#royalty!au prompts

[scealaiscoite]

head of state x captain of their personal guard prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🕊️ ꒱

¹⁾ “must you always make my job so very difficult, your highness?”¹ “someone with your prowess must be challenged, captain. how else will i see to it that i made the right choice in selecting you for the job?”²

²⁾ “*name*, i’m begging you. if you won’t listen to me as your guard, then listen to me as someone who loves you - please let me get you to safety before it’s too late.”

³⁾ “what were you playing at, looking at me like that from across the court?!”

“since when do you feel permitted to give your opinion on matters of the crown?!”¹ “since i fell in love with the person wearing it.”²

⁴⁾ “when i told you to forget our titles during our sparring lessons, i didn’t think you’d actually follow through.”

⁵⁾ “i’m beginning to think you’ve only taken to spending so much time in the throne room to show off for me.”

⁶⁾ “i’ve dreamt of making you my consort more than i’d like to admit.”

⁷⁾ “so not only have you been ‘entertaining’ marriage prospects, but you didn’t even deem fit to tell me about it yourself? am i not even worth that to you?”

⁸⁾ “if the lords/ladies-in-waiting spy you leaving my quarters in the morning again, i fear we’ll be fielding more question than we can answer.”

⁹⁾ “you know how direly i hate these balls, my love.”¹ “yes, i do. but i also know how very much you love me, so i’m hoping one will cancel the other out.”²

¹⁰⁾ “you do remember that i’m supposed to be the one protecting you, yes?”

[promptsforthestrugglingauthor]

Writing Prompt #2981

"What do you plan to stand on?"

"Um. My feet?"

"Your policies, my lord. The people have demanded an election, which means you don't simply inherit the job anymore."

"Well that just doesn't seem fair!"

[blackfoy]

The King's Soulmate

Jayce is royalty, or close enough to it. Viktor is a prisoner from the neighboring kingdom of Zaun. Several Zaunites are brought before them, intended to be slaves to the highest in Piltover. The slavemaster doesn’t think Viktor is all that important, and with his disability, is prepared to kill him once he is not chosen. Much to everyone's surprise, Jayce chooses Viktor and will hear no other argument. He has visions of other worlds due to him messing with the Arcane, so he knows that this man will be the most important man in his life. Viktor has no clue why the King of Piltover calls him Perfect, and he is both flattered and terrified.

Nobody from Piltover knows that Viktor and Violet are the eldest Prince and Princess of Zaun. Zaun royalty does not dress like royalty, so they were assumed to be just another couple of citizens. Tensions rise even further between the two countries, war on the horizon, and Piltover doesn't even know what they've done. Zaun has no proof that they are the ones who took their Prince and Princess, so things build slowly over time. Viktor and Violet assume that Jayce and Caitlyn know what they have done, the statement they are making by keeping them.

Viktor finds out how oblivious Jayce is when Jinx/Powder breaks in to rescue them and kill their captors. Viktor is in the middle of trying to convince the youngest Princess not to assassinate the King of Piltover when Jayce wakes up, sees the armed intruded fighting with Viktor, and immediately puts himself between them, shielding Viktor with his body. This makes the younger girl very confused since she had been expecting a gaudy and snooty man who didn't care for their lives. Viktor manages to talk them both down, and their conversation leads him to figure out how little Jayce knows. Jayce finds out that the assassin was there to rescue the slaves, and while he's actually a little relieved and will make no move to stop her, he really doesn't want Viktor to leave, and makes this clear in his body language and hesitant words. In the end, Viktor stays while Jinx/Powder goes to find the other slaves and bring news back to the Kings of Zaun.

In the end, after some sneaking around of Vi and Viktor's parts, Zaun proposes a peace treaty to Piltover. It is a bunch of normal politics stuff, along with a double-arranged marriage. The King and the Head Guard of Piltover would marry the eldest Prince and Princess of Zaun. Both Jayce and Caitlyn protest, both wishing to be with their partners, but in the end they agree to the terms.

Part of the treaty was also to free all Zaunite slaves, and while Vi and Viktor had been practically free already, this just made it official. They hadn't been expecting the two to actually leave, and both become even more stressed without them. But then the wedding day comes, and the Zaunite royalty arrives, and everyone puts everything together. The main characters are overjoyed and in shock, and they all get married and one day unite the kingdoms through their adopted children.

(Currently working on a fic for this au. I have no clue when or if it will get posted, or how long it will be. Once it is posted I will link it here. Wish me luck!)

[jestroer]

Day two of @mcyt-yuri-week - Royalty/Knight! :D

Forbidenn romance between a fairy Queen and her Knight..... or something

[irondadmadlads]

Irondad Prompt #218:

Universe RAU:

(InsertBlogNameHere): Has anyone else noticed the kid King Stark is always with?? I swear he just appeared like a month ago. I thought the boy was his servant at first but Stark seems to prioritize the kid over everything. Does the king have a secret son?? Is this kid actually the prince?? I’m not crazy, right?

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #47

When Jason had left his father's kingdom for another's, he wasn't expecting to be noticed. In fact, that was the point. Gotham thought him dead, it was better that way. Let them mourn him.

Realms of Infinite was a large place Jason could hide in. Where no one would notice him. Unfortunately, just because he stopped being a prince didn't mean he stopped impulsively helping people.

But hey, what was he supposed to do? Let this random man be stabbed in the middle of the square? He didn't know he was the king! He also wasn't expecting to be knighted for his deed.

As long as he can avoid gaining too much attention he'd be fine. Falling in love with the king is not a good way to further avoid attention.

[terriblesoup]

A matter of duty and longing

A/N: I wrote this princess/knight au ramble and I feel like it suits Caleb from lads more than sylus actually.

nameless characters, 929 words, sfw

It was unwise to look too long. And yet, in moments when care slipped through the cracks of propriety, their eyes would meet.

Such instances were fleeting, shadows of what could never be spoken, echoes of what ought never to be acknowledged. A knight must be steadfast, unyielding as the steel he bore. A princess must be composed, dutiful as the crown upon her brow. They were creatures of expectation, bound to the rigid dictates of duty. And yet…

There were moments.

