#the hollow crown fanfiction

[smolvenger]

Smolvenger Fanfiction Masterlist Updated 8/4/24

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Star Wars:

Oneshots-

Life Day Gift: Din Djarin x Fem! Reader:

The Mandalorian kept looking directly at you through his helmet. “Where…where did you get that necklace?” he asked. “Old friend, Life Day Gift,” you answered.

Years ago you were friends with a young boy named Din, assumed to be dead when your village was attacked. Now it's Life Day, and the day shift at your job brings a Mandalorian with a secret...an unexpected reunion. (Warnings: Mentions of death and violence and an asshole kid at the beginning, mainly fluff)

Marvel:

Oneshots-

The Most Wonderful Time- Bucky Barnes x fem! Reader: Often, he sat down- troubled. Eyes glazing over nothing but there was something inside him. Something he wouldn’t say

Bucky isn't doing too well at the Christmas celebration with your family. You go to cheer him up. (Warnings: smut with dom! Reader and sub! Bucky, some fluff)

(Not) Alone on Christmas- Bucky Barnes x trans! Masc! Reader:

“You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend!?” Bucky cried, hands on his hips.

You and Bucky fake date around the holidays. But you're definitely not interested in each other...unless...

(Warning: Brief Transphobic family member who gets shut down, some angst, but a lot of fluff)

Series-

I Say Nothing That Frightens Me: Loki x Fem! Reader.

Loki is alive and once I find him, I will tell him how I feel and-” “Y/N, he’s there with a woman he’s fallen in love with…”

Frigga sends you on a mission to find her son, who you secretly have feelings for since you were friends throughout your childhood. When you locate him with the TVA, you learn that he has fallen for some other woman named Sylvie and not you... More Coming Soon! (Warnings: Lots of angst, and an eventual happy ending)

Chapter One //Chapter Two//Chapter Three//Chapter Four Finale Coming Soon!(Continuing. Will be in Four Parts)

A Court of Mischief and Purpose: Loki x fem! Reader

“It is one week. Or you can kiss your life and your precious priest goodbye.”

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series is reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. The god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him. Opening you to a world of more magic and danger than you ever could imagine...

Masterlist Link here (ongoing!)

Masterlist for The Boat in the Water: A Beauty and the Beast Story: Loki x Stella Ransome miniseries

Summary: Having lost her health and her husband's fidelity and love, Stella has nothing more to lose than her life. Then...she is swept away to another realm, to an enchanted castle. A castle whose master is a god...a god with a striking resemblance to her husband.

One// Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven (finale, TBD)

Tom Hiddleston Characters:

Oneshots-

Professor! Tom Hiddleston

Exam Aid- Prof! Tom x Reader (Request)

“Hello class- good morning. I’m your professor- Professor Hiddleston.”

When finals have gotten you down, your Shakespeare professor offers some help...and motivation... (SMUT)

Hot for Teacher- Prof! Tom x Reader (Request)

“Oh…he hasn’t said anything about a girlfriend, do you think…he’s single?!”

Summary: After being private about your relationship, your professor boyfriend, Tom Hiddleston, introduces you to his students.

Loki

The Ceremony- Loki x fem! Reader

"Now, all of you wish to watch? Then watch."

Summary: You and your dear prince, Loki of Asgard, are finally getting married. But in order for the marriage to be legitimate, your wedding night and consummation must be witnessed… (SMUT)

Seven PM Sharp- Loki x fem! Reader

Stupid, beautiful asshole with a great ass.

Summary: A sudden dinner "for the Avengers" changes everything about the relationship between you and a certain mischievous god... (SMUT)

The King of Asgard- Loki x fem! Reader

“Hail the King Loki! Hail the Queen Y/N!”

As the wife of Prince Loki of Asgard, you suddenly discover that Odin and Thor are gone. You are made queen and your dear husband is king. But a king needs an heir...(SMUT)

Reunion- Loki x fem! Reader

"He’s been gone for a bit- it’s been a few days."

The sacred timeline is destroyed. And your missing, mischievous lover has returned. A confrontation and a fear of abandonment and betrayal with his return still bring about the passion you have for each other. (SMUT)

Yggdrasil- Loki x fem! Reader

“Please…take me to him…it is all I want, all I wish, all I ask for..."

Your husband, the god of mischief, has made the ultimate sacrifice for his friends, and the world...he lives, but now he is alone...that is until you choose to join him in his solitude and make a life there.

My Goddess- Loki x fem! Curvy/Plus-Sized! Reader (Request)

'Don’t get carried away. You’re just not meant for romance, Y/N'

Amidst the pressures of school and your personal insecurities, you never expect your crush on the god of Mischief to be reciprocated...

Crimson Peak

Handsome Enough to Tempt Me.: Sir Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader.

Yes, he was a stranger. Yes, you were alone with a man. But he seemed kind.

You were looking forward to a ball, but no one will dance with you and the night is turning sour. That is until you cross paths with a baronet with a talent for inventing... (TW: brief mentions of past abuse, but lots of fluff, a wee bit of hurt/comfort)

Half Agony, Half Hope: Sir Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader

"And there’s something else…something you must know about me, about the man who’s going to be your husband…”

Your engagement with Thomas Sharpe makes him reveal the trauma of his childhood abuse with you. (TW: Mentions of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse)

Coriolanus

Twenty-Seven Wounds- Caius Martius Coriolanus x fem! Reader

After a few months, you realized something- you had never seen him bare.

In ancient times, in a place that calls itself Rome, you find yourself married to the general Caius Martius or Coriolanus. He has fought so many battles he has twenty-seven scars on his body. Scars that he has not shown you yet...

The Night Manager

Summer In Majorca: Jonathan Pine x fem! Reader

“Listen, the point is- I will not be the one you settle for just because you can’t have Jed!” you cried.

A trip to Spain alongside Roper and his crew had you cross paths with a man mysterious as he is kind and heroic as he is handsome. But it seems he has eyes for Jed and not you...

(Warnings: Eventual Smut)

High-Rise

The Cure for Virginity: Dr. Robert Laing x fem! Reader

Men have the brothel. Women have Laing.

You recently moved into the High-Rise and befriended the Residents. But your new friend, Charlotte, thinks you've been a virgin for too long. She suggests someone to help with that. The best amenity in the building: Doctor Robert Laing.

Warnings: 18+, Eventual SMUT!!!!

Series:

The Essex Serpent

Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed: Some Stella Ransome x Will Ransome, Eventually Stella Ransome x Male OC

"Aldwinter was not filled with the sound of a hissing Serpent but the crying of women and especially of wives."

What does that say when men, even priests, are the ones free to misbehave and innocent women are the ones punished? Here, we explore the life of a young woman named Stella. Sweet and proper, she is naturally the ideal woman for the 19th century's expectations, as well as those for a minister's wife. She falls in love and marries a handsome vicar named William Ransome. Despite the challenges, they build a peaceful, happy life together in their small town. But then Stella Ransome not only catches consumption but discovers her beloved husband is having an affair...

TW: Discussions of cheating and the trauma and grief it brings but the cheated-on spouse gets revenge). If you don't want to read about Will or Cora or their affair being portrayed negatively, you have been warned.The series is now complete!

Link to Masterlist Here

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//

Ten//Eleven//Twelve//Thirteen//Fourteen//Fifteen//Sixteen//

Seventeen

Stella's Second Husband: Stella Ransome x Male OC, a little of Stella x Will if you squint.

