out of the Night Court. In fact, all at once the chaste meetings they’d had thus far seemed entirely, hilariously inadequate.

He was otherworldly, something about him seemed more fae than the others, even the Illyrian’s with their beautiful wings. Lucien was fire and light in form. His hair, no mortal could even imagine hair like that. In fact, Elain was convinced that even Feyre couldn’t capture it’s essence in her paintings. It was ever-changing, always moving and shifting colours in the light, almost as though it were alive. When she’d first seen him in the Night Court it had been a paler, autumnal orange with what seemed to be streaked with glittering gold. But here, by the candlelight of Lockhart manor, it was the red of rust and blood.

His skin was made of tan plains that rose and fell over the contours of his body in a way that reminded Elain of the deserts she’d seen drawn in adventure books. And then there was his impossible height, taller than everyone, including those back at the Night Court, only beating Cassian by an inch. He had a presence in a room like no other, he demanded intrigue and interest, with his mismatched eyes and brutal scar.

Maybe Elain had only been so nervous of Lucien because of that reason. Because she was used to seeing men who appeared to have not quite come into their bodies, their chins loose with excess skin, their hair wiry and coarse. And Lucien…Lucien looked as though he’d had hundreds of years to hone his body. Tall and sharp, standing with a poise that reminded Elain of a blade. His eyes alert and always moving, and a mouth that quirked to the side, as though there was always some dirty joke resting on the tip of his tongue.

Guilt moved through Elain in a wave. First, guilt over Graysen, then guilt over Azriel. Both men whom she’d also found to be beautiful, in their own ways. The innocence of Graysen, which in hindsight, proved to be a hilarious interpretation. The mystery of Azriel, the way that even when she was convinced he wanted her, she was never entirely sure.

Perhaps it wasn’t guilt that washed through Elain, but rather dread. Because here she was, again, and all she could hear was her mother’s voice echoing in her mind – Foolish girl. Foolish, foolish girl. Her mother would tell her that she never learns.

Or maybe she wouldn’t. She’d only admitted to herself that Lucien was attractive, his eyes searing, looking every bit of the fae prince as he swung open the door, backlit by gold and red light. And the bond was supposed to make her find him attractive, right? She could consult the book she’d brought later. Because that was the problem – what was real and what was the bond? Did Lucien truly care for her? Would he have even looked her way if the bond hadn’t existed? No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t be convinced. Lucien was suited to the bold courage of Nesta or even the quick-wit of Feyre. Elain was brutally soft. Men like Lucien didn’t care for the delicate - right?

“I’m sorry to take you from your sister, Nuala,” Elain whispered, as her friend began to comb through her dripping hair.

“It’s no problem,” Nuala’s voice was like velvet, and in the mirror, Elain could see her eyes were soft and her mouth turned up at the corners. “Sometimes getting away from family can be good for you.”

Elain hummed in response as Nuala began to knot her hair into a crown of elegant braids so that her hair would dry with a curl.

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Inukag Royalty AU

“I see that,” the King chuckled, gathering the child into his arms. He looked at Kagome. “And who have you brought Rin?”

While Rin was all happy smiles, Kagome immediately went on edge. Of all the people to see first, the King himself! She was not prepared whatsoever to meet the Inutaisho, but she bit down and hid her rising anxiety, pulling on all those years of putting on a false expression to get through important meetings. All she had to do was get through this encounter. Bring the girl home safely, go through some pleasantries, and be on her way.

“She found me in the market when I got lost. Can we keep her papa?”

Kagome’s heart stopped. ‘Wait what?!’ Did Rin just say what she thought she’d said?!

Again, the male laughed. “Well, we’ll have to see.”

“Papa, she can be my new attendant. Please! She’s so much nicer than the other one.”

“Oh?” The man turned back to Kagome. “Thank you for assisting my granddaughter, miss?”

Thinking quickly. “Kagome Tanaka,” she bowed. “And the pleasure was mine. The Princess was a joy to talk to.”

“Miss Tanaka, are you from around here?”

“I’m from a small village on the outskirts of the kingdom.”

“Her mom and dad are dead like mine, so she needs a new job.” Rin chimed in.

“Is that true?” He questioned.

“Yes. It’s why I came to the city thinking I’d have a better chance to find one. I actually just arrived this morning when I came across the Princess.”

“I see. Then tell me do you have any qualifications to be a Lady in Waiting?”

“I believe so your majesty. My mother schooled me in all the main subjects. Language, arts, history, literature, and such, so I’d hoped to find a tutoring position with a noble family here.”

“How interesting.” The King put Rin down. “For such a coincidence.”

Startled, Kagome bowed low again. “I swear it was never intended your majesty.” She didn’t want the king to think she’d targeted Rin for a nefarious reason. “My only intentions were to make sure she got home safely.”

He waved his hand with a chuckle. “I believe you. Our Rin here is very determined and she must have taken a genuine liking to you. But the decision is up to her father, my son to make.” The King then turned to his granddaughter. “Why don’t I wait here with miss Tanaka, and you go and fetch your father?”

“Okay!” Rin skipped merrily away on her mission. “I’ll be back quick!”

“While we wait, tell me more about yourself miss Tanaka. For starters, it is unusual for a commoner to be educated.”

“Oh… as a young girl my mother was a nanny for a noble house and as her ward was tutored, she herself learned things. She told me she loved learning so much that she took every opportunity she could to read and spent her off times in that family’s library. After marriage and having me, she took it upon herself to make sure I was educated because she wanted me to have a better life.”

“She sounds like a good mother.”

“I miss her dearly and only hope that one day I’ll be as good a mother as she was.”

“Your instincts have already shown through when you saw a lost child and decided to help her.”

Kagome blushed. “Thank you, your majesty for your kind words.”

They chatted for only a couple more minutes by the time Rin came back holding the hand of a tall, very statuesque male. Her father looked a lot like the King except his hair was free flowing and he had a crescent moon on his forehead. Another glaring difference was in demeanor. While the King was very pleasant from the get-go, Rin’s father wore an irritated expression. The child had mentioned that he scared people, and now Kagome could see why.

“That’s her, papa!” Rin pointed at Kagome. “She’s the one I want to be my attendant.”

“Miss Tanaka,” the King gestured, “this is my son Prince Sesshomaru.”

Kagome bowed to the Prince. “It’s nice to meet you, your highness.”

The Prince looked down, fixing Kagome in a stare as he spoke. “My daughter tells me you found her lost in the market?”

“Yes, your royal highness.”

“I’ve spoken with Miss Tanaka, and she appears to have all of the qualifications needed for the position.” The King tells his son. “I would approve, but the decision is yours.”

“Please, daddy!” Rin pulled on her father’s hand. “She’s really, really nice! I really like her!”

The Prince barely showed any reaction to his child’s whims, so it was hard to discern what he was thinking. Kagome just continued to stand there silently and demure as possible while he stared straight at her. It was nerve wracking!