Moments when fingertips hovered close but did not touch, when the warmth of presence alone was enough to send the heart into a quiet riot. When, in the hush of corridors and the secrecy of moonlit halls, a sigh was held too long, and a glance lingered a moment past innocence.

She knew, as he did, that indulgence in such fancies was folly. And yet, how cruel it was that the heart refused the wisdom the mind so keenly upheld.

He had been at her side for years now, a silent guardian in every hall, at every courtly gathering, standing behind her as she spoke in council, walking three steps behind as she drifted through the gardens. And always, without fail, she felt his presence, solid, unshaken, a force as much as a man. He never faltered in his duties, never overstepped the lines drawn in the sand, but there was something in the way his gaze softened when she laughed, in the way his hands, strong and calloused from years of wielding a sword, always gentled when helping her into a saddle.

She had spent years pretending it was nothing.

It was easy at first, when the world was still simple. When she was still young enough that her duties felt like a distant thing, when he was merely a knight, sworn to protect. But years had passed, and she had grown into the weight of her position. And he had become something else, not just a protector, but a presence she sought without meaning to, a voice she trusted above all others.

It had been easier when she was foolish enough to believe that she could pretend forever.

But there were moments when the illusion cracked.

Like the evening in the grand hall, when a foreign dignitary had reached for her hand without permission. The knight had moved before she could even react, his gloved fingers curling around the nobleman’s wrist, firm and unyielding. A warning more than an act of aggression. The room had gone silent, all eyes on them. She had expected him to speak, but he had not. He had merely held the noble’s gaze for a moment longer than was necessary before releasing him, before stepping back into the shadows as if he had never acted at all. But when she had glanced at him, just once, she had seen the fire in his eyes, the way his jaw had tensed, the way his fingers had curled into fists at his sides.

And later, when the halls were empty, when the festivities had dwindled into quiet, she had found him standing alone on the balcony, the night air curling around him like a specter. She had hesitated before stepping forward, before allowing herself to be foolish, if only for a moment.

"You should not have done that," she had said softly.

He had not turned to her. "I would do it again."

And she had not known what to say to that.

It was in the way their hands almost met when he guided her through crowded spaces, in the way his voice softened when it was only the two of them, in the way he would look away too quickly, as if afraid to be caught staring. It was in the way she felt a strange, quiet devastation when he stepped aside at the end of the night, when he left her in the safety of her chambers, when she closed the door between them and wished, for just a moment, that she could be someone else.

But it was forbidden.

Not by law, nor by any written decree, but by duty.

She was to be wed one day to secure alliances, to strengthen the kingdom. And he, well he was to stand beside her, not as an equal, but as a shadow. To watch over, to protect, never to claim.

It was a cruel thing, to know that a heart could yearn and yet be unable to act upon it.

And yet, sometimes, she could not help but wonder.

If he ever thought of her when she was not looking. If he ever wished, in the quiet moments before sleep, that the world was different. If he ever felt the weight of all the things they would never say.

But she could not ask. Because some questions were never meant to be spoken aloud.

And yet, one evening, when the palace gardens were empty and the world felt softer beneath the glow of lantern light, she allowed herself to reach for him. Just once. Her fingers brushed his, and instead of pulling away, he let them stay.

No words were spoken, but something in the way his fingers curled gently around hers, and in the way he exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for years, told her all she needed to know.

They could not change their places in the world. But in the spaces between duty and silence, they had found something precious.

And for now, that was enough.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[snippet-z]

Reposting this here to have it in one place. I also corrected (most of) the spelling errors if you even care

***

Prompt: Royalty/Nobility AU

"You shouldn't be here," is what greets him when he comes to a measured halt in front of the iron bars. The sentiment remains incorporeal in the darkness of the cell, the moonless, cloudy night providing not a glimpse of light by sheer luck, or maybe divine intervention.

"Neither should you," he replies to the void, pulling the lockpicks from his pocket. Drugging the guards was easy enough, the old useless drunkards would down anything that smelled of alcohol, but stealing the keys felt a little too much like tempting fate; and he didn't need them anyway.

A scoff acompanies him as he touches at the bars, trying to feel for the lock. "It'll cost me my head if you get caught, you know," the voice sing-songs playfully, and it is so achingly familiar that for a mere moment, he feels like he might break down and cry.

"Your head is at risk either way if this doesn't work, so kindly shut up," he admonishes, but he cannot control how choked he sounds, the ball of dread in his throat swelling and suffocating him more and more with every passing second. He finally finds the lock.

A hand catches his before he can insert the lockpicks into the keyhole, moulding around his palm perfectly, as if the two of them were a matching set. "Edwin," the voice pleas, and that's more than enough to shatter the makeshift dam which was holding his tears at bay up to this point. He contemplates not looking up, but then again, this already feels too much like talking to a ghost -- and he doesn't want to think how close to the reality it is. So he looks up.

He cannot make out more than the silhouette in the darkness, a thin, razor-cut shape in the curtain of night, but he doesn't need light to be able to place all the missing features in right places - the almond-shaped eyes, the slope of the nose, the slight indent of the Cupid's bow which's taste he knows better than that of his favourite wine. No, he doesn't need anything, not when he's able to map out Charles's face with his eyes closed.

"My father won't harm me with Henry still missing in battle, he wouldn't risk losing a possible substitute when the crown prince is absent." The salt running down his face tries to glue his lips shut, but he soldiers on in spite of it, knowing that Charles needs to hear him even when the words escape him like startled songbirds. "I can't watch you die," he finally breathes out, and just like magic, the hold on his palm gives, and he can work the lock open.

It clicks softly when the latches fall in place, and jumps open easily, as if made of butter. He doesn't waste time, pulling at cell door, making sure it doesn't make a sound as Charles slips out. He closes it back, and then purposely drops the lockpicks right by it. He can feel Charles's confused look on him, so he just shrugs, hoping the movement registers in the dark. "For plausible deniability," he explains, entwining their hands together as Charles's knuckles brush his, "One can always blame the guards for not inspecting you thoroughly enough."

Charles snorts softly at that, letting himself be dragged along through the winding staircases and corridors. "You know I would've found the way myself, right? I've been a servant in this castle all my life, I probably still know more secret passages than you," he says at some point, light-hearted, and the tone of his voice makes some of the weight fall off his shoulders. "I know," he confirms, "But I need to make sure you're out safe. For myself."