"Then, when I die. When I see God before judging my actions. I’ll only tell him- Lord, I loved a precious woman...And if I die from my love for her, then I can think of no sweeter death.”

Act One//Act Two (Complete)

The Pain of Being Betrayed by the ones you love hurts deeper than the bite of any mythical Serpent. Can Stella move on from Will and find a happy future with her new husband, Harry Cavardossi?

Warnings: Discussions of Suicidal Intentions. We get Two Tom Hiddleston's fighting each other. Some Steamy Stuff but no actual graphic smut. Drunkenness.

War Horse

Miss Narracott and The Captain: Captain James Nicholls x fem! Reader

Goodness, the uniform really did make him even more attractive! It made you dizzy.

Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five//Part Six//Part Seven//Part Eight-Finale Coming Soon!

Summary: You are Y/N Narracott, the older sister of Albert Narracott. You must do what you can so your family can keep their farm. And so your brother can keep his beloved horse. Under financial struggles, you never expect romance to come into your life...until you have a chance encounter with James Nicholls- a Captain with a knack for drawing. (Continuing)

Warnings: Light Slow Burn, some fluff, and some angst.

How To Fake Date A Spy: Jonathan Pine x fem! Reader

“Tell everyone you’re a couple, now. Go to a few parties and restaurants, hold arms, and smile at each other. Maybe a kiss on the cheek, sometimes!"

Part One//Part Two//Part Three Coming Soon!

When you joined your sister, Jed, for a lovely summer in Spain, you wanted to enjoy yourself. Instead, you have to deal with numerous men of Roper's business having a gross interest in you for more than small talk. Going to Roper for help, he offers an idea- pretending to be the date of his newest friend. A handsome sous-chef known as Thomas Quince. Little do you know yet, the man's real name is Jonathan Pine and he is on a mission to take Roper down...

The Hollow Crown

Used Goods- Prince Hal x Reader.

Why does he have to be The Prince of Wales? Why couldn’t he be just a tailor?

You are betrothed to your darling prince Hal, but the Law of Contract demands that you must be a virgin to marry the future King of England. This forces you to confirm a traumatic incident and secret from your past...how will Hal react? TW: Discussions of past sexual assault,"Who did this to you?", Hurt/Comfort, and comforting fluff.

Part One// Part Two

The Twelve Days- Prince Hal x Reader.

“You, luckiest of girls, are betrothed to marry none other than the King of England!” your mother cheered.

You were betrothed to marry none other than the young kind of England, a man you had never met. Now you must face your first celebration of the Twelve Days of Christmas not only as a queen but as a wife in a royal and still unconsummated marriage... TW: Smut, only a little angst, and lots of fluffy and romantic moments.

(Now Complete!)

One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight

The Queen's Abduction- Henry V x fem! Reader (Request)

"You may not fear my father,  you may not fear my brother- but you will fear the wrath of his majesty, the king"

Shortly after your secret marriage to the king of England, Henry V, a nefarious villain abducts you to be his...

Nursing The Prince- Prince Hal x fem! Reader

"You look at the prince like he was a honey-cake!"

You tend to Prince Hal's wounds after the Battle of Shrewsbury.

Arise Fair Sun- Henry V x fem! Reader

"Here, there are no eyes watching us. I can speak to you honestly"y.

One night, Henry appears under your balcony to confess his feelings to you.

The Wedding of The King- Henry V x fem! Reader

As king, Henry could have anything...But he could not have a wife who loved him.

Henry is looking forward to the wedding of his arranged marriage to you. You as The Bride, however, are not...

(Small Spinoff of The Twelve Days but can be read without that context)

The Battle of Agincourt- Henry V x fem! Reader

"The camp is far off. They won’t disturb us. They won’t hear us..."

As his wife and queen, you follow your husband, Henry the Fifth to France for his battles. It is the morning of the battle of Agincourt, and you don't know if he will make it out alive. You spend one last moment of passion together. (Contains Smut)

After The Battle- Henry V x fem! Reader

For many men, the lust for battle was only a flip of a coin from the lust of the body. 

After your husband, King Henry V, wins and survives the battle of Agincourt, you meet him in his tent to reward him... (Contains smut)

The Tavern Prince- Prince Hal x Fem! Proper! Reader

You hated that he was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on.

You are shocked and unhappy to find out you are betrothed to notorious rake, Prince Hal. But one evening, he sneaks you into the Boar's Head Tavern...and your mind about him starts to change. (SMUT)

BIRTHDAY BLURB MASTERLIST TBD

Taglist: @4stary @sonyascomet @asgards-princess-of-mischiefvelyn-kingsley @five-miles-over @jennyggggrrr @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @villainousshakespeare

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, DMS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORK ARE APPRECIATED! THANK YOU!!! If anyone wants to be added to the taglist or removed, please let me know! Thanks y'all!

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-02-02

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Prince Hal/Henry V stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

✠ Claimed by yespolkadotkitty • 18+ • 〔E᜶M〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: When an unknown man claims ownership of your home, you determine the best course of action is to gain his favour by using your feminine wiles.

✠ Arise Fair Sun by smolvenger • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "One night, Henry appears under your balcony to confess his feelings to you."

✠ Army of King Henry V, the by frostbitten-written • 18+ • 〔E᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "King Henry V will be departing for battle on the morrow. He and his queen share one last night of passion, with hopes of conceiving"

✠ Her Prince￨Prt. II by omgrachwrites • 〔F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "The man that comes to visit you at your woodland cottage —the man that you're falling in love with —is a mystery. When you discover what he's hiding from you, it turns your... world upside down."

✠ Nursing the Prince by smolvenger • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "You tend to Prince Hal's wounds after the Battle of Shrewsbury."

✠ Prince and the Servant, the￨Prt. II by angelkurenai • 〔F〕 •

Summary:

✠ Queen's Abduction, the by smolvenger • 16+ • 〔A᜶C〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: "Shortly after your secret marriage to the king of England, Henry V, a nefarious villain abducts you to be his..."

✠ Second Floor, the by shiningloki • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Prince Hal has been visiting the ale house for as long as he could remember. He met you there —a woman employed by the tavern to pleasure its customers. After taking you for the night, Hal [demands you] be reserved for his personal use only... Six months later, Hal [returns after leaving for war three weeks early] later to indulge in [you], but this time, he has come with a shocking revelation."

✠ Shy by high-functioning-lokipath • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "[Like] many nights, Hal finds himself in the Eastcheap taverns… [However,] this night, he notices something different — or rather, someone. Blending into the background... [you keep your] head down... as [you clean] up... occasionally [you glance] their way, meeting his eyes a few times but never lingering in his gaze. [So] as any cocky, self-assured Prince would do, he saunters over to [you], his head held high... with a charming smirk painted on his lips."

✠ Tavern Prince by smolvenger • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "You are shocked and unhappy to find out you are betrothed to notorious rake, Prince Hal. But one evening, he sneaks you into the Boar's Head Tavern... and your mind about him starts to change."

✠ Used Goods￨Prt. II by smolvenger • 〔F᜶A〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •

Summary: "While betrothed to... Hal. But The Law of Contract states that you must be a virgin to marry into royalty. You are not; you didn't choose to...and to escape arrest and treason, you must seek the Prince and tell him your dark secret of being sexually abused as a child. Is the betrothal over? How will Hal react?"