Finally, the man spoke. “Very well. The royal steward will prepare a room for you.” He then gave a slight nod to his father and left the room leaving his child practically bouncing with excitement.

The moment Sesshomaru turned his back, Kagome let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in. His intensity was a force all its own and she had no idea how Rin could be so mellow to it. Yet the child was completely oblivious and seemed to have the man wrapped around her fingers. He didn’t even question anything.

The king chuckled. “Rin, why don’t you show Ms. Tanaka around while things are taken care of.”

“Okay papa!” Rin grabbed Kagome’s hand and started pulling her away. “I’ll show you all the cool parts in the palace! Then we can hang out in my room.”

“It was nice to meet you, your majesty.” Kagome tried and failed to bow properly while being yanked away to the chuckling amusement of the King.

They spent much of the afternoon walking around the palace, inside and out with Rin playing the excitable tour guide introducing Kagome to everyone. It was a typical sized palace from what she could see, though the styling is what differed from her own. Several private rooms and guest rooms, administrative type rooms, entertaining rooms, etc. But the one she knew instantly she’d be spending a considerable time in would be the library. Oh, the texts that room held were simply amazing! So many ancient documents dating back hundreds or perhaps thousands of years! It’ll be wonderful to take a book and read it in the lovely garden on a nice sunny day.

As the afternoon sun dipped closer to the horizon, the royal steward found the pair in Rin’s room chatting quietly about a storybook they’d found in the library. Myouga was the older man’s name and he explained to Kagome her duties under the official role of the Lady in Waiting to the Princess. She was the child’s tutor in all areas of education and would accompany the girl any time she left the castle grounds or as needed by the Princess. All of her food, shelter, and personal needs including attire would be furnished by the kingdom along with a small stipend. The same bedchamber maids that attended to Princess Rin’s laundry and cleaning would also take care of hers.

“The former attendants room has been prepared for you Miss. Tanaka. It is the next room over. Your clothes for dinner has already been laid out on your vanity by the bedchamber maid. I trust we chose the correct size for you. Tomorrow, I shall have one of the royal guards take you to the royal seamstress to set you up properly.”

“Thank you, Mr. Myouga. I understand. I just have one question. Before meeting Rin in the marketplace, I’d boarded my horse and meager belongings at the Umagoya. I’d like to retrieve them. My horse is very precious to me.”

“Certainly. See the palace stable hand and he’ll accompany you to retrieve your horse to take it back to the stables.”

Once the man left them alone, they followed his instructions of taking the stable hand into town with them to hand off the horse. It would have been nice if she could spend more time with the stead to get him adjusted, but they needed to get ready for dinner. So, Kagome promised Rin they’d visit Buyo in the stables the next day. When they arrived back at their rooms, two bedchamber maids were waiting, one for each other them.

Kagome patted the hand she held of Rin’s. “I’ll fetch you once I’ve changed, okay?”

“Yup!” Rin hugged Kagome before skipping towards her room.

The white dress with red, orange, and pink accents presented to Kagome was a bit more extravagant than she’d expected to be given to a simple attendant. It was elegant and form fitting from the bust down to the floor, with a slit running down the side of the skirt from mid-thigh to allow for easier movement. The top half was full sleeved, mid-collared, with knotted button closures running down the front until it reached mid-chest. She’d noticed this outfit resembled the same style worn by other nobles and royals in the palace, but not the commoners who wore much simpler outfits. And while not mentioned yet, the colors were also a theme associated with the royal family. It was very different from what people wore back home in her kingdom, but the style was beautiful to Kagome. Aside from the dress, the bedchamber also re-did her hair, adding accessories befitting the dress as well as makeup. Kagome was glad to see it was done with a natural tone and not too gaudy. She never did like being made up to look like a doll. It was a bit odd to her that she’d be dining with the royal family, but again she assumed it was because of Rin’s age and excitable nature. The child was young and having her attendant present necessary so the adults could go about their business. It was nice though, that they included the child. Kagome chuckled inwardly as she thought about the two royal members she’d met so far. The Prince did not seem to even care about a child being around yet must have a heart to have adopted Rin in the first place.

The bedchamber provided information on other dynamics of the royal household so that she wouldn’t ask the wrong questions. According to the woman, the Inutaisho had two queens. The primary Queen was Prince Sesshomaru’s mother through an arranged marriage. It was a loveless marriage, so once she’d fulfilled her obligation of providing a son, she was allowed to live away in her own royal villa in the countryside. It was a few years later when the Inutaisho met a human Princess in another kingdom, fell in love, and took her as a second Queen. She too bore a son, half yokai, half human named Prince Inuyasha. Prince Sesshomaru was married but he and Princess Kagura had yet to produce an offspring of their own. Rin, again according to the woman was an orphaned daughter of a highly respected human general in the army who despite his ornery disposition really gravitated to the Prince. That affection grew on the Prince until he’d decided to simply adopt the child as his own. It was a really nice story and showed maybe first impressions are not always accurate.

“Good evening Ms. Tanaka,” Inutaisho welcomed Kagome as she sat beside Rin at the large dining table. “I trust your accommodations are amenable?”

“Very much so, your majesty. Thank you very much. Your palace is very beautiful.”

The king chuckled. “Is there any room in the palace you liked the most?”

“The library,” Kagome responded. “All the old texts are quite amazing to see gathered in one place.”

“Ah yes.” He smiled. “There is much history held in that room.”

Prince Sesshomaru and his wife Princess Kagura arrived shortly, and Rin introduced Kagome to her mother. Kagura was just as statuesque as her husband, a poised beauty befitting a future Queen. Servants puttered about setting out appetizers before the first course coming in a few minutes. So, in the meantime, Kagome and Kagura chatted about Rin’s schedule. The woman was happy to see her adopted daughter so happy because the child never got along with the last attendant, regardless of how highly recommended the woman had been.

“Ah!” The King suddenly stood up. “There’s my Queen.”

Kagome stopped talking to look at who the man was talking about and saw another gorgeous woman walking towards him. The Queen was definitely human, with long raven hair pinned back away from her face, and flowing dress of the royal color schemes. They were adorable to Kagome, how the Inutaisho greeted her and helped her into her chair. Royals were often assumed to be haughty, proud, and snobbish but it could be quite the contrary as evident in the Inutaisho’s caring nature. Kagome was certain that, if necessary, the man could be a very imposing figure indeed, but with loved ones no different than any other, human or yokai.

The King introduced Kagome to his wife. “This is Queen Izayoi.”

Kagome stood up and bowed. “I’m pleased to meet you, your majesty.”

“I’m pleased to meet you too, Ms. Tanaka, I’ve heard a lot about you from my husband. Thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.”

“You’re too kind,” Kagome bowed again.

“I’m certain you— Oh,” the Queen cut short and focused he’d gaze past Kagome. “You made it, my son.”