Instead of taking another step forward, he stumbles back when Charles stops abruptly, pulling him into himself, their lips crashing together before a single thought can cross his mind. He doesn't hesitate to reciprocate, revelling in the way he now has to climb slightly to his tiptoes to better angle himself against Charles. His free hand needs no command as it buries itself in Charles's hair, pressing them impossibly closer together.

He wishes for then and there, just for a moment, that the two of them didn't have to breathe anymore, forever inseparable, living off of each other; but alive lungs burn and demand attention, and he lets go, breathless and flustered, hot breathes mingling in the sudden space between them. "Let's go," he whispers, taking a step back before he can make one more stupid decision under the cover of the night.

The treck under the castle is easy enough, twisting and turning, but quick if you know the way. They climb through the broken sewage crate, something he knows he should let the king know about in case of danger; unfortunately, the crack in the castle's defense keeps proving itself useful.

Marigold neighs softly when she sees them, and he shushes her and pats her flank before untying the reins from the rickety shrub by the passage -- more of a statement than an actual way of holding her down. He passes them to Charles, and in the now dim-light he sees his eyes widen in surprise. "She always liked you better anyway, he says by means of explanation, and kisses his cheek - for good measure, and because he can't help himself.

Charles doesn't protest when he mounts Edwin's horse, throwing his long leg over the saddle with ease, and whispering a greeting into the mare's ear, in a language Edwin knows he knows from his mother. The horse shakes her mane in delight, clacking her teeth and pawing at the ground, ready to go as if she knows she's about to experience freedom the likes of which she never felt before. It seems ridiculous, but Edwin can't help but feel jealous.

He takes the reins by her head, leading them away towards the less-known path through the forest, all the while battling his thoughts on whether he should speak up.

"What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours," Charles asks before he can make up his mind, once again proving that he knows him better than Edwin knows himself. He stops the walk, bracing himself for what he's about to do. When he turns to Charles, his gaze feels both searching and strangely understanding, as if he already knows what's about to happen.

"I know this is a lot to ask of you," he begins hesitantly, forcing himself to maintain the eye contact, "But if you were to find Henry, send him home... If my father gets his Crown Prince back-" his breath hitches again, the teacherous tears silencing him. He's about to turn away in shame, but a hand on his shoulder stops him, and although he can barely see Charles's eyes, the love he feels in them burns brighter than a thousand suns.

"I'll find him," Charles says, and there's confidence in his voice that Edwin doesn't feel himself. "I'll find him, and get him here. And then we'll run."

And oh, isn't this exactly what Edwin wanted to say, what he hoped to hear. He leans against Marigold's side, and Charles bends down to kiss him one last time. It's softer, slower than in the tunnel, as sweet as honey and as bitter as buckwheat, and much to short for the time he knows they'll spend apart. But it cannot last, because the night is coming to an end much too soon. He takes a step away, and Charles takes off without a word, as if any farewells would curse them for the rest of their lives.

Edwin turns around after the horse and the rider disappear in the forest. He can hear the first birds waking up, and he knows he has to hurry if he wants to lay the false tray successfully. So he gets to work, and he tries not to grieve, all the while, against his best wishes, he can still taste the goodbye on his lips.

***

Original post

[guiltypleasureswriting]

The minister pointed his finger at Harry and he felt a flash of fear in his chest. “The poison in your wine could only have come from him, Your Majesty! Your consort is trying to kill you!” It wasn’t true, he hadn’t poisoned the wine. In fact, he was shocked to think, that he would rather drink the goblet full before Draco got a chance at a single drop. He just hoped Draco knew that. 

“No,” Draco said as he stood gracefully from his throne. The light from the torches on the wall flickered and reflected off his pale hair. The precious stones and silver thread woven into his doublet glittered and his deep green cape draped elegantly from his shoulders. He shone with power as he stepped forward to tower over the minister.  “If my husband wished to kill me he would look me in the eye and push a dagger into my chest.”

The minister staggered back at the conviction in his king’s voice but before he tripped, Draco grabbed him by the collar. “You dare accuse my consort, Haveron?” He whispered in a deadly voice. “You murmur lies into the ears of my people. You sow doubt.” The minister was shaking in the King’s grasp. “You have a wicked tongue but you have lost yourself in desperation.” Draco released him with a shove and wiped his hand on his doublet like simply touching the man would infect him. “I will have no more of it; you are to leave my kingdom at once.” 

Draco ordered the guards to escort the minister out and then strode away from his throne. As he passed Harry, he met his eyes but no expression crossed his face. Harry followed him into his chambers. Draco stood in front of the hearth while Harry took a seat on the plump green chair facing him. 

“You did not poison me.” Draco stated not looking away from the flames. 

“I did not.” Harry replied. 

“Why?” 

“As you said, sire, I would rather look you in the eye.” 

Draco hummed and turned to look at Harry. “So then, who put that poison in my cup?”

“I thought the minister did.”

Draco huffed and swept his cape as he settled into the chair next to Harry’s. He titled his head, cheek turned slightly into his shoulder and settled his gaze on Harry.

“No, Haveron does not have the fortitude to carry out such a task.” 

Harry grunted in disbelief and grumbled, “He had the fortitude to accuse me of treason in front of your court.” 

Draco smiled, “Do not worry, my dear. I never suspected you.”

“You expected me to commit such a crime until very recently.” Harry said pointedly.

Draco grimaced and sighed. “I am sorry we had such a turbulent start.” 

“Yes well, a turbulent start is to be expected when you are married off to your family's sworn enemy.”

Reaching out a hand, Draco brushed a bit of hair from Harry’s forehead and then lightly trailed his fingers down his cheek. He smiled softly and murmured, “We’re not enemies anymore, are we Harry?” 

Harry nudged his cheek into Draco’s open palm and smiled back. “No, we are not.” Draco’s fingers rested over Harry’s pulse point and Harry brushed a kiss on his palm before taking his hand from his cheek. Harry held his hand in one of his own with the palm facing upward. With his other hand, he traced his fingers over the lines in Draco’s hand. Then, once again, he bent his head and placed a purposeful kiss on Draco’s hand. 