✠ Wedding of the King, the by smolvenger • 16+ • 〔F᜶C〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: "Henry consents to an arranged marriage to [you, a noble woman]. He is enthusiastic about [the marriage] upon meeting [you]. [Nevertheless,] as the wedding day arrives, he learns that [you are] not."

✠ Wordless by megthemewlingquim • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary:

✠ You Will Be Mine by five-miles-over • 〔E〕 • 🚫 •

Summary: Hal takes a special interest in one of the palace servants.

✠ Beautiful by angelkurenai • 〔F〕 •

✠ Beautiful as Always by lady-rose-moon • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Fairytale by five-miles-over • 〔F〕 •

✠ Fight by angelkurenai • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✠ His Queen by smolvenger • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Prince Charming by jewels2876 • 〔F〕 •

✠ Shamless by megthemewlingquim • 18+ • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✠ Waking Through the Forest by high-functioning-lokipath • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || Prince Hal/Henry V Master Index

See Also: @angelkurenai || @five-miles-over || @frostbitten-written || @high-functioning-lokipath || @jewels2876 || @lady-rose-moon || @megthemewlingquim || @omgrachwrites || @shiningloki || @smolvenger || @yespolkadotkitty ||

[therealslimshakespeare]

Twenty Songs Challenge, written after being so lovingly inducted by the powerhouse that is sweet Mey, @the-ugly-swan . Challenge being to choose twenty favorited songs and write one shots based off of them with any pairing or fandom of my choosing. Being a weirdo and a little burned out in my own created universes beyond the fics already in works, I chose what currently inspired me most, obscure as it is.

Pairing: Henry “Hotspur” Percy and Lady “Kate�� Mortimer Percy -early 15th century

Fandom: RPF, Shakespeare? Tom Glynn-Carney’s 5 magnificent minutes of a performance as Hotspur in <The King 2019> the armor alone was amply inspiring. The Hollow Crown fans feel free to imagine whoever, as you like. I love this historical pairing in about any iteration and the plot is drawn from both Shakespeare’s play and real history, the timeline, plot and politics being pretty self explanatory through the incorporated dialogue. NOTE- wordplay ahead with “cur” and “Kerr”, the latter being a Scottish clan holding great enmity with the Percy Family and charged with holding the Scottish side of the border. Also I kept Lady Percy’s name as “Kate” even though it was technically Elizabeth in the records.

Dynamic: a rough northern lord and his too good for him lady -a lady who has, through years of an arranged marriage gone horribly well, come to find his homespun gallantry and blunt ways more than a little intoxicating when knelt before her in amused deference. She could almost find it in herself to be gentle with him -if he hadn’t just started a rebellion whilst away from her at the Capitol.

Dedicated to my wifey @prompted-wordsmith who I did proselytize into the Percy cult one fevered evening with inestimable results, including her contribution of a few choice lines herein.

🕯As it Was ~ Hozier

“There is a roadway, muddy and foxgloved

Never I'd had life enough

My heart is screaming out

And in a few days I would be there, love

Whatever here that's left of me is yours just as it was”

Warnings: 18+ to be safe. a small amount of sexual content, flirtations, a husband and wife touching in public, verbal sparring and talk of making children and use of the word “bred”, swearing, use of the words “cock” and “cunt.”

The sound of hooves in the courtyard rouses Kate from her anxious stupor by the hearth, toilsome grain list forgotten on her lap. The scroll swishes to the floor at her abrupt standing, wafting out of her path as she rushes to the window.

First the clatter of a single, foremost, over-eager rider, followed at a lag by his retinue, skilled riders all and armored as befits the guard of a nobleman. They make such a clatter in the yard when they come in after him. Some petty part of her briefly considers the tactic of staying here in their chambers in protest, a quiet sign of disapproval with his errand, of discontent with his brusque leave taking two weeks agone.

Her Harry would find her anyway, and like it better that she were in their chambers. He would like it well she were so near the bed and like it ill she slighted him in her dutiful welcome -but he would not speak of that. Not one for speaking much, her husband, not on matters that plague her these days, weeks, months. Kate might have it out with him in the old way and slap him about and toss cold quips and get from him little more than the same benign aggravation and good humored laughs between, a couple dozen kisses to her neck and a grapple in the sheets.

That is what talk they would undertake were she to stay up here.

It is that lone, eager, forerunning clatter of his horse that speaks to her, speaks for him. Just as his sword and his reputation and his gruff graciousness has spoken well of him across these northern lands, his eagerness to return to her, to outstrip his men in haste to be back from his fool’s errand and into her embrace -it is all the declaration of devotion she may expect from him. It is the truest form, without jape lacing his tone or tonic of lust clouding his confessions.

Harry Hotspur, as fast to return to his wife as he is to meet a fight.

It is love, of the sort she has grown to be grateful for, and it is that and fear of losing it besides, that rushes her out from their chambers and down the polished steps, out to the great hall and past the giant outer doors, cursing a lousy servant or five and ordering a bath and commissioning supper and refreshments as she goes. The torch flames bend from her flight, a whoosh and a shadow stalking Alnwick Castle’s stone passageways until the gray light of evening pours into her sight from the opened great doors. Squires and stable boys clutter her path but they part as she dashes, nay, only a dignified hasten now, out into the courtyard where nearly all of this fool’s troup have dismounted.

There are doffed helms to the Lady Percy, the jangle of chain mail crinkling with bows and scraps of deference all around them, but she sees only him, with mist dripping on his nose and a face too boyish for the insolence he has returned from discharging.

“Kate.” he utters.

Will ever he say her name lazily? She hopes not, for that alone she will endure the unwarranted cheerfulness with which he greets her on this dire occasion. She has heard it said in anger, in jest and in passion, vows and quips, praise and warning. And now in cheerful pleasure as evening mist soaks her gown and the heavy clunk of her husband's footsteps clang ever near her on the paving stones.

“Lord husband.” she greets, hands folded over her freshly healed womb.

His stride falters and he rocks back on his spurred heels, an arms length away, an embrace so tangible she can see his jaw tick from the watering of his mouth. “Lord husband is it?” he repeats thoughtfully, eyes drifting down to the paving stones for a brief moment as if to recollect some forgotten crime, they flick up soon and in them is jesting scrutiny, “My lady wife rushed all this way, down five corridors and a furlong of Keep only to greet me thus?”

Did her rising breath betray her eagerness? Could he see her in the hall despite his business dismounting?

“Your cheeks are red.” he shows her mercy, some form of it. His form. “But -Lord husband, it is, nevertheless?”

“Unless you would prefer ought else?” she inquires, he had once thought this smile quite chilling, he had admitted after their first babe, now he finds it rousing, he has admitted after their third.

“If it please you.” his shifting stance is noisy, his tabard and sword and still clutched helm a racket of accouterments in the pattering rain.

“I have any number to offer,” she concedes, stepping nearer, a lady’s step, covering one third of the ground between them that he might vanquish in a single stride. Still, he waits. “Knucklehead.” she whispers, her breath a fog and her insult as lost as vapor in the ears of his watching men, her bearing alone must satisfy their curiosity, as must his growing smirk and rising color, “Jackenape.” Another step until each little scar on his face is visible and the little canyons each raindrop make of them. She saw his finger twitching where it grasped his visor “Cur.”