‘Son?’ Kagome turned to see who the Queen was talking about. ‘Oh… wow…’

“Inuyasha, come meet your niece’s new Lady in Waiting, Ms. Tanaka.”

[latristereina]

Mary I of England + primary sources (1531, 1541, 1554)

This Princess is not very tall, has a pretty face, and is well proportioned (disposta) with a very beautiful complexion, and is 15 years old. She speaks Spanish, French, and Latin, besides her own mother-English tongue, is well grounded in Greek, and understands Italian, but does not venture to speak it. She sings excellently, and plays on several instruments, so that she combines every accomplishment.

(x)

She is of middle stature, and is in face like her father, especially about the mouth, but has a voice more manlike, for a woman, than he has for a man. To judge by portraits, her neck is like her mother's. With a fresh complexion she looks not past 18 or 20 although she is 24. Her beauty is mediocre, and it may be said that she is one of the belles of this Court, She is active, and apparently not delicate, loving morning exercise and walking often two or three miles. She speaks and writes French well. Saw letters of hers in French, written to the Emperor's ambassador in the time of her “ennuy.” She understands Latin and enjoys books of “lettres humaines,” which were her solace in sleepless nights at the time she was molested. She delights in music and plays the spinnet “singulièrement.” In conversation, together with sweetness and benignity, she is prudent and reserved. The chamber woman says that when her mother was first repudiated she was sick with “ennuy,” but, on being visited and comforted by the King, soon recovered and has had no such illness since. Her physician and apothecary are Spaniards, and to enquire of them would arouse suspicion; but the apothecary once told Marillac that he never gave her anything but light things, “comme casses, conserves et semblables drogues,” which she took more often because it was her father's command than because she needed them. The chamber woman thinks her of a disposition to have children soon, if married. Has tried to get a portrait of her, but no painter dare attempt it without the King's command.

(x)

The Queen, surrounded by three or four old councillors and her ladies in waiting, came out to the door of her chamber. The Prince kissed her, for such is the English custom, and hand in hand they sat down and remained for a time in pleasant conversation. He then rose and kissed the other ladies present, and his attendants kissed the Queen’s hand. She was dressed in black velvet covered with stones and buttons and adorned with brocade in front. Her headdress was after the English fashion.

The Queen is a very good creature (muy buena cosa), though rather older than we had been told. But his Highness is so tactful and attentive to her that I am sure they will be very happy; and Our Lord will see to the rest, as He has done so far wherever this affair was concerned.

The Princess of Portugal sent the Queen a fine present of dresses and coifs, and the Queen has not yet finished looking at them and rejoicing over them. I believe that if she dressed in our fashions she would not look so old and flabby.

The Queen’s house is richly adorned with brocades and tapestries woven with gold thread. At table there are always two English lords in attendance, one behind the Queen and the other behind the King, holding up sheathed swords. Those who served were Englishmen all except Don Iñigo de Mendoza, son of the Duke of Infantado, who bore the cup, and four of his Highness’s gentlemen who helped to serve. None of the Prince’s own officers have had a chance to serve or use their wands of office, nor is it expected that they will do so in future, neither the controller nor anyone else; so we might just as well be sent away, as we are nothing but vagabonds here.

On Saturday, the King heard mass in his. chapel, the Queen assisting in the upper gallery. In the afternoon the Duchess of Alva went to the palace, escorted by all the lords and gentlemen of the court. Her hair was beautifully dressed, and she wore a black velvet gown adorned with lace and black silk embroidery. The Queen awaited her in the antechamber, dressed in black damask with a stomacher of black velvet embroidered with gold. She was standing when the Duchess entered, and advanced nearly to the door, where the Duchess sank to her knees and begged the Queen to give her her hand to kiss. The Queen bent down almost equally low, embraced her, refused to give her her hand but lifted her to her feet and kissed her on the lips, as Queens of England do to great ladies of their own blood, but to none other. So she took the Duchess by the hand, asking news of her journey and how she had fared at sea, expressing great pleasure at seeing her; and, leading her to a dais on which there stood a high chair, the Queen sat on a cushion asking the Duchess to be seated in the chair. The Duchess implored the Queen to take the chair, the Queen refused, and so two stools covered with velvet brocade were brought, on one of which the Queen sat, asking the Duchess to accept the other, but the Duchess bowed low and sat upon the floor after the English custom, whereupon the Queen left her stool and sat down beside her guest on a cushion, refusing to get up, but the Duchess insisted until the Queen sat once more on her stool; but then the Queen commanded the Duchess to take the other one, which she finally did.

There they stayed talking for a long time, the Marquis of Las Navas acting as interpreter, for the Queen does not speak Castilian, though she understands it. They spoke of the heat and other things, and the Queen asked the Duchess if she would go into her chamber and rest, as she was obliged to receive some ambassadors. When the Duchess answered that she would stay with her ladies the Queen would not allow her to do so, and thus they waited for the ambassadors’ coming, but as the ambassadors delayed the Queen sat down again with the Duchess and conversed for a time, after which the Duchess took her leave and returned to her lodging, a long distance to come and go on foot. The Queen ordered her to be accompanied by two countesses and the old ambassador who went to Corunna. The Queen certainly took great pleasure in her society, and will do so more and more, both in hers and in that of the other Spanish ladies who have come hither; and she is so good that we may well thank God for giving us such a bountiful princess to be our Queen. God save her! He has already preserved her through such trials that we may say she remained the one hope and refuge of the Faith in this realm; but now that the Faith is gaining ground day by day, divine worship, established as it was before, will grow ever firmer in its hold on the country with such good catholics on the throne.

(x)

[everythingroyalty]

who do you thinks gonna be at the confirmation?

Well, Joachim, Marie, John and Susan not bothering to go just opened a lot of space 🥴 So 25... since the DRF considers it a private event, I doubt we’ll get an official guest list. I’m thinking they’ll go for the closest (family and people special to Christian) for the 25 in the church, and then I think they might pop up an open pavilion outside for the celebration afterwards.