“It is getting late.” Draco said softly. “Let us rest. We will worry about assasination attempts in the morning.” 

Harry nodded and stood with Draco, their hands still clasped together as he followed him into their bed. 

Wrapped in the warmth of the dying hearth and his lover’s arms, Harry felt he could relax and forget impending war and the attempts on his husband’s

life. Feeling safe, he drifted away to sleep. 

But the peace did not last long.

Harry was woken in the early hours of the morning by pounding on the door and a voice crying out, “My King! My King, you must wake up!” Draco groaned at the noise and tightened his grip on Harry. His bare arm was draped over Harry’s waist as they slept with their legs tangled together. 

“What is it?” Draco called out to the voice.

“An emergency, Your Highness! A rider returned with news of an army marching this way, only a day out.”

Draco jolted out of bed pulled on a nightshirt whispering, “Fuck, fuck.” to himself. Harry was barely given a chance to follow his husband’s example and cover himself before Draco was throwing open the wooden door to their chambers. The voice that had woken them belonged to a nervous looking courier. He wore a simple tunic and breeches and held a piece of parchment in his left hand and a torch in his right. “Whose army approaches?” 

The couriers tembled, “I do not know, sire. I was just told to wake you and deliver this.”  He held out the parchment for Draco to take which he did.

“Go find my advisors and Lady Pansy. Tell them to gather in the war room at once.” 

“Yes sire.” The courier skittered off. 

Draco took a deep breath and peered down at the note. Harry moved behind him quietly and placed a gentle hand on Draco’s shoulder. When he took a sudden sharp breath in through his teeth, Harry tightened his grip. “Who is it, Draco?” 

“It is Riddle’s army. But they are flying the Malfoy crest.” The air caught in Harry’s throat.

“What?” 

Draco turned and looked Harry in the eye. Harry still had one hand around Draco’s shoulder and with his free hand, he clasped Draco’s and squeezed. “It seems my father is returning for his throne.” 

It was common knowledge to the people of Slytherin that King Draco had not settled on the throne through simple inheritance. Although he was the heir, he became king while his father still lived. The story had spread quickly through the surrounding kingdoms, becoming legend in under a year. 

The Prince of Slytherin was always beloved. Although spoiled and stuck up, he was known to have a kind heart, even if he didn’t show it. He did not smile and he did not laugh, but when he was walking among the commoners, he gave children gifts of sweets and toys. Many times, when he came across a beggar, he sat with them and offered them a meal. He frequented taverns often, sitting in corners to avoid suspicion. He often struck up conversation with anyone interested to talk with him about the poor and suffering in the kingdom. He would hear the grievances of his people and promise them he would do what he could to convince the King to hear their case. 

The King of Slytherin was cruel. He hoarded wealth and ignored his people. He looked for power wherever he went and demonstrated it at every chance. He was not always a tyrant though. Before Draco was born, he was a decent ruler. Not particularly great, but he fed his people and kept up with concerns. When Queen Narcissa died in childbirth, the King was withdrawn. He handed his son off to nursemaids the moment Narcissa was gone and refused to take visitors for months. Until one day, he did take a visitor. This visitor promised the King riches and power and most of all revenge. He convinced the King it was the Kingdom of Gryffindor that caused the Queen’s death. It was a political plot by his most sworn enemies to undermine his reign once and for all. This manipulative visitor was named Tom Riddle. 

The Prince grew up knowing only love from Nursemaids and never his father. The King only treated the Prince with cold distance and discontent. He was only an heir. As the Prince grew he developed more and more hatred for his father. Draco loved his people. He wanted them to be happy and flourishing but his father did not treat the people with any respect. They were only peasants to be exploited. When the Prince came of age he found an old tome detailing an ancient Slytherin tradition. It said the only way to take the throne from the current ruler before their death was to challenge them to a duel and win. So the Prince challenged his father to a duel. It was very public, with the whole kingdom gathering to watch. And when Draco defeated his father and banished him from Slytherin along with Riddle, the people rejoiced. 

When Harry and Draco had made themselves decent and arrived in the war room, Draco’s advisors were gathered around the war map.

Other scenes:

The day Harry woke up a married man, it was cold. Very, very cold. He dressed in many layers and waited in his chambers until there came a knock at the door calling him to breakfast. When he arrived in the hall, the King was already sitting at his place at the head of the table. Harry stood awkwardly in the entryway for a moment wondering where he should sit. 

The King looked at him with a blank expression and then nodded to the chair on his right side. Harry tried for a smile that must not have looked right because the King’s features tightened for a moment before he simply looked away. After a few minutes waiting in tense silence, Harry’s aunt and uncle arrived with their son in tow. 

They entered noisily with Petunia’s shrill voice crying, “Good Morning, Your Majesty! I apologize for our lateness, we were held up by one of your servants.” Vernon’s angry griping that “If that boy knew his place we’d have no issue.”, and Dudley’s whining about how terribly hungry he was. 

Vernon sat at the end of the table opposing the King which must not have been custom because when he did so, the King tensed and glared. Petunia took her place at her husband's side and carried on saying, “Oh yes he was a horrid young man. You should look into how your servants are being treated, Your Majesty. It is clearly not with a firm enough hand.”  The King’s expression turned even harsher at the insult and opened his mouth to respond but he was interrupted.

“Mum! I’m starving, are they planning to feed us?” Dudley complained. 

“Oh Duddikins! Where is the food, sire? Surely your cooks know when to serve breakfast.” 

“They do.” The King responded, face pink with the effort of resisting his clear anger. “I’m afraid they were waiting until you arrived to serve us.” As the King said this, servants whisked in, placing plates of fruit, bread, and meat in front of them. Dudley immediately began stuffing his face making loud chewing noises. Harry saw the King make a face before becoming expressionless again. 

Starting on his breakfast, Harry simply let the annoying conversation wash over him. choosing not to participate. 

“You have so many lovely fruits, sire.” Petunia said brightly. Too bright.

The King replies, “Yes, my recent alliance with Hufflepuff has brought plentiful amounts of fruits to my kingdom.” 

“Oh yes.” Vernon said gruffly. “I heard you allied with those cowards.” 

The King gripped his knife. “Yes, I did ally with them. It has been very beneficial.”

--

“Why do you hide away in your own castle?”