There was the slightest flinch between his brows at that, a furrow that smoothed as his mirthful lips flattened out. “Careful now, lady wife, with words like Kerr* thrown about, my men might think you presumptuous, their lady gone and married to some other, a Scottish laird at that. So sure of my death already, sweet Kate, that you must speak of Kerrs in mine own yard? Ha, ‘pon my word you are qu-“

“Hush!” Her hand, fresh warmed as it was by recent hearthside and rich velvets pressed frimly to his lips, a tingle shooting straight to her toes at touching him at last. He was silent then, only the puff of breath against her fast chilling fingertips. “Tease me not so,” she begged, her own mirth gone out in her eyes, her arch look turned to grief, “not when you are just returned from an errand all but ensuring such an end. It is too cruel, even of you. Handle me kindly, Percy, as you always have, in words this time, if not in embrace.”

He seemed to ponder this before raising that hand not occupied with his helm, clumsy and clad in gauntlet as it was, to her wrist, wrapping the chilled and layered steel round her pale flesh and gently tugging her hand from his lips, only so far as to press it to his cheek instead, their audience of men at arms unheeded. “I betook myself to London,” he enunciated, as if it were their first night all over again and his thick borderland drawl too strong for her courtly ears to decipher, “to remind a king of his debts.”

“And tell me!” she cried fiercely, a choked, barely quieted protest as her hands dug into the wet leather of his jerkin, wrist twisted from the steel grasp, “What errand is that but a fool’s? Have you no fear at all left in this bruised carcass? Do I patch up an animated corpse time and again from your wars only for it never to have soul and feeling and wisdom in it? Do I, Harry? Gone to remind a king? How do you dare such?”

“It is he who has dared too much!” he cried back, loudly where her’s had been choked, a ringing and rebauld defense, worthy of a man who would chastise his monarch in full view of council. “First his debts, and now my son’s land! We did not make children so as to watch like blithe cowards as their birthright is bequeathed out from under our feet -piecemeal!- to a courtly cunt whose only recommendation is his alacrity to pucker and bow.”

Kate glanced about her at the men making show of industry, piddling at harnesses and armaments, walking horses in circles. Her husband's words could be no worse than what he had said to the King’s own face, anyone without stomach to become a rebel would have stayed behind in the Capitol, sensing dissension brewing. Lady Percy could perceive none missing from his number. So, a war it was to be, then.

“So, a new generation of Percys is to play at kingmaking.” she summarized.

“We make no boast of it.” Harry protested in turn.

“No,” said she, “why would you with how poorly your last choice has served you?”

That caused a start from him, a step forward that was neither gallant nor eager but angry as man to man. Kate, still with hands fisted in the crooks of his armor, stepped with him, backwards to his hall. “It is your brother with the better claim.” he showed his plan at last, a slow and conniving admission, one not common for his brash ways and straightforward mind.

Kate gasped at the implication. “Edmund?”

“He was proper heir, all along.”

“Your father-“ she chose her wording carefully, “-did not agree.”

“My father’s preference is not law.”

“It is mistaken for such, often.” Kate smirked in reply. “And Edmund is not suited-“

“-Edmund is not the turd now stealing from his vassals!” her Harry rejoined, his helmet pressed to her chest, “Edmund will do.” he reiterated once more.

Kate stared at his temper, the signs of it in his flaring nose and his wild eyes, the cure was between her thighs but watching mist drops fall from unblinking lashes was sweet prelude indeed. “Edmund,” she replied quietly and in a manner to be heeded, “is not willing or suited, he prefers instead to listen to welsh bards and lay upon the lap of his savage wife.”

Her Harry rolled his eyes at her truth, an admission, or the closest to one, she would ever receive. As if battling some great inner turmoil she watched him purse his lips and heave out a sigh before in a sudden movement the helm was tossed to the ground -much to the scramble and reaction of a half a dozen squires who ran to pick it up from its puddle- and suddenly steel hands were upon her hips, tugging her near to him even as she shied away, her face turned in a pantomime of demureness. “Strange,” he said and his tone suggested he still pondered her report of her brother's amorous preoccupations, “-and her lap so less Devine than mine own wife’s.”

“Then why do you haste from it so often?” she whined, delivering a smack against his belted tabard, right where the lions paraded across his right breast.

“Only a man dying of thirst appreciates that water has a flavor.” he reasoned and Kate allowed the open mouthed kisses that crept down her neck, her face turned stubbornly still to the south wall. The blacksmith's roof will be in need of new thatching soon, before spring. Before war.

She feels stubble against her tender skin, bracketing those pretty lips she once derided him for. No warrior ought to have lips like that, it was not seemly, not when maidens were denied such richness, such fullness, such rosy hue. But there is roughness about his lips and on his jaw as it tucks into the juncture at her shoulder, that show of clavicle her dress allows drawing him in like a siren’s song. He must’ve rode hard the entire way, no inns or refreshment, no shaving or baths, straight to her as from a battlefield. The King’s city is just as loathsome as any field of carnage, but he went to free her brother, to get a ransom, to reclaim their stolen land, to remind a king.

He did it for her, and the babes she gave him.

Kate turns her face from the blacksmith's thatch and raises her hand to his face, tenderly stroking the three days' beard that's grown as he's been on the road, riding hard to get to her. They have backed nearly to the hall’s mouth, the drip of rain off the gutter patters behind her on the threshold, Kate knows he can smell supper and hear the clatter of their children racing to meet him on still chubby legs. How different is the love of home, man to woman, Harry would sooner fight for it and she would cower within. Her thumb swipes at the raindrops making farce of tears upon his cheek.

"Princess," he breathes against her palm as he crushes her into his chest, still half armored and agonized for it as he cannot feel her softness with the cuirass, the leather, the chainmail. There are curves and bosoms and soft flesh he knows too well just on the other side of this awful barrier.

Princess will be her title if his treason succeeds, if her brother wears that cursed crown. “Princess”. It sours her mouth, but it is kind of him to wish it for her.

"You will come back, Harry.” she commands of him, she declares the outcome of this brewing war, “Soaked in the blood of feckless scum, you will come back and put another babe in me. A little prince or princess," she hisses in his ear, and she can tell he freezes at that, her concession to his treason, still as stone in his metal casings.

His eyes are ever so blue as they search hers.

"So I forbid any recklessness, my Lord Husband. Because I want this - " and her hand slips beneath his jerkin and the hem of mail to squeeze his cockstand most assuredly, as assuredly as she was that he would be sporting one for her, gripping it as one might grasp a chalice of wine during a toast "- and the rest of you, in one piece." Harry slumps against her shoulder, panting into the chilled hair and too heavy for her little frame. "Or so help me God." she intones, sharper than any steel he wields. "Swear it, Harry." She gives him another punishing squeeze, and he groans, agonized, as his mouth meets with the softness of her bound bosom, his knees the hardness of the stone cobbles. If she hadn't promised a use for his cock, he'd think she was liable to geld him herself at his presumption to seat and unseat a king, but now that he is out of her grip, for a moment, and looks up at her with such longing he fears his soul has left his chest for hers.

"So help me God." he agrees, it is in providence’s hands, after all, and in Kate’s clasped one’s atop his head.

“Fool.” she says once more as she bends over him, gently pressing a hand to the back of his head, pressing his face to her belly and her chilled fingers to his sopping hair, “It is not my brother these men fight for, nor for me. Not when it is you that calls them to it.”