Essentials (9):

Queen Margrethe II

Crown Prince Frederik

Crown Princess Mary

Prince Christian

Princess Isabella

Prince Vincent

Princess Josephine

Prince Nikolai

Prince Felix

I’d be surprised if not (3):

Princess Benedikte (I can’t imagine Benedikte won’t be there)

Jeppe and Birgitte Handwerk (Jeppe being the only of Christian’s godparents who’ll “be able” to go (🙄) and together with Birgitte, they’re some of M&F’s closest friends)

Very likely (3):

Princess Alexandra of Sayn-Wittgenstein-Berleburg (another family member who lives in Denmark, she’s also close to M&F (but not close enough for them to make her godmother of one of the kids 😒), I can definitely see her going)

Count Michael Ahlefeldt-Laurvig-Bille (Alexandra’s husband and a friend of M&F (and Vincent’s godfather), if Alexandra is going, I’m pretty sure Michael is too)

Countess Ingrid von Pfeil und Klein-Ellguth (Alexandra’s daughter who also lives in Denmark and have spent a lot of time with Christian growing up)

Outer tier of likeliness but not straight up unlikely (7):

Mette Hansen (Christian and his siblings’ former nanny. They’ve had several nannies, I only know the names of a few of them, but I know they were very close to Mette and I can imagine her getting an invite – probably alongside some of the other people (based in Denmark) who’ve been and still are close to the children)

The children’s chamber assistant (no name man or The Manny™, an aide-de-camp type of person M&F hired last year)

The Handwerk daughters (they’d obviously accompany their parents and they’re also close to both Christian and Bella)

One of QMII’s ladies-in-waiting (my guess would be Annelise Wern who, I believe, is the longest serving of her four LiWs – if she’s going, Benedikte might bring hers as well)

Count Ingolf and Countess Sussie of Rosenborg (listen, I’m grasping at straws here but Ingolf is QMII’s cousin and since so many other people aren’t able to go, maybe they’ve invited them?)

OR, Christian might have invited his friends to go? That would be a neat touch since he won’t be confirmed alongside his classmates like you’d usually be.

I’m sort of on the edge about whether or not they’d invite friends beyond the Handwerks and Michael ALB (who’d go in capacity of Alexandra’s husband). When there’s restricted attendance, it very easily becomes a game of Which Friends Are We Closest To 😬 My gut tells me they’d probably hold off on the friends till the party afterwards but otherwise, this seems to be the closest circle:

Peter and Caroline Heering

Jørgen and Malou Skeel

Otto and Helle Reedtz-Thott

Rikke and Michael Juel Brandt

Christian and Elisabeth Buchwald

Bendt and Pernille Wedell

Ellen Hillingsø and Christoffer Castenskiold

Anders and Anne Holch Povlsen

All + children.

Probably not:

Countess Alexandra of Fredensborg (would LOVE it if Alexandra went when Joachim and Marie couldn’t be arsed to go but I fear M&F fear it would cause a stir)

Benedikte Tholstrup (Nikolai’s girlfriend – she might be invited to a possible party afterwards but I doubt she’d accompany Nikolai to the church)

[dirt-cup-draco]

Peter Pevensie x Reader - I’d Go Anywhere With You

Could I please get something with Peter pevensie x reader where the reader is one of Susan's ladies in waiting and she and peter both like eachother but neither know it until susan schemes for them to get together and has the reader travel to archenland with him? Sorry if this doesn't make sense the quarantines making me lose it. Thank you❤   @sunshine-and-riverwater

“What do you mean Y/N is coming with me?” Peter asked, fork paused halfway to his mouth as Susan declared during breakfast that her lady in waiting would be accompanying him. “I do not see the need,” He pointed out, suspicious at the look of his sister’s smug expression. 

“You have business in Archenland and she has an ill family member, it makes sense does it not? I will not be in need of her until you return,” Peter thought for a moment and nodded. He hadn’t known that you were worried over ill family. Why hadn’t you told him, he wondered.

Little did he know, Susan had spun you an entirely different tale. 

“Why would I go with King Peter, your highness?” You asked, eyes wide as you brushed through her hair. “My skills are better suited to taking care of your needs,” You said humbly as to not appear as if you were arguing with your Queen. 

“Nonsense, if I need a handmaid then my brother certainly does as well. This is important business and he needs to look his best! I trust you to make sure he is perfectly presentable for the King of Archenland,” She turned in her seat and beamed. Without notice she stood and rushed you to out her doors. “Now start packing, your horses will be ready for you soon,” 

Peter and you were both blushing as you arrived at the stables at the same time. A friendly knight who would be following along with you had your light bags and helped you strap them to your horse. “Thank you for allowing me to accompany you, your highness,” You tried to keep your composure as Peter stepped closer and lowered his voice.

“You know you can call me by my name, Y/N,” Peter pleaded with you. He had hoped you would have become more comfortable with him in the past couple of days. He was nearly grateful that Susan had encouraged you to go see your family at this time. Peter was positive you had been avoiding him the past couple of days. 

It couldn’t be denied that there was a history between you two and that there had been for some time now. You were hesitant to let go of social classes however and didn’t feel as comfortable as Peter did with being together.

He had caught you in the kitchens late one night, cleaning when all the other maids had gone to rest. Peter hadn’t been able to sleep and had come for a glass of milk. You’d been happy to get it for him but instead of leaving like he should have, Peter lingered. He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you since Susan had introduced you to him one day as you shadowed his sister. He was smitten.

It seemed you felt the same. He often caught you looking wistfully in his direction. It spurred him on and in a moment of boldness he had kissed you in the quiet of the deserted kitchen. You had relaxed immediately against him, hands warm and calloused against his bare chest as he hadn’t thought to put on a shirt before leaving his chambers. 

A moment later however you were pulling away, apologizing profusely. You had taken your leave after that and he had found it hard to get a hold of you since then. Even now you were avoiding his eyes. 

“It would be better if I continued to address you as my superior, your highness. I am just a lady in waiting after all,” You smiled softly, far too happy with your place in the world and not believing you had the nerve to cross lines. 

Peter sighed but respected your wishes. He would not push you. Instead he mounted his horse and charged ahead as the rest of his company followed after. 

After some time of passing rolling hills and thickets of trees, Peter slowed his horse down to fall next to you as you were all trotting at a leisurely pace. You stayed quiet but it seemed the king did not have the same thing in mind. 

“You can’t ignore me forever,” He tried to tease but you just hung your head low in shame.

You had enjoyed yourself immensely when you had kissed Peter. It had been perfect, and that was the problem. He was a king and you were not meant to mingle with him. You were positive he would be married to some beautiful princess from a nearby land and he would forget all about you. You were nothing more than a distraction, you believed. 

“I mean no disrespect, my King,” You muttered softly, yet this time you looked him in the eye. You did not want to hurt Peter, you cared for him deeply but how could he possibly feel the same for you? 

“Think nothing of it,” He said warmly, just happy that you were speaking to him. “I send my regards to your family,” Peter added.

You looked at him quizzically. “What for?” 

The king beside you paled. “Susan told me you were traveling with us because of an ill family member, aren’t you going to visit them?” 

You let your mouth hang open. “I don’t have family in Archenland, Susan- I mean, the Queen, told me that you needed assistance in getting presentable for your business and that I would be helping you,” You were beet red and so was Peter.

And then you both burst into laughter. 

“I think Queen Susan the Mischievous is more appropriate than her current title,” Peter laughed as you wiped a stray tear at the corner of your eye.

“What a predicament we find ourselves in,” You wheezed but sobered up. “Would you like me to go back, your highness?” 