“I like to have some things to myself, without my guards watching.”

“What kinds of things?” He sat beside Draco.

Draco gestured to the novel he was reading. “This. The romanticism and darkness.” Then he took Harry’s wrist and traced his veins. He looked up at Harry’s lips then brushed along the bottom lip. “And this.”

--

The smell from the gardens was strong from the rain permeating every crevice. Their hair was soaked and their clothes were bedraggled. When Draco laughed Harry thought it the most gorgeous thing he had ever heard. Like fresh rain after a drought. He slid one hand around Draco’s neck and pulled his body into Harry’s. They breathed together and smiled. Draco rested his forehead on Harry’s.

“Thank you.” Harry murmured and Draco smiled.

--

I wrote this almost 3 years ago now and forgot about it and it's 1 am and I have things to do in the morning, but I found it and was reading it and was like... damn okay. So I thought I'd post it here. It was inspired by this prompt from @writing-prompt-s:

The minister pointed his finger at the queen. “The poison in your wine could only have come from her, your majesty! The queen is trying to kill you!” “No,” said the king. “If my wife wished to kill me she would look me in the eye and push a dagger into my chest.”

I also think there were other royalty and arranged marriage AUs in my head when I wrote it so if there's any similarities that's on me. I also think I had been watching Lord of the Rings so there might be some of that in there. Hope you like it!

I wouldn't say I'm back but you might hear from me again sooner than later.

[songsofadelaide]

There was a travelling market selling foreign goods in your city. The little corner of festivity was brought along their prince's journey to this land.

Apart from your city's trade, the streets were bustling with activity from the travelling market too, so much so that the kingdom had to station local guards in the area to keep the peace and order. Upon hearing your family's maids' excited chatter about the place and all of the outlandish things for sale there, you couldn't help but want to go, too.

But a lady of a noble house should not be there. It was against your better judgement, but there must be some curiosities there that would sate your growing, thriving pursuit of knowledge— before your parents decide to give you away to some stranger from a strange land.

"My l— I mean, miss! Look over here, they have tomes that might be of interest to you!" One of your maids gently pulled you by the arm, causing you to bump into someone in the crowded street.

"Ah—"

The man with the piercingly haunting bright blue eyes turned in your direction, catching you before you could hit the ground.

Even dressed in a more subdued manner, someone with an eye for fine things will notice that you aren't like the ladies who accompanied you.

"Oh, my apologies, good sir, I—" Shoot. Your manner of speech—

"The way you carry yourself gives you away, my lady. What's a noble girl like you doing here?"

The man was dressed in Imperial garb, a lovely fur poncho over his fine clothing, his silver hair tousled by the pleasant breeze that swept through the busy streets. He was a foreigner, but strikingly handsome.

"Shouldn't you be preparing to meet the Imperial Prince Satoru?"

The tender smile that graced your face left so easily following that question. You scoffed at the stranger before allowing a small laugh to leave your lips. "I don't want to try so hard to please someone I've never met."

Oh, there you go again with your mouth. But oddly enough, the smile found its way to the handsome stranger's face. "Is that so? I suppose you'll have all the time in the world to get to know him..."

"Personally, I am more interested in whatever books this caravan brought along with it. If you aren't busy, good sir, might you accompany me and my, um, fellow ladies for the rest of our excursion? Surely you know the best places to purchase items..."

He chuckled, evidently amused by your sudden request. He tenderly took your gloved hand in his larger one and brought it to his lips. "Gladly, my lady."

The man patiently answered your every query. When you passed by a stall selling lovely miniatures of Imperial tourist spots and sceneries, you related to him how you had to pose for an uncomfortable amount of hours to have your own miniature portrait painted, only for it to be shipped off to the foreign Empire without a word of thanks from the Imperial family, or whoever received it. Not that you really cared.

He seemed to be so amused by your every quip judging by his gentle laughter. "I'm sure whoever received your portrait was truly pleased."

The man escorted you and your ladies back to your estate and bid you farewell, but not without a promise of meeting once more. How, you didn't know and did not bother thinking too much about it at all.

And when the day the eligible women of the kingdom were set to meet the Imperial Prince came, every other lady's graceful smile faded the moment he stepped down from the king's side and took your hands in his.

You were right about one thing. The moment your eyes met the silver-haired foreign prince's bright blue eyes.

You didn't have to try so hard at all.

[promptsforthestrugglingauthor]

Writing Prompt #2921

"You promised you'd love me!" The queen's glass shattered at her husband's feet.

"Turns out, I'm not capable of that."

"I gave up everything for you! Do you understand that?"

"You're free to do as you wish. Enjoy who and what you want, as long as you keep discreet. Consider us business partners, if you must."

[an-au-blog]

I am disgusted by how little shuggy content there is out there... so here's my drop in the ocean:

King/Emperor Shanks who is far too attached to his jester. Everyone sees it and it's so confusing because one second Shanks will be discussing war plans and looks like he's about to kill someone. And the next he's smiling like a kid in a candy store because the clown stumbled into the room because he was at the door, trying to eavesdrop. What's even odder - the king doesn't kill him for it, no jail, not even shooing him away. He makes him sit next to him (only because Buggy refused to sit in his lap) so he can hear them better. What's even more worrying is that he considers the jester's opinions on such matters.

The king had two addictions and only they could make him truly laugh and smile (other than his nephews). Alcohol, which he would be found consuming nearly all the time. And Buggy the jester. He didn't even have to be funny, he was just angrily shouting at the king most of the time and yet the king seemed to enjoy his company the most.

nsfw implantations under separation line:

Behind closed doors, when he isn't keeping his jester under him, the king is almost always on his knees. Buggy may be a jester in the court but in his king's sheets, he's no less than a queen.

Shanks has asked for his hand more than once but Buggy could never accept. Being the king's lover out in the open meant a life of fear. And how could he take the hand of a man who he can reduce to a dog, who do willingly proposed they run away together.

So Buggy felt like a hostage. Not because of power imbalance between a king and a jester. But one of a man ready to throw away his kingdom without hesitation for a jester who promised himself to never let that happen. Therefore Buggy kept him on his knees like a common whore. Wailing and hauling for him.

The anger at the king who made his duties Buggy's responsibilities kept on boiling.