“For what then?” He mumbles into her womb, hands heavy on her hips, the courtyard’s occupants dispersed into the shadows of the eaves, but a couple dozen peering eyes twinkle towards them in the twilight’s gloom.

“How often have I heard it said here, in this very courtyard.” Kate scoffs, observing the strength knelt so adoringly before her, “Have I dreamed each cry of ‘no prince save he be a Percy?’ Ha, to think they fight for a Mortimer, indeed. Ha!”

Harry staggers to his feet at this poke, it is, as are so many of his Kate’s wounds, half torment, half praise. His blood pounds with the elixir of her acknowledgment of his capability. “It is well then, Kate Mortimer,” he recites, daring now to put his lips very near her own, to nuzzle his strong nose with her hawkish one, to tip a chin and bat an eyelash against her wet cheek, “it is well that you are Percy now yourself, through and through, wed-“ his lips meet hers in a brush she chases after, “-and bred.”

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

Hope all five of you who read that enjoyed it. 😆 I know it’s a fragment but as I’m nothing but hyper fixated when some interests resurrects in me, I’ll probably be back with more of them. Drop a note below if you’d like to be on a taglist for such developments.

[fluenzed]

AFTER OBX— JJ MAYBANK FANFICTION

fanfiction | jj maybank | alternative ending | obx | 4674 words

warning: mention of sex, drugs, alcohol and violence

______________________________________________

CHAPTER 2 — "Let's change that, let's go fishing."

Somewhere on the ocean

The men themselves were as weathered as the table they sat around, each with eyes that held stories darker than the night outside. Their voices were low, rough with age, experience, and the heaviness of lives led outside the law. They leaned close, speaking in quiet, gravelly tones about the blue crown and a group of teenagers who had once managed to outwit men like them.

"Hard to believe," muttered a grizzled man with a deep scar slashing across his cheek. He was the oldest among them, a career soldier turned mercenary who bore the scars of battles in places that didn't make the news. "Kids from the Outer Banks, finding a treasure hunters been after for decades. They're smart—I'll give 'em that."

"Smart?" scoffed the man sitting across from him, fingers tracing the rim of a half-empty glass. His hair was cropped short, a faded tattoo trailing up his neck, and his face had the hollow look of a man who hadn't slept peacefully in years. "More like lucky. Besides, that was two years ago. Last sighting was in Morocco. They're just ghosts now."

The fourth man leaned forward, his dark eyes gleaming with a predatory intent. He was younger than the others, with the wiry build of someone who'd spent his life in pursuit. "Ghosts, maybe, but they left a trail. And I've found them."

At his words, a dangerous silence fell over the group. The man at the head of the table leaned back, an amused gleam lighting up his otherwise cold eyes. Simon was the kind of man who had built his fortune on ruthlessness, calculating every move to ensure his survival—and his dominance. He was a legend in certain circles, not only in the United States but worldwide, known for the treasures he'd hunted and the people he'd left ruined in his path. The underworld whispered his name with both respect and fear.

"So," Simon said at last, his voice like ice, soft but sharp, "what's the plan?"

"We find him—and kill him," Simon's own voice answered, his words soft yet brutal. He smirked, a cruel edge pulling at his lips. "I don't care about the others. I want the blond one."

One of the men raised an eyebrow. "Why him, Simon? Why not just deal with them all at once?"

"Because," Simon said, his tone laced with venom, "he stole from me. Not once, but twice. And that makes him my problem. His friends? They're just distractions. But him? He's the brain behind all this. JJ Maybank."

The room stilled as Simon reached down, pulling a worn leather satchel onto his lap. From within it, he retrieved a small metal box, which he opened with a flick of his thumb. As he tilted the box over the table, a cascade of photographs spilled out, the glossy surfaces catching the dim light. Each photograph showed the same blond figure—JJ Maybank—captured at different times, in different places, living a life of cautious normalcy, unaware of the eyes that followed him.

"Here," Simon said, spreading the photographs out with deliberate precision. The other men leaned in, studying the images. JJ was caught in routine moments: driving a faded car down a narrow cobbled street, leaving a modest house, slipping in and out of stores along a sunlit street in Porto. Always moving, always cautious, yet somehow, always found.

"He faked his death, then ran to Porto, thinking he could vanish. Clever move," Simon murmured, a grudging respect in his voice. "But not clever enough."

The scarred man smirked, tapping one of the photos with a hardened finger. "So, how do we take him?"

Simon's gaze hardened, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried a deadly finality. "With precision. We need a plan that accounts for every move. One mistake, and he's gone. This man is not easy to catch."

A man who had been silent until now leaned forward, his voice low and measured. "We don't have to wait for him to make a move. Someone's already in Porto, watching him. They've been there for days, tracking his every step, waiting for word."

The others froze, glancing at him. Simon's eyes narrowed, the predatory gleam sharpening as he absorbed this information. "Who?" he asked, his voice laced with quiet urgency.

"A contact," the man explained. "One of ours. A local who knows the city well. They've been keeping an eye on JJ, blending into the crowds, following him without being seen. Every move, every pattern—he's not alone in this anymore. We'll know where he goes next, before he does."

Simon's lips curled into a dark smile, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Perfect. We move when he least expects it. And when we make our move, we don't leave anything to chance. Make no mistake—when I catch him, it's over. We can't afford another failure."

The others nodded in agreement, tension building in the small cabin as the details of their plan began to take shape. Outside, the distant rumble of thunder hinted at an approaching storm, as if the sea itself was preparing for what was to come. The unseen watcher in Porto, meanwhile, already held the first thread in this dangerous game. Soon, the pieces would start to fall into place, and JJ Maybank would learn just how thin the line between hunter and hunted could be.

_______________________

JJ woke up before dawn, the chill in the air sharp as a knife against his skin, seeping through the cracked window he'd been meaning to fix for weeks. The cold November sea breeze swept into his small room, carrying with it the salty scent of the ocean mingled with the sharp bite of winter. He shivered, his nose and cheeks already flushed red from the cold before he'd even left his bed.

For a few long moments, he lay there under the thin blanket, blinking at the dim light creeping through the blinds. He pulled himself up slowly, stiff from the cold and from the memories that had made sleep so elusive. Stifling a yawn, he moved across the cramped room, bare feet against the icy wooden floor, and opened the fridge. Empty, as usual. Only a half-empty bottle of orange juice sat on the shelf, a reminder he hadn't gone shopping in days. He sighed, took a swig straight from the bottle, and set it back in place before padding to the bathroom.

Peeling off his clothes, he stepped into the shower and turned the water as hot as it would go. The warmth hit him like a wave, instantly melting the tension from his muscles and fogging up the small, cracked mirror over the sink. JJ closed his eyes, letting the water pound against his shoulders and draw him deep into his thoughts—the life he'd left behind, the friends he missed, and the constant weight of looking over his shoulder. Here, in Porto, he was supposed to be invisible, safe. But some days, he could still feel a faint, lingering unease prickling at his skin.

After a long few minutes, he turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist. As he stepped out of the shower, he wiped the steam from the mirror, catching sight of his own reflection. He looked tired, the shadows under his eyes dark from endless nights spent worrying, planning, and occasionally, regretting. With a sigh, he reached for his toothbrush, brushed his teeth, and tried to shake the weight of the past from his mind.