“No, no,” Peter insisted. He found he enjoyed this time with you. “And please Y/N-”

“Call you Peter?” You guessed, a small smile on his face. His heart stopped in his chest. The sound of his name uttered through your lips was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. 

“Yes,” He said, trying to sound kingly and not like a school boy with a crush. “If you wish to leave then I cannot stop you but I wouldn’t mind your company,” Peter admitted. 

“Okay, Peter,” You smiled towards him, the situation easing your tensions. “I will continue with you on this journey, I think I’d go anywhere with you,” Peter couldn’t be sure in that moment if you were speaking of your trip to Archenland or something far more exciting but he was pleased all the same. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” Peter said earnestly. “I will be glad to have you,” 

Peter steered his horse close enough to yours that he could capture your hand and press and a fleeting kiss to your knuckles before he returned to his previous spot. In retaliation you blew him a kiss. High King Peter felt very small in that moment. He realized he would stop at nothing to make you his queen. 

“Besides,” You interrupted his sentimental and wistful thoughts. “I believe my Queen was right in sending me with you. You could use some help getting ready for your meetings,” You sent a mock disgusted look up and down him, disapproving his choice in clothes for the day. Peter furrowed his brow and sent you a playful glare. You giggled and shook the reigns, speeding your horse forward. 

Peter chased after you, a lighthearted laugh spilling past his lips, it was hard to believe he was on his way to discuss matters between kingdoms with how jovial he was. To anyone who watched, it was evident the two of you had a special connection. After all, anyone who could get Peter to forget all of his duties and burdens was someone worth holding onto. 

[lizzy-tudor]

“Maria de Salinas was lady-in-waiting to Katherine of Aragon, and one of her closest confidantes. Although we know little of her origins, she was the daughter of Juan de Salinas, secretary to Katherine’s eldest sister, Isabella, and Josepha Gonzales de Salas. Despite the fact that she was not on the original list of ladies, drawn up in 1500, chosen to accompany Katherine of Aragon to England for her marriage to Prince Arthur, it seems likely that she, and her sister Inez, did come to England with the Spanish princess. She may have been added to the princess’s staff when her mother, Isabella of Castile, increased the size of Katherine’s entourage in March 1501.

Maria was one of the ladies who stayed with Katherine after her household was reduced and many returned to Spain, following the death of Katherine’s young husband, Arthur, Prince of Wales, in 1502. She stayed with the Spanish princess throughout the years of penury and uncertainty, when Katherine was used as a pawn by both her father, Ferdinand, and father-in-law, Henry VII, in negotiations for her marriage to Prince Henry, the future Henry VIII; a marriage which was one of Henry’s first acts on his accession to the throne. Maria is included in the list of Katherine’s attendants who were given an allowance of black cloth for mantles and kerchiefs, following the death of Henry VII in 1509; she was then given a new gown for Katherine’s coronation, which was held jointly with King Henry in June of the same year.

In 1511 Maria stood as godmother to Mary Brandon, daughter of Charles Brandon – one of the new king, Henry VIII’s closest companions and her future son-in-law – and his first wife, Ann Browne. Katherine of Aragon and Maria were very close; in fact, by 1514 Ambassador Caroz de Villagarut, appointed by Katherine’s father, Ferdinand of Aragon, was complaining of Maria’s influence over the queen. He accused Maria of conspiring with her kinsman, Juan Adursa – a merchant in Flanders with hopes of becoming treasurer to Philip, prince of Castile –  to persuade Katherine not to cooperate with the ambassador. The ambassador complained: ‘The few Spaniards who are still  in her household prefer to be friends of the English, and neglect their duties as subjects of the King of Spain. The worst influence on the queen is exercised by Dona Maria de Salinas, whom she loves more than any other mortal.’¹

Maria was naturalised on 29th May, 1516, and just a week later, on 5th June she married the largest landowner in Lincolnshire, William Willoughby, 11th Baron Willoughby de Eresby. William Willoughby was the son of Sir Christopher Willoughby, who had died c.1498, and Margaret, or Marjery, Jenney of Knodishall in Suffolk. He had been married previously, to Mary Hussey, daughter of Sir William Hussey, Chief Justice of the King’s Bench. The King and Queen paid for the wedding, which took place at Greenwich, the Queen even provided Maria with a dowry of 1100 marks. They were given Grimsthorpe Castle, and other Lincolnshire manors which had formerly belonged to Francis Lovel (friend of Richard III), as a wedding gift. Henry VIII even named one of his new ships the Mary Willoughby in Maria’s honour.

Maria remained at court for some years after her wedding, and attended Katherine at the Field of Cloth of Gold in 1520. Henry VIII was godfather to Maria and William’s oldest son, Henry, who died in infancy. Another son, Francis, also died young and their daughter Katherine, born in 1519, would be the only surviving child of the marriage. Lord Willoughby died in 1526, and for several years afterwards Maria was embroiled in a legal dispute with her brother-in-law, Sir Christopher Willoughby, over the inheritance of the Willoughby lands. Sir Christopher claimed that William had settled some lands on Maria which were entailed to Sir Christopher. The dispute went to the Star Chamber and caused Sir Thomas More, the king’s chancellor and a prominent lawyer, to make an initial redistribution of some of the disputed lands.

This must have been a hard fight for the newly widowed Maria, and the dispute threatened the stability of Lincolnshire itself, given the extensive lands involved. However, Maria attracted a powerful ally in Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk and brother-in-law of the King, who called on the assistance of Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, Henry’s first minister at the time, in the hope of resolving the situation. Suffolk had managed to obtain the wardship of Katherine Willoughby in 1528, intending her to marry his eldest son and heir Henry, Earl of Lincoln, and so had a vested interest in a favourable settlement for Maria. This interest became even greater following the death of Mary Tudor, Suffolk’s wife, in September 1533, when only three months later the fifty-year-old Duke of Suffolk married fourteen-year-old Katherine, himself.

Although Suffolk pursued the legal case with more vigour after the wedding, a final settlement was not reached until the reign of Elizabeth I. Suffolk eventually became the greatest landowner in Lincolnshire and, despite the age difference, the marriage does appear to have been successful. Katherine served at court, in the household of Henry VIII’s sixth and last queen, Katherine Parr. She was widowed in 1545 and lost her two sons – and heirs – by the Duke, Henry and Charles, to the sweating sickness, within hours of each other in 1551. Katherine was a stalwart of the Protestant learning and even invited Hugh Latimer to preach at Grimsthorpe Castle. It was she and Sir William Cecil who persuaded Katherine Parr to publish her book, The Lamentacion of a Sinner in 1547, demonstrating her continuing links with the court despite her first husband’s death. Following the death of her sons by Suffolk, Katherine no longer had a financial interest in the Suffolk estates, and in order to safeguard her Willoughby estates, Katherine married her gentleman usher, Richard Bertie.