[propertyofkylar]

princess kylar thigh worship fic?

worshiping the princess - f!kylar x gn!pc

word count: 1827

tags: royalty au, thigh worship, cunnilingus, dubcon, bit of yandere nonsense, i cannot help but tease kylar whenever i see her it's a disease

“Seize them.”

That was the first and last thing you had heard the princess say, and now you were jailed in her castle. You were sure you hadn’t been behind bars too long, but it was nearly impossible to tell. It didn’t help that you were entirely alone here, too. It seemed this princess didn’t frequently imprison anyone. So why you?

In your travels, you had become somewhat familiar with this kingdom. Princess Kylar was the ruler, and there were many rumors floating around about what had happened to the king and queen, most seeming very unlikely to be true. But you weren’t sure. Anything was possible. 

You were mulling this over when the princess herself approached the bars. At first, she said nothing, merely looked at you. You figured you may as well look back, and so you studied Kylar. 

She was a pretty young woman and very small. She wore a dark gown that looked old and tattered and her long hair was tied back with a bow that was equally tattered. The princess’s face was so close to yours that you could count every freckle on her nose. Her green eyes bore into yours and her long eyelashes fluttered with every blink. 

Eventually, she gave a simple nod. And then, surprisingly, she unlocked her cell. 

Before you could react, her small hand wrapped around your wrist. It was soft and clammy. Feeling bewildered, you looked at her again. Kylar huffed. 

“Would you rather be locked in there forever?” She said, starting to walk and tugging you along with her. 

“Um…no,” you said, rather lamely. To be honest, you weren’t sure what you had done to justify being locked up in the first place. But this princess seemed temperamental, so you figured you better not risk anything by speaking out of line. 

“That’s what I thought,” she muttered, and you got the feeling that despite her demeanor, this entire interaction was making her quite nervous.

You opted to stay quiet as she led you through the large castle, which was rather empty and everything seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dust. Aside from the odd servant here and there, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in here. 

Kylar took you into what you realized were her quarters. Having never been inside the bedroom of royalty before, you were taken aback by how messy and disorganized it was. You had always pictured a princess’s bedroom to be neat and clean. But Kylar had random bits of clothing tossed all over and drawers that were slightly ajar. There were also various novels scattered about, and you idly recognized some as being steamy romances. Interesting. That didn’t seem befitting of royalty. 

The princess closed her door behind the two you of you and the air became thick with awkward tension. What the hell was going on here? You were so caught up in how odd this entire castle was that you only just now realized - what the fuck were you doing in the princess’s bedroom?!

Kylar uncomfortably cleared her throat, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “So,” she began. “You’re probably wondering what you’re doing here instead of being locked up.”

“Well, yes,” you replied hesitantly. 

Forcing her head up, Kylar looked directly in your eyes. “I have decided you seem useful. You have a handsome face. I think there are better ways for you to serve out your sentence.”

You said nothing, letting her continue. Kylar sucked in a deep breath before saying more. 

“You will stand by my side and assist me in…whatever ways I need,” Kylar’s face flushed as she spoke, and you quickly realized what exactly she mean. 

“What?” You couldn’t help but let your shock slip out. Was this princess really suggesting you be like some…some sort of prostitute?

Kylar clenched her fists and looked away. “You don’t have to. But if you decline I will make it known that you have committed many grievous crimes and should be locked away permanently. Or maybe you would rather be executed?”

Your blood ran cold at that. Was she serious? You didn’t know much about her, but she did seem a little scary. She might really be willing to kill you…

“No,” you said quietly, clearing your throat. “No, I don’t want that.”

“Good,” Kylar replied with a smirk. “Then you should kneel.”

You immediately dropped to your knees in front of the haughty princess. She wasn’t very tall, but looking up at her still invoked fear within you. She was quite intimidating.

“Excellent. You’re a good listener,” Kylar was acting tough, but her voice was shaking a little still. She moved over to her bed and sat down on the edge. You quickly realized she wanted you to follow her and so you awkwardly crawled over. Several beats passed before she hiked up her skirt, revealing her bare thighs and a thick bush of hair. Her face turned red as she struggled to remain composed. 

“Touch me.”

Her words, while unsteady, were commanding. You weren’t sure why she was making you do this, or how the hell you ended up kneeling before a now half-naked princess. But her thighs were rather mesmerizing. They were thick and even-toned, and looked very soft. And having lived the life of a bandit, you were aware there were many worse experiences out there than being forced to pleasure a beautiful princess.

So, tentatively, you reached your hands out to grip her thighs. Kylar whimpered as soon as there was skin-on-skin contact. Your initial thoughts were correct - her skin was incredibly soft and smooth. Befitting a princess, for sure. You began to lightly stroke her thighs, as gently as possible, and noticed how immediately her skin pricked with goosebumps. 

You looked up and made direct eye contact with Kylar. She was gazing at you almost adoringly, and you felt a sudden pang in her chest. She behaved somewhat oddly. Her castle was in disarray and empty. Princess Kylar must have been a very lonely girl. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you moved your head in and began to place light kisses on her thighs. Kylar twitched and her hands gripped her bedsheets. She cleared her throat and you looked up at her again. Her face was bright red.

“Worship me…” she whispered. “Please.”

You were in no position to reject a princess. Thus, your fingers went to work tracing random patterns across the smooth expanse of her thighs, while your kisses grew more fervent and occasionally you bit down, enjoying the way Kylar squeaked and squealed with every move. Honestly, it was pretty attractive, and you felt yourself begin to grow aroused. 

Kylar’s legs parted instinctively and the unmistakable scent of arousal hit your nose. Sure enough, when you looked you noticed her cunt was practically drooling onto the bed. You stifled a smirk - her getting so turned on by just some touching was pretty funny, but her volatile attitude kept you subdued in this regard. You still were a little afraid that she might decide to execute you, after all. 

Your teeth bit down into the plush skin of her inner thigh, and Kylar moaned. “Princess,” you breathed against her, casting your eyes up. She was looking away. 

“Y-you may speak,” Kylar stammered. You smiled.

“Your skin is so soft,” you murmured against her legs, pressing kisses all over. “It’s so nice. You must take very good care of yourself.”