Once he was dressed—worn jeans, a sweater a little frayed at the cuffs, and an old jacket—JJ grabbed his keys and made his way out to the small store he'd been working at. It was a modest marina shop.It wasn't much, but it gave him a purpose and kept him connected to the sea he loved.

The routine was the same every day, a kind of comforting monotony that helped him disappear in plain sight. He unlocked the door, flipped the lights on, and inhaled the familiar scent of wood, sea salt, and oil. Before opening, he swept the small floor, dusted off the shelves, and stocked a few supplies he'd unloaded from a shipment the day before. Next, he opened the counter register and checked the mail, sorting through bills and junk. As he moved, he mentally ran through his to-do list for the day: inventory, checking appointments, ordering replacement parts for a few local fishermen's boats.

As he flipped through the appointment book, JJ found himself lost in thought again, wondering how long he could keep this quiet life up, how long he could remain unnoticed. The familiar weight of his routine settled over him, keeping him grounded—but he knew, deep down, that he couldn't hide forever.

While JJ was going through his usual tasks that afternoon, the gentle chime of the bell rang out, cutting through his concentration. He lifted his head, expecting a regular customer, but froze when he saw the figure in the doorway. A tall man with broad shoulders and an air that radiated authority and unease had entered the shop, his movements slow and deliberate. The man didn't bother with a greeting, didn't even nod in acknowledgment. He just locked eyes with JJ for a tense moment, his gaze lingering like he was sizing him up.

JJ's pulse quickened, the atmosphere shifting, the once-familiar shop feeling suddenly claustrophobic. The man's presence unsettled him, his worn clothes and hardened demeanor giving him the appearance of someone familiar with dark places, someone who wasn't here for boat supplies. Still, the stranger strolled over to the shelves, his eyes gliding over the merchandise with an odd intensity, as if pretending to browse bait and tackle. JJ couldn't shake the feeling that this man was watching him more closely than he was watching the shelves.

Just as his instincts were about to tell him to say something, the bell rang again. JJ turned, exhaling with relief as Alex walked in, her bright smile bringing a much-needed change to the room's heavy atmosphere.

"Hey, you," she said warmly, her eyes lighting up. JJ felt his shoulders ease a little. She held out a few bills. "I came by to give you the money for the boat."

With Alex here, it was easier to ignore the tall stranger lingering in the back of the shop. JJ turned his attention to the counter and started counting the cash she handed him. "You gave me too much," he noted, separating out the right amount and holding the rest back to her.

"Keep it," Alex insisted, her voice soft yet firm. "You've helped me a lot. I want you to have it."

JJ frowned and shook his head. "You serious? I don't want it." He extended the money back to her, but Alex only raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"It's either you take it, or I burn it," she replied, crossing her arms with a determined smile.

JJ let out a reluctant chuckle, feeling the warmth in her insistence. "Thank you," he said, a little embarrassed as he took the cash and tucked it away. He glanced toward the back of the store, his mind drifting to the stranger—but the man had vanished, slipping out unnoticed at some point during their exchange.

JJ couldn't shake the odd feeling lingering from that brief encounter, but Alex's presence helped him refocus. She continued talking, her words easing him back into normalcy.

"So," she said after a pause, a hint of nerves in her smile, "there's this beach party tonight in Vila Nova de Gaia. Thought you might want to come? Not a date," she added quickly, flustered, making JJ laugh a little at her honesty.

"Sure, I'm in," he said, smiling. "Want me to pick you up?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yeah, that'd be great." She fished her phone out of her bag and handed it to him. "Here, put your number in."

JJ took her phone, amused. "If you wanted my number, you could've just asked," he teased, noticing a slight blush creep up her cheeks. He entered his number, sent a quick text to himself, and handed the phone back to her.

"Okay, I close up at seven. I'll come by at eight?"

"Sounds good," she said, grinning. "See you then."

After she left, JJ tried to shake off the lingering tension from the strange man's visit, but his instincts wouldn't let it go. Something about that encounter felt wrong, his gut telling him the man hadn't just been browsing for fishing supplies. But for now, he tried to ignore it, focusing on the work left to do.

**Porto, 7 p.m.**

As the day wound down, JJ went through his evening routine, tidying up the store, putting items back in place, and counting the cash register before locking up. He headed to his apartment to freshen up, swapping his work clothes for a pair of jeans, a plain black jacket, and a faded red cap he pulled low over his eyes. Checking his reflection one last time, he shrugged, grabbed his car keys, and headed out.

On the drive to Alex's place, he felt his nerves ease a little. When he pulled up, he barely had a chance to text her before she stepped outside, flashing a warm smile. He smiled back, not even realizing how naturally it came.

"Hey, you," she said, getting into the car and buckling up. She glanced at him with a smirk. "Kinda dressed up tonight, huh?"

He chuckled. "Just trying to match your vibe."

Alex was dressed in a fitted gray sweater under a worn leather jacket that matched her brown boots. Her perfume filled the car, a subtle scent that somehow made him feel calmer.

"Vila Nova de Gaia, right?" JJ asked, tapping the location into his GPS.

She nodded. "Yeah, it's at Praia da Baía."

He entered the address, turned up the radio, and they set off. The drive was mostly quiet, with both of them humming along to songs, sharing the occasional glance or laugh. The silence between them felt comfortable, the kind of silence that didn't need filling.

After twenty minutes, they arrived. Alex hopped out first, and JJ followed, locking the car behind him as he glanced around at the beach, now lit up with a string of lights and a distant thrum of music.

"Ready for some Super Bock?" she asked, flashing a grin.

"Oh yeah baby, always," he replied, pulling a joint from behind his ear and lighting it with a smirk. They shared a laugh and started walking toward the lively beach, blending into the crowd as the waves lapped against the shore.

Despite the lightness of the night, JJ's mind flickered back to the stranger in the shop earlier. He tried to push it aside, to enjoy the present. But years of looking over his shoulder had taught him that even in moments like this, vigilance was his best protection.

As they walked, he caught Alex glancing at him, her eyes warm and trusting. He liked her company, more than he wanted to admit, but he couldn't shake the feeling that trusting anyone too much could be dangerous. The chill of the evening air reminded him to stay cautious, but for now, he focused on the warmth of the moment, following Alex's laugh toward the lights of the beach party.

As they stepped onto the beach, the ocean breeze greeted them with a cool, salty tang, tugging at their clothes and threading through their hair. They headed straight to the makeshift bar nestled between tiki torches and strings of lights that cast a warm, flickering glow over the sand. JJ felt a sense of anticipation buzzing in his veins. It had been too long since he'd felt anything close to excitement like this—too long since he'd let himself just be.

"Alright, let's start slow," Alex said with a playful grin, leaning over the bar to order two Super Bock beers. The bartender cracked open two bottles, sliding them her way, and she passed one to JJ, who was taking a leisurely drag from his joint.

They walked down closer to the water, their feet sinking into the cool sand as they moved away from the music and noise, finding a large, flat rock by the shore. Sitting down, they had a perfect view of the waves crashing in rhythm against the rocks, illuminated in part by the moonlight. JJ exhaled a soft sigh, a genuine smile spreading across his face. The sound of the waves felt calming, like a lullaby he hadn't known he needed.

He took a sip of his beer, feeling the chill of it spread through him. "Man, this... this is so peaceful," he murmured, his voice almost lost in the sound of the surf.