The couple had a difficult time navigating the religious tensions of the age and even went into exile on the Continent during the reign of the Catholic Queen, Mary I, only returning on Elizabeth’s accession. Katherine resumed her position in Tudor society; her relations with the court, however, were strained by her tendency towards Puritan learning. The records of Katherine’s Lincolnshire household show that she employed Miles Coverdale – a prominent critic of the Elizabethan church – as tutor to her two children by Bertie, Susan and Peregrine. Unfortunately, Katherine died after a long illness, on 19th September 1580 and was buried in her native Lincolnshire, in Spilsby Church.

A widow since 1526, Maria de Salinas, Lady Willoughby, kept a tight rein on the Willoughby lands,proving to be an efficient landlady. Unfortunately, the fact she took advantage of the dissolution of the monasteries in order to lease monastic land; a business arrangement, rather than political or religious, but it still made her a target of discontent during the Lincolnshire Rising.

Maria had remained as a Lady-in-Waiting to Katherine. She was known to dislike Anne Boleyn and, as Henry’s attitude towards Katherine hardened during his attempts to divorce her, in 1532 Maria was ordered to leave Katehrine’s household and not contact her again. By 1534, as Emperor Charles V’s ambassador, Chapuys, described it; Katherine was ‘more a prisoner than before, for not only is she deprived of her goods, but even a Spanish lady who has remained with her all her life, and has served her at her own expense, is forbidden to see her.’²

When Katherine was reported to be dying at Kimbolton Castle, in December 1535, Maria applied for a license to visit her ailing mistress. She wrote to  Sir Thomas Cromwell, the King’s chief minister at the time, saying ‘for I heard that my mistress is very sore sick again. I pray you remember me, for you promised to labour with the king to get me licence to go to her before God send for her, as there is no  other likelihood.’² Permission was refused, but despite this setback, Maria set out from London to visit Katherine at Kimbolton Castle, arriving on the evening of New Years’ Day, 1536 and contrived to get herself admitted by Sir Edmund Bedingfield by claiming a fall from her horse meant she could travel no further. According to Sarah Morris and Nathalie Grueninger, Katherine and Maria spent hours talking in their native Castilian; the former queen died in Maria’s arms on 7th January 1536.³ Katherine of Aragon was buried in Peterborough Cathedral on 29th January, with Maria and her daughter, Katherine, in attendance.

Maria herself died in May 1539, keeping control of her estates to the very last. She signed a copy of the court roll around 7th May, but was dead by the 20th, when Suffolk was negotiating for livery of her lands. Her extensive Lincolnshire estates, including Grimsthorpe and Eresby, passed to her only surviving child, Katherine and her husband, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. Maria’s burial-place is unknown, though there is a legend that she was buried in Peterborough Cathedral, close to her beloved Queen Katherine.”

[pandawritesmanythings]

(A Medieval!AU Loki x Stark!Reader Story)

Chapter Summary: Asgard is truly a beautiful kingdom, you only wish your thoughts and feelings would let you enjoy it.

Word Count: 1836

Warnings: None, I think!

Masterlist

A/N: Your support and kind comments in the last part has left me- I just 😭💕 Thank you so much for the support you guys!

-

It was nearly midnight when the salty air filled your senses and you woke up to look out the window to see a full bright moon and the sea not too far from the road. The castle was up ahead, but it was still at about an hour's distance.

"Vis!" You called your driver. "Stop the carriage!"

He did so almost immediately and he and Steve Rogers, the captain in charge of your security came to check up on you.

"Is everything alright your highness?" Steve asked as you got off the carriage.

"It is, captain. I just wish to see the sea. It's all."

You began to cross the road to follow a trail into the beach but Steve caught up you. You did not stop for him though.

"Please, don't do this. I'll get in trouble." He pleaded, your name pouring from his lips.

You stopped to look at him.

You had seen this good man take down the fiercest of men. He had the most special place in your heart, but you never were to tell him. Even if you'd ever planned to do that, confessing that was not something you could afford to do any longer.

"In trouble with who?" You smirked and continued walking towards the shore.

"At least let me escort you!" He called after you.

"You may!" You answered back, still not stopping.

The night was peaceful and quiet. There was no-one here for miles, and the sand felt fresh under your feet, once you took your shoes off. You approached the waves that licked at the sand and lifting your dress so it wouldn't get ruined, you allowed the water to gnaw at your feet.

You felt as the wave retreated, how it slightly sucked you into the sand. Each lick sinking you a little deeper until you were up to your ankles with sand.

You giggled at the small gig of nature but blushed as you felt someone bunch up your skirts behind you.

"Princess, your dress is going to get ruined." Steve admonished holding the back of your dress far from the sand and water as you held the front.

"I have a thousand more. You don't have to accommodate me, captain."

You knew he meant no ill intent by his actions, but it still made you blush when he got so close to you. You blessed the cover of the night which allowed you to get away with your embarrassment.

"May I ask, why? Your highness?" He asked as you stared into the horizon.

You took a moment to think about why you just had the urge to stop for a moment and enjoy this wonder of nature.

The answer wasn't a difficult one, it was just a painful one, and to share it with Steve of all people wasn't something you were exactly ready to do.

"I just... Needed a last moment."

"If I may be so bold... "A last moment" to do what?"

He was honest to god worried about you. You looked at him, seeing the young boy you had grown with. A twink of a guy turned into one of the kingdom's most trustworthy and capable soldiers. His kindness had captured your heart when you were young, and his bravery had only fed your endearment for him as time went on.

You knew you could trust him.

"A last moment to enjoy my freedom, Steve."

He whispered your name, and suddenly you noticed how close the two on you had become. You were sure at this point he saw your blush, but you didn't care. He was so near you, you could feel him holding the fabric of your dress to avoid it getting wet. His firm chest almost pressed against yours. His lips just inches away.

But just as you thought anything could happen, the voice of his right-hand man was heard from afar, calling that soldiers of Asgard were approaching.

He offered you his arm and you wiggled your buried feet out of the sand. You both rushed towards the carriage where Bucky and Wanda were waiting.

"It must be at least 15 men." He informed Steve as Wanda poured water at your feet to help you clean them.

"Are you sure they are soldiers?"

"Vis sighted the royal crest, but they might as well be bandits posing as soldiers," Bucky warned.

"Captain. No violent action towards the men, ask for their business, and then proceed accordingly." You instructed him as you stepped into the carriage, Wanda in tow.

"As you say, your highness."

Both soldiers walked ahead of the carriage, and they signaled Vis to go at a slow pace.

"So they are soldiers?"

"Not sure about that," Bucky answered.

"Better be on our guards then."

"You were on your guard with the princess back there weren't you," Bucky smirked.

That sent Steve into a sputtering panic. "What are you talking about!?"

"Come on pal. You've been in love with the princess since before any of us joined the military!"

"We were children together. I am in charge of her security I care about her! But not like that!" Steve tried to excuse himself.