“Oh,” Kylar replied, clearly not expecting you to say what you had just said. “Um. I don’t know. Not really. I took a bath in rosewater earlier, I guess.”

Mm. That’s what that smell was. “Very nice,” you said quietly, moved your head closer to her core, continuing to lick and suck all the way. Her whole body squirmed when your nose bumped her clit. Then, you pressed a kiss there, too.

“Oh!” Kylar unintentionally pulled back slightly, but quickly fixed herself. “S-sorry…I mean!” She cleared her throat, clearly flustered. “You m-may continue.”

Your hands teased and scratched her thighs as you began to lick at her wet cunt. The faint smell of roses tickled your nose and mingled with her own district flavor. As soon as your tongue made contact, Kylar’s hands flew to your hair, embedding her fingers in there. “Fuck,” she said quietly.

You lapped at her drooling juices before twisting your tongue into her hole, taking one hand off her thigh to rub at her clit. Kylar’s breaths were coming out in short, stuttered bursts at this point. She was enjoying this, and truthfully, so were you.

Your tongue explored inside of Kylar, as if you were trying to drink her juices directly from the source. You curled your tongue inside of her, and Kylar’s grip on your hair tightened. When you tugged your tongue out to flick her clit, she almost yelled.

“Feels so good,” she mumbled, wiggling back and forth as if she were trying to get more friction. “Your mouth feels so good…”

Again, you weren’t going to deny a princess what she wanted. So you dove in, licking her soaking folds even more fervently, taking the time to memorize how Kylar felt; how Kylar tasted. 

As you drank her up obediently, Kylar’s hips began to wiggle more and more and her breathing grew more heavy. “Oh–I think–I’m gonna–”

You didn’t stop. You simply kept at the same pace as Kylar ground her crotch against your face and moaned loudly. Her fluids soaked the sheets beneath her and your own face felt incredibly damp and sticky. 

As you pulled away, you licked your lips subconsciously, committing her taste to memory. You unceremoniously wiped your now-soaked face on your sleeve and looked up at Kylar again. Her face was redder than you had seen her and her chest was rising and falling heavily. She took a few moments before she began to speak again. “T-that was…it, um…” she cleared her throat. “Good work. I think this will work out…”

Unsure of what to do now, you simply offered her a smile. Upon seeing your face, Kylar suddenly looked like she might faint. It was like something had just snapped inside of her. She nodded several times in succession and then grabbed your wrists, pulling you up to the bed with her. And the way she looked at you was intense, to say the least. She had a crazy, lovesick look in her eyes, that sent a chill through your body. What had you just gotten yourself into?

Kylar grinned widely at you as she pushed you down so you were laying below her on the bed. She crawled over you with that same look in her eyes. “I knew I made the right choice when I saw you. Oh, this is great,” she giggled girlishly, laying her head down on your chest. “We’re going to be together forever and ever now!”

Maybe you should’ve stayed jailed…

[keepswingin]

"How many fingers am I holding up? ... I don't have six fingers." —skz

"Fuck," Seungmin spits, fear nearly choking him as he pulls the prince closer to him. This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this, not because of him. "Jeongin-yah, look at me."

The prince's eyes had closed after his mumble of an answer, and he's not responding to anything else. Seungmin has never felt so terrified in his life.

He's ruined everything, let every single lie he's told been seen, and now the one person who was meant to pay the price from the very beginning has left a mark on Seungmin's life that he won't be able to replace.

What has he done?

"Jeongin," he calls again, louder this time, one palm pushing hard against his cheek in an attempt to wake him back up.

Rain drips from his hair, mixing with the blood that sits at the top of the prince's clothes, watercolor against his pale skin. Seungmin's chest hitches, and the sob that tears from his throat is nearly inhuman.

"Jeongin, please," he begs, thunder swallowing his words and spitting them back out until it's the only thing he can feel. He thinks he's crying. He thinks he would rip his heart out and offer it to the sky on a silver platter if it would reverse time. He thinks he would give his life to go back and stand in Jeongin's place before the younger could beat him to it.

The blade was meant for him, after all.

The shouting from the castle has grown quieter as soldiers march into the distance after a culprit that's long made his leave, unaware that the threat to the crown sits within their own ranks, an imposter from the very start. Seungmin has never thought himself dangerous, but for some reason he feels deadly, sitting here with someone's life hovering in his hands.

He looks to the wound again.

He's tried to clot it the best he could, but between the rain and what's already been stained, it's hard for him to tell if it looks any better. Jeongin needs to wake back up for him to have any type of hope in this situation.

He hates this. Hates himself for not seeing what his people were planning, the way they were so eager to use him as a red herring because that's all he's ever been good for. Was it ever a home, if he was simply used because he was smarter than the rest?

You know, you could stay. If you wanted.

Seungmin leans forward, and presses his forehead to Jeongin's. His heart is beating fast, and the rain doesn't slow. One hand clutches at the torn sleeve of Jeongin's shirt like it can anchor him as he closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

It can't end like this. Anything but this.

I don't belong here.

"Innie," he whispers, desperate. "Wake up. Please wake up. Come back." He hesitates, his next words on the tip of his tongue. Is he allowed to say such a thing, when all he's done is lie? Jeongin doesn't know who he really is.

If he looks close enough at himself, Seungmin doesn't think he knows who he really is either.

"Come back to me."

The next bout of thunder feels like it shakes him down to his very core. The sky is alight with a branching bolt of lightning. There's shouts closer to where they rest, just outside the prince's window. If he lifted his head, he'd be able to see the royal lien blowing in the storm's breeze, curtains curled around the windowsill. Maybe they've finally realized who the real threat is, and how he's holding the prince like he's something that's about to break.

I think that you do.

"I'm sorry for everything, Innie. I'm sorry for lying. I'm sorry for not being who you think I am. I'm sorry for - for getting you hurt."

He can see the blade clear in his mind's eye, the moment replaying over and over. Jeongin's hard glare at the stranger suddenly before them, inching closer to Seungmin and spitting nonsense.

Jeongin stepping in front of Seungmin without hesitation.

Jeongin's quiet gasp, the stutter of his breath. His hands clutching at the wound as if that alone would be enough to stop the blood flow. Seungmin moving to catch him before he hits the ground, arms wrapping desperately around his waist, shock propelling him forward.