"I know," she replied, her voice soft, her gaze fixed on the ocean. "I come here to clear my head sometimes. Just listen to the waves... it feels like they're washing everything away." She took the joint from him, took a slow, steady drag, and passed it back.

JJ took a slow sip of his beer, letting the cool bitterness settle on his tongue as he stared out at the ocean. It had been a long time since he'd felt this calm. Even when he was with his friends—his compass through all the chaos—they had always been running, always looking over their shoulders, always scared for their lives. There was no time to breathe, let alone reflect. But now, here on this quiet stretch of coastline, there were no enemies, no rush, no fear. Just the steady rhythm of the waves, the faint rustle of the breeze, and the warmth of Alex sitting beside him. They weren't talking, and they didn't need to. The joint passed between them, smoke curling up into the night sky, their silence speaking louder than words.

The moment stretched until Alex finally broke it, her voice soft and curious. "So, it's been what, two years since you came from Australia, you said last time?" She turned her head toward him, her features illuminated by the silvery light of the moon.

JJ nodded, taking another sip of his beer. "Yeah," he said, his voice low, almost contemplative.

"So why did you choose Porto of all places?" she asked, her tone casual but genuinely curious.

He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I don't know. I heard it was calm, and cheap. I needed that at the time." He paused, glancing at her before looking back at the ocean. "But it's more than that. I can still do what I love—stay close to the ocean, go fishing, fix boats, sell bait. That's my kind of happiness." He chuckled lightly, meeting her gaze with a glimmer of amusement. "It's like having my old life in a new one, except..." He hesitated, his smile fading slightly. "I'm all alone."

Alex raised an eyebrow, her expression inquisitive. "But what's the point of starting a new life if you're still living like the old one you had?"

JJ smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You wouldn't understand, even if I told you," he said, his voice heavy with unspoken truths. He quickly shifted the focus back to her. "What about you? What do you like to do?"

Alex sighed, leaning back slightly on the rock. "Honestly? I don't know," she admitted. "I'm mostly alone because... I don't know, I just always feel like a freak around people. I like calm, but.. Sometimes I wouldn't mind a little chaos. Routine gets boring after a while » She laughed, but it was a short, self-deprecating sound.

JJ nodded, his expression softening

"I like being alone, but I also kind of crave people's attention," she admitted. "Does that make any sense?"

"It does," JJ said, his tone more serious than he intended. He held her gaze for a moment before smirking. "Seems like we're both freaks."

"Yep, we are," she said with a playful grin, raising her beer toward him. "Cheers to that."

They clinked bottles, and the sound was small but resonated in the quiet night.

"And you?" Alex asked, tilting her head. "Do you have any friends here? Or are they all back in Australia?"

JJ cleared his throat, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. "I told you, I don't have friends. I'm on my own." He shrugged, but there was an almost imperceptible tightness in his voice. "I enjoy my own company."

Alex studied him for a moment, then smiled faintly. "What about your family?"

JJ let out a small laugh, though it lacked humor. "We like each other best from afar. We always fight when we're too close."

Alex chuckled, shaking her head. "You're pretty mysterious, J'."

He chuckled back, the sound a little lighter this time. "Should I grab two more beers?"

She smirked. "Maybe a rum for me."

JJ raised an eyebrow, surprised but amused. "You don't look like someone who drinks rum."

Alex grinned mischievously. "I'm just trying to match your vibe."

He laughed, shaking his head as he stood. "Alright, one rum coming up."

At the bar, JJ ordered the drinks, his gaze wandering. His eyes caught on a man sitting by a fire pit, surrounded by laughter and chatter. Something about him seemed familiar. JJ frowned, realizing it was the same man who had been in his shop earlier. But now, the man was laughing, relaxed—a stark contrast to the wary demeanor JJ had clocked before.

JJ exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders. Maybe he was just being paranoid. After everything he'd been through, it was hard not to be. But maybe, just maybe, it was time to let his guard down. To start truly living this peaceful life he'd come all this way to find.

The barman slid two glasses of rum across the counter, and JJ carried them back to where Alex was waiting, her silhouette outlined against the moonlit waves.

"Here you go," he said, handing her a glass.

"Thanks," Alex said softly, her voice almost drowned by the sound of the waves. She raised her glass toward him, and they toasted again, the quiet moment stretching comfortably between them.

They sipped in silence, letting the rhythm of the ocean fill the space. Together, but still alone with their thoughts.

JJ glanced at her as she looked out over the water, her face lit softly by the moon. For a moment, he felt everything around him fade—the sounds of the party, the distant laughter and music—and all he saw was her. Alex, with her eyes bright and her hair catching in the breeze, looking as though she belonged right there, woven into the fabric of the night. She seemed both serene and strong, like she carried her own secret burdens but had found a way to bear them with grace.

Their eyes met, and he felt his heart jolt, a warmth stirring in his chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling, a mix of serenity and a kind of fear he hadn't felt in a long time. Being with her felt like standing at the edge of something vast and uncharted. Part of him wanted to pull back, to protect himself, to keep his walls up. He hadn't let anyone close in years—not since everything fell apart, not since he'd learned that trust could be a dangerous game.

But with her... there was something different. Something that whispered to him, urging him to let his guard down, if only a little. She held a kindness in her eyes that softened the edges of his fear, made him want to lean into the moment. But even as he fought that instinct, he found himself inching closer, his heart racing against his better judgment.

"Thank you for inviting me tonight," he said softly, realizing the words were genuine.

Alex's gaze softened. "I'm glad you came." She offered a small, knowing smile. "I know it's... it's not easy to let people in. To let your guard down."

He felt a pang of surprise at her words. She seemed to understand him, maybe more than he understood himself. JJ felt a strange mix of comfort and unease, and yet he couldn't look away.

A gust of wind swept through, carrying the salty scent of the ocean between them. As the waves crashed in the background, she slowly reached out, taking his hand in hers. It was an instinct, a moment of connection that felt as natural as breathing. Her fingers intertwined with his, warm and reassuring, and for the first time in what felt like ages, JJ felt the weight of his past lighten, just a little.

In that quiet, moonlit space, with the waves as their witness, JJ felt himself daring to hope. He didn't know if he was ready, didn't know if he could trust again fully. But in that moment, he let himself feel—just a little bit more than he had before.

"I know your dad is a fisherman," JJ said, his voice low and thoughtful as he swirled the rum in his glass. He paused for a moment, watching the way the moonlight danced across the waves, then turned to Alex with a curious glint in his eyes. "Have you ever been fishing?"

Alex's face lit up, her expression shifting from casual to genuinely amused. She let out a laugh, warm and bright, a sound that seemed to blend effortlessly with the crash of the waves. "No, never," she admitted, shaking her head as her smile widened. "Can you believe that? A fisherman's daughter who's never held a fishing rod." Her tone was playful, but there was a hint of self-deprecation in her words.

JJ's lips curved into a soft, genuine smile, and for a moment, he simply looked at her, as if taking in the surprising contradiction. "Let's change that," he said, his voice carrying a quiet determination. "Let's go fishing tomorrow."

Alex blinked, caught off guard by his sudden proposition, but then her surprise melted into excitement. "Really?" she asked, her eyes lighting up like a child being offered a long-awaited treat.

"Yeah," he said, his gaze steady and warm. "I'll show you how to cast a line, maybe even reel in a big one. We'll take the boat out early, just us and the water. It's peaceful, you'll see."