"If I hadn't called you, would you have kissed her?" Bucky questioned, he knew that you had chosen only people who you truly trusted to accompany you in this trip, which meant no-one was gonna tattletale on you. But he still wondered.

"No." Steve spat. "And even if I did, she has her duty and I have mine. That won't allow us to ever be anything. You know that, right?"

Bucky hummed in reluctant understanding. The men in horseback where closer now, this chat would have to be postponed, but he wanted to support his friend.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I think she feels the same way."

Steve was going to continue, but the horsemen approached their caravan.

"Who comes!?" The man leading the horsemen shouted at the two men.

"Travelers my good men. We've come looking for an audience with the king." Steve responded, the answer vague enough so if they were robbers, they had better chances of being ignored or stall them.

"Is the eagle faring well?" The leading man asked Steve.

"Only if the wolf remains their friend." Your voice came from the open door of the carriage.

Steve just wanted to tackle your stupid self back into security but after you gave him a sign, he stepped aside and allowed you to approach the horseman who led the troop.

"Prince Thor, it is my pleasure to be in your land." You bowed before the man.

He took the hood off his head, and in fact, it was the blonde prince who had come to greet you and escort your caravan into the palace. He got off his horse and with a hand to your shoulder kindly ushered you to stand up.

"Princess. It is good to see you!" His smile was bright and his eyes were kind. "Welcome to Asgard! Please, come! We are to securely take you back to the palace!"

He led you back into your carriage and you finally arrived at the palace, way past the witching hour.

The streets were mostly empty, but you could still hear the music coming from some open bars.

Thor was riding next to your window and chatting with you.

"So I take that your people like their drinks?"

He chuckled. "It would be strange to see Asgard completely silent at any given time!"

"Well, it must be a relief for you that you don't ever have to worry about a place to enjoy yourself."

"Oh, I assure you m'lady. We have plenty of places to entertain ourselves. You must see them sometime during your visit!"

"It would be my honor." You politely answered.

To be completely honest, it was different from your home. Besides the salty air, it seemed that the town was alive. While back on Midgard, the curfew didn't allow anyone to be on the streets past midnight.

It was a necessary measure that you understood and supported, but you wished that your people could be as carefree as the Asgardians that you saw dancing and drinking.

You hoped that this alliance took you a step closer in that direction.

The palace doors opened for you without hesitation. And Thor offered his arm to lead you inside the castle. Politely, you accepted and allowed him to lead you inside, Steve and Bucky hot on your trail and Wanda right behind them.

"We have prepared everything for your arrival! Tomorrow, Asgard will celebrate you and your people. There will be a feast in your honor just for you!"

You smiled at him. "My, you Asgardians know how to flatter your guests..."

"It would be a dishonor if we didn't do as much as we possibly can to make this visit a happy one!"

At the top of the stairs, you saw a very refined lady, who you presumed was Frigga, the queen, and a couple of maids.

"My child. Welcome to Asgard." The queen greeted you and you bowed to her.

"Your majesty, thank you for giving me and my people your hospitality."

"Nonsense my dear, your father was a delight when we met him. It was only natural that we opened our arms to such a charming and capable man and his children."

"But please do not let my father hear you, majesty. It will go straight to his head." You chuckled.

The queen smiled at you, which you interpreted that she, at least, tolerated you. Which fair, you would take what you could.

"We will proportion you maids to take you to your quarters." The queen signaled to the girls standing behind her.

"Oh, that won't be necessary, my queen. Wanda is my assistant, I won't be needing a maid." Wanda stood behind you and curtsied the queen.

"Oh, my dear please allow us. It would be a big dishonor for us if you wouldn't let us accommodate you in every way we can!" She insisted.

Oh, how you wanted to say no. But feuds have started for way less between the tribes of Vanaheim.

"Alright, if it will make you happy, I'll accept." You nodded and the queen seemed satisfied.

"This is Sigyn. She'll take care of you and help your assistant in anything she needs." The young woman was your age if not a year or two off. She wore her blonde hair on a braid and she had a far off look on her face. "Sigyn, please lead the ladies to their quarters."

"Yes, your majesty." She bowed and then signaled you to follow her.

But before you left you offered your thanks once more to the queen.

"Do not thank us, dear. It will be a true pleasure for all of us to host you here."

You followed Sigyn through the many halls and corridors, shooting one last look at Steve before he was completely out of sight for you.

TAG LIST (OPEN)

[sugarfreecapsicle]

binding

royal!au bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1800+

A/N: I’m rusty, but I hope this is something you can enjoy! I had originally planned for this to be much longer (including smut) but I got bored of the detail I’d put in and didn’t want a reader to tire of it. Feedback is always appreciated - please forgive small errors as I use google docs and it doesn’t quite catch everything. Big thanks to @moonstruckbucky & @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan for beta-ing the very rough draft!

Within the hour, you’d become a wife, and the week, a queen.

None of your previous years of schooling and training prepared you for this. The dressmaker interrupts her last minute stitching and hemming with a hand on your leg to steady your balance. As a young girl, imagining this occasion comprised of so much more than political arrangements. Love, adoration, joy. Instead, you are shuffled from one room, one person to another, and the world blurs.

No one outside the castle, not even the court, had seen your betrothed since the war - many spread rumors that he’d already died and the king couldn’t bear the thought of losing his country, that the young soldier and prince had run away to a neighboring land out of fear while defending his own people. 

A duty to your family keeps you planted, flexible only to instruction from your new assistants. Your sister, young and frail, would be on the market as a working girl. Your mother would be devastated - her hard work in the quiet night voided should anyone of power discover her educating the poorer children. Father...well, he’s the mastermind of your marriage. Debts forgiven, as it were. But at what benefit to the throne?

Wavering at the thought, the dressmaker supports your legs with some poorly hidden irritation. You were the only woman of title who could bear children for miles, and with tensions remaining in the aftermath of war the king found no solace in the potential of his neighbors.

There’s no time to waste once your dress is done. You’re escorted to the door of the hall where music bellowed off the walls and murmurings of court carried over the banisters. Your father says nothing but threads your arm with his, a hand over your clammy one. 

A maid enters from a small door across the foyer, and by order of the dressmaker fusses over every detail one last time. The words leave you before you think better of it. “Is he kind?”

She blushes. “Immensely, Your Highness.”

The music begins to swell, large oak doors creak open, and the room stands. Your heart pounds with every step nearer, the knot in your throat bobbing and scratching. Could you sound smooth, deliberate in promising your vows? Could he be full of dread?

The prince, your betrothed, stands poised - the perfect soldier. Broad shoulders, dark velvet blue accentuates the chocolate brown hair pulled together neatly at his neck. A prominent dark metal hand inlaid with gold clutches one of flesh behind his back. The exchange of your hand between your father and prince moves slow, deliberate. The new sensation of cool metal pricks against your clammy hand, and a silent prayer asks that the hardness in his slate blue eyes is a result of ceremony rather than the prospect of marrying you specifically.