"Your people need you, Innie," he whispers, the words poison against his throat. The same people who had run him from his home, the same kingdom that had looked at him like was no better than the very dirt on the ground - but no, not Jeongin.

Jeongin was different than his people, and he was different than the king. He was kind, and curious, and greeted strangers with an open palm. He was the change everyone was afraid of, the change Seungmin's people didn't understand and feared.

The change he was supposed to kill.

"I need you, Innie," he murmurs, heart pounding. He lifts his head and stares down at him like the words themselves will reanimate him, and waits. One heartbeat. Two. Three.

You don't know anything about me, your highness.

"Get away from him!"

Arms callously wrap around him from behind and violently yank him back, Jeongin's sister shrieking his name as she falls to the her knees beside his limp body, her nightgown smearing with dirt and gravel.

She's shaking her brother's shoulder far too roughly, Seungmin thinks, before he's thrown backwards, face hitting the ground. The storm grows worse as he's held there, arms wretched painfully in a way they shouldn't twist, rope tied tightly around his wrists. Maybe they'll hogtie him and leave him out here to drown in the storm.

He'd deserve it, wouldn't he?

His sister turns to Seungmin, tears streaking down her cheeks. "What did you do?" she cries, holding her brother close to her chest. His blood stains the front of her gown. Seungmin's stomach churns. "Tell me what you did to him," she all but begs, hiccuping, far from the prim and posed princess she is supposed to be. "Please!"

Mud and tears clog his throat. His chest heaves with a breath he cannot push out. The guards don't bother to pull him up, instead sending for the doctor who lives on the cusp of the village, far out of reach.

"Seungmin-ah!" his sister shouts amongst a clash of thunder. "They'll hang you for this! Don't you care?"

She stares at him, lips trembling. The cold has chilled Seungmin by now too, his own limbs borderline numb. Or maybe he's just shutting down now that he's failed the one person who meant something to him.

Seungmin's eyes slip back to Jeongin's face. His sister isn't covering him well enough, rain trickling across his lax features, the sharp curve of his jaw.

Seungmin would cover him.

"Not about myself," he whispers as the prince's sister turns back to him, shaking him once more.

He closes his eyes, and wonders what Jeongin would think, when all was said and done. Would he be kind still? Or nurture a hatred even Seungmin couldn't touch?

"Take him away," the princess sobs, curling closer to her brother. "Please."

Jeongin's soft laughter rings in his ears, a memory he can't forget. The knowing curve of his smile, the brush of his warm fingers against Seungmin's skin. The words he whispered after leaning in close to his ear, almost as if they were meant for just the two of them.

I think I know just enough.

[wangxianpromptsgenerator]

Prompt 93: All the Time that we Lost.

Takes place in a Royalty Omegaverse AU, in which an unreciprocated bitting mark fades after 10 years.

Inspired by True Gold Fears no Fire by defractum

__

LWJ wore red at his wedding to Empress Jiang Wuxian. He still allowed himself a breach in tradition, by keeping his ribbon in place instead of handfasting during the ceremony.

(It was bad luck, and rumours flew about how this marriage was doomed from the start. He didn't care.)

His True Love, Wei Ying was dead, it didn't matter who he married. So he did his duty before leaving for War the day after.

(He never unveiled his bride).

Then by a twist of Fate, he was met by the face of his long lost Love upon his return. That successfully managed the state affairs in his absence and bore him a son.

(It sparked unrest, both in his heart and in his court.)

__

WWX didn't know what to think of this marriage.

He expected a lot of things, but perhaps, not being left with a fading bite mark, a pregnancy, and a ruined country to rule in his Husband's stead for 9 years.

And rule, that he did as he cleaned house and the People prospered under his Regency.

Then his Husband came back. It suited him, it left him one year for the transfer of power before he'd be able to annul his marriage and come back to Yunmeng Jiang. Gusu had their heir, so their alliance was cemented anyway.

His only regret was leaving back his little a-Yuan. (His son, his only joy in the Palace, that he raised by himself. It's not as if they'd never be able to visit, though.).

__

Additional Notes:

- LWJ has ONE YEAR to cement his marriage and get bonded back before he'll have to let it go. A faded unreciprocated bond mark is unreversible.

- There may be a couple of assassination attempts on LWJ since both his ministers and the people would rather keep WWX on the Throne. Despite LWJ being a famed General, he was still an unknown ruler, while WWX managed to resolve the food crises in Gusu and get the country out of poverty.

- LWJ fell in love during their teenagehood, when the Jiang siblings studied in the Cloud Recess.

- WWX saw LWJ as an old classmate. He agreed to their union for the Jiang's sake (JWY had no one else to offer, YMJ was in a delicate situation, his family and extended family were slaughtered by the Wens and JYL married into the Jins).

- Yes, JWY adopted WWX into his family before marrying him off. Which is why he is known as Empress JIANG WUXIAN. LWJ had no idea of who he was when they married.

- Some YMJ back story and why WWX is known under another name.

"Wei Ying", JWY's martial brother, beheaded Wen Chao when the Wens led a siege on YMJ. So WRH asked for his life in exchange for a cease-fire, which is why the death of "Wei Ying" was staged.

The reason behind YMJ marriage alliances is that their peace was precarious. Eventually a War broke again, and it lasted 9 years (of which, LWJ was on the front while WWX ruled the country as Regent).

- Lan Yuan is wangxian's biological son. He was conceived on their wedding night, in the dark. LWJ left at sunrise, and he only sees his family for his first time upon his return.

-LQR warmed up to WWX when he realised how diligent he was with his duties as an Empress. Despite his status as an Omega, WWX was initially meant to become JWY's right hand, so he was already familiar with politics. It also helped that a-Yuan was cute.

[made-this-cause-why-not]

Jegulily slow burn royalty au??? James being a prince, Lily a being the daughter of the kingdom’s head knight who he is in love with and plans to marry BUT an enemy kingdom of many generations agree to finally make peace if James marries their second born son. James agreeing to said marriage for the sake of his kingdom. Jily sneaking around the castle, Lily being possesive, James slowly falling for his annoyingly aloof fiance and developing conflicting feelings. All with a B story wolfstar happening in the background- do you see the vision???