Her smile softened, a flicker of something more vulnerable passing across her face before she nodded. "I'd love to," she said, her voice quieter now, almost as if she were afraid the moment might slip away if she spoke too loudly.

JJ grinned, a boyish charm breaking through his usual guarded demeanor. "Alright then, it's a plan," he said, raising his glass slightly. "But I warn you, it's not all serene sunsets and gentle waves. Fishing takes patience."

Alex laughed again, the sound carrying into the night. "I think I can handle it," she teased, nudging him lightly with her shoulder.

"Good," JJ replied, leaning back against the rock and gazing out at the ocean. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stir within him—a quiet anticipation, not just for tomorrow, but for the idea of sharing something he loved with someone who might come to love it too.

[grollow]

What are your opinions on the pale king?

Oh boy. Uhm. This feels like a massively loaded question considering that I know that Pale King-related discourse is very common in this fandom but I'm feeling brave today so let's go. Prepare for a long reply, anon, hope you're ready for Ashe to actually write their headcanons on main.

Well first off, I think the fandom does the character a grievous injustice the majority of the time, which is exceedingly frustrating considering that he’s one of the few characters in the game to have any nuance at all. The majority of the fandom either goes out of their way to demonize him (by far the most common sentiment, which is infuriating), or they make him way too sympathetic and/or try to excuse/write off/defend/redeem him for the horrible things that he’s done in the events of the game. Both of these stances ignore that the character is layered like an onion and deserves to be treated as such.

I’m gonna address the demonizing thing first, because it’s more common in fanfiction which is where the majority of my followers found me, and is also where the mass of my experience can be found. Demonizing PK as “ruthless, evil baby killer” ignores the fact that he was put into a no-win situation as king of a kingdom that was entirely reliant upon him (whether by his choice or not is unclear, canon makes it obvious people are inclined to follow wyrms but we do not know for sure if this is something he wanted or just incidental). His own dialogue and actions show us that everything he did, he did with a heavy heart. He did not do these things to be cruel, he did not do these things thoughtlessly, and he certainly did not do these things and forget about them.

PK in essence was presented with next to no options to defeat an enemy that was willing to stop at nothing to get what she wanted; she was willing to kill countless people, with no thought for what all she harmed and damaged along the way. He was king and responsible for those people’s lives. He had to do something.

We don’t know what he knew going into the vessel plan. Based on Monomon’s studies, and the Pale King’s own, we can assume that he probably tried other options. We have wingmoulds and kingsmoulds to show us that he absolutely was experimenting with void before he reached the conclusion of sacrificing his own children. He had to have come to the conclusion that this was the only option that he had. Based on the seal on the Abyss, it’s one that he regretted, found disgusting, and if you take his death in White Palace to be from guilt (which I do), it’s one that he never forgave himself for. “No cost too great.”

Vessels by design are supposed to be empty. I do not think this design choice was to be cruel. I think he tried to design them not to feel not only to protect them from Radi but also to protect them from experiencing what he was asking of them. And I truly, 100% believe that by the end, he realized he’d failed. That Hollow was not empty. He just had no other option, his grand be-all end-all plan was relying on their success.

(Note: My headcanon is that World Sense is PK’s apology to Hollow, in his own way. I also headcanon that PK foresaw Hallownest being saved in one of / all of the endings, and all of them involved Hollow having to be sacrificed. I believe that he died of guilt for doing what he thought he had to.)

So with all of this in mind, though: How can you demonize him for a choice that he made, that was a no-win situation? Is it a wrong choice? Probably. Were there better options? We’ll never know. What we do know is it is not one he made lightly. He knew his acts were monstrous. He did not go into these decisions thinking himself a hero. He locked himself away afterwards and it ate away at him slowly. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. He lost everything in an attempt to save his kingdom from dying to the Radiance. Whether you like him or not, you have to acknowledge the fact that he did think that his plan would save his people. That his end goal was a good one.

(And I will not get into arguments about colonizing / conquering / etc. I do not think this is usually a source of discourse, but when it does come up, it’s usually in defense of the Radiance, who is as guilty as he is of the same damn shit. @ruthlesslistener wrote a post on that subject that I’m sure I’ve reblogged. There’s no point in me repeating it.)

So with that in mind, you might be asking yourself, “So are you not a PK apologist?” And the answer is no. He’s done fucking horrible shit and I am not sorry at all for him. I do not pity him. I do not think he deserves forgiveness. I do not think he deserves to be redeemed. There’s a big difference between understanding the reason a character does something and agreeing with it. Most of the time, when people try to redeem him, it is either erasing the whole baby pit thing (either by time travel or just simply saying it Never Happened), or altering Hollow’s perception of that act (as if they are the only one who was hurt by that act). In the case of the former, you are no longer writing the Pale King. You are writing a wyrm shaped guy. The choices he made exist for a reason. Wiping them out, without good cause, drastically alters his character. I understand people think he has a cool design/character motif, he does. But that’s not even the tip of the iceberg of what makes him an interesting character.

He isn’t a villain.

He isn’t a hero.

And he would not want you to redeem him. He sure as fuck didn’t try to redeem himself.

Let him be morally gray. That’s what makes him a fun character to write and an excellent plot device to include. Let him be complicated. He deserves at least that much.

[missis-maple394]

THE KNIGHT AND HORNET: THE HOLLOWEEN 2023 ILLUSTRATION

DO NOT REPOST / EDIT / TRACE / MONETIZE MY ART FROM OTHER SITES.

Art prompt version can be shared without credit only. Please link the artwork from the artist’s post for standalone illustration.

Author’s comment:

Hello! This is my illustration & typography work by @windowshark; for Hollow Knight’s Discord event for artists, HOLLOWEEN 2023 ART PROMPT. What is that? It’s an October daily art prompts based on Hollow Knight’s theme!

While it can be overwhelming to finish it at once in everyday work, doing it for one or few prompts you like is good enough! It can be anything with styles such as sketches, different mediums, and cleaning-up! I’m looking forward to see everyone’s amazing submissions for this year. Good luck and have fun!

Here’s the illustration depicted as The Knight’s wearing the miniature horned skull, sticking the staff with long coat to disguise as a ghostly visitor! Hornet is dressed as a scarlet phantom wedding gown, flower crown with roses and thorns and tulle needle! They came here to greet for trick or treat! Happy HOLLOWEEN EVERYBODY!!

Author’s note:

Do not start a roleplay/venting/fanfiction using replying / reblogging / DMs with my artworks.

Do not tag and marked as a kin/me/morally questionable content etc.

DO NOT claim my artworks belong to you, and removing / cropping my watermarks away.

Please DM me for inquiries such as commissioned work or reporting my artwork has been reposted or edited.

[the-pen-pot]

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Current Main Project

King & Court (Merlin:) - Loneliness is an insidious thing. When Merlin looks at Arthur, he sees not just a prince waiting for his time to rule, but a young man struggling to find his place in the world, with little help from anyone else. Finding loopholes in Uther’s laws is no easy feat. Court life is a dangerous game, but it’s one Merlin has every intention of winning so that Arthur can have knights of his choosing by his side. And then there is the matter of his magic…

(Posting on AO3. Advanced chapters updating weekly on Patreon - $2 and up; drafts of an additional 20+ chapters - $5 and up)

Current Draft WiPs ($5 and up, first chapter free to read):

Sigh No More (Merlin) - Prince Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the Llamrei, would far rather spend his