The priests words run together in baritone, the vows hardly more than white noise behind the pounding of blood in your ears. Something  in your chest stretches tightly. Vision darkens at the edges. Breaths shallow.

And then, the prince’s voice reverberates through your touch.

“I swear upon my life and my kingdom.”

You’re next to swear your vows before the gods and the court, and sweat begins to bead on your hairline at the priest’s silence.

“I swear upon my life and my kingdom.”

Rings are exchanged, (could his hands be trembling the same as yours?) your arms link, and you turn as one, the room bowing deeply followed by cheering applause. You’re both escorted onto a carriage and paraded, waving, tossing candied fruits to those around the streets.

Once paraded, you return to the castle and the pair of you are directed to a set of bedchambers, men standing guard outside. Part of you wants to believe in a higher power when there are no guards or attendees inside to...observe.

He’s staring, eyes roaming over your finery in some kind of assessment. Jaw still clenched, eyes cold. 

“If you disapprove-“

“I don’t.” Short. Effective. “You’ll make a fine queen for my people.”

Not at all a romantic.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

He bows and doesn’t give a reason for his dismissal from the room. A sob crowds the knot still trapped in your throat. The rest of your days would be spent trying to tolerate a frigid man with no love for you while trying to do what’s best for the people. 

Weeks pass with no affection. James, your new husband, is busy with matters elsewhere that keep him occupied. Not that you have too much time of your own to notice - your new role commands attention to multiple details across the grounds, interior, even some event coordinating. Most nights it’s all you can to do fall into bed and snore before your head hits the pillow. Your husband rarely finds bed before you and is always out of bed before you wake.

Some of the maids and help around the grounds provide a little solace, most with stories of his quiet action to their aid. James - reserved, a man of action, subtle, caring, kind. Give him time, they’d said. He has his reasons.

Once ready for the day, you smooth your skirts and expect to plan the first of many holiday celebrations but your train of thought is stopped. James stands nervously at your door and smiles. 

“Good morning.”

The smile broadens. “Good morning. Would you...walk with me? If you have the time.” James offers his arm and without breaking eye contact, you accept.

A sharp breeze dances in the sunset leaves, and the day new enough to glimmer of morning dew on the shrubbery. Orchids in bloom fill the air with pleasant sweetness. The two of you have hardly spoken as you walk together, guards’ eyes following.

“The gardens are beautiful.” It’s a start, you suppose. He’s trying.

“Thank you.” You grin over at one of the fountains collecting fall leaves in a pool of water. “Shall we sit? I need the sun more than I thought.”

A true gentleman, he waits for you to arrange your skirts and move to sit before taking his place next to you by the fountain. Somewhere in the trees birds chirp and sing, chattering along.

“My mother always loved the birds,” James murmurs with eyes darting in the treeline. “She insists on the feeders hidden throughout.”

“I’m sure you gave your mother some reason to hide them,” you smirk, tucking an errant waft of hair behind his ear. His cheeks flush, even his ears turn a shade of red. 

“Plenty of reason. And often.”

You breathe out a laugh and notice a page rushing over with a sealed letter in hand. So much for an easy morning.

Although you can’t get the thought of his smile, the way he grins more on the left side of his mouth than the right, out of your head all day. Plenty of your advisers noticed your distraction but said nothing. Finally, just before dinner, you settled back into your own right mind: You won’t bed him without love. You’d rather claim a mistress’ child as your own than compromise yourself. According to other ladies of the court, it happens all the time.

A visit to a nearby village is announced at dinner, and James’ parents decide the opportunity for the two of you to make an appearance as the future rulers of the country. Notorious for his solitude, you fully anticipated an excuse of important meetings from James - but once again, he surprises you with an agreement.

The scheduled visits happen semiannually, and traveling to the further reaches necessitates a week or more. By the third day, you’re not sure how you’ll remember all the names of lords, ladies and other important members of the court. Sunset warms you through the window of the carriage, rolling green hills and farmland passes by. Your accompaniment including your husband keeps quiet - the adviser sleeping, your husband keeping a watchful eye on the countryside. 

His head lifts from his hand, the dark metallic one reaching at his hip for his blade. Blue eyes meet yours in an instant.

“Stay here. Don’t leave this carriage no matter what you hear. Do you understand?” 

You nod once and remember the knife you’d stashed in a garter beneath your skirts. The noise of battle cries and swords clashing interrupts the rhythmic clip of horse hooves and wooden wheels. An ambush - assassins, spies from Hydra coming for you, or the future king, or both. 

A blink, and he’s out of the carriage with a slam of the small door. The chaos of yelling and metal on metal has you scrambling for the knife, shaking hands grasping the opalescent handle. 

James grunts, shrill iron against his arm sparking with anger, and shoves the assailant backward. Thuds of fists landing punches, knives ripping fabric all overwhelm your senses. Coppery blood even scents the air around you.

As quickly as the fight began, all became silent once again aside from crunching pieces of road and rock beneath heavy boots. A set ends just outside the carriage door - your adviser cowering in the floor.

“Princess?” James pants and knocks three times. “If I open the door, you swear not to impale me?”

“Only if you speak for yourself and not in surrender.”

Hesitantly, the small door opens, and James peers and you with a tired smile. “To you only, I would surrender.”

Once the men are settled and wounds triaged, you’re able to inspect the prince. James is scratched and bruised, a bit bloody and finery torn. Without thinking, your hands are wiping at his busted lip with a handkerchief and worry twists your expression. Most of his lip is clean when you notice a tenderness you hadn’t seen before - something in the way his eyes settle on you, in the set of his mouth, the way his flesh hand lets his fingers brush your free hand.

“I know I can’t stop you from it, but I wish you would consider the kingdom before rushing at murderers.”

“You are my kingdom,” he says a bit breathless. “If my wife commands it, I will make it so.”

His hand doesn’t leave yours the remainder of the ride home. 

That night, you’re twisting a thread on your nightgown wondering if perhaps there was more to your prince than your first impression. Meetings and duties keep him away from you for most of the day, and over dinner you catch up on what you’re not involved in directly. He keeps certain things from you - direct threats, certain uglier parts of his duty as heir to the throne. 

It’s in the quiet of night, few candles crackling, when you ask the tired man next to you, “Do you love me?”

He turns from his back onto his side and holds your cheek, “I would lay down my life for you and everyone in this country without hesitation. Do not think for one moment that I don’t love you as a king. And as your husband.”

You haven’t kissed since the wedding but his lips on yours work gently to ask permission and light kindling in your chest. He pulls away too soon for your liking, unadulterated want dancing behind the glittering yellow flame over blue. 

“My kingdom, my home, my land benefits from your thoughtful consideration. You refuse to demand more than what our staff can provide, and you have a kindness I’ve never seen from title. I cannot find nor will I look for any reason not to love you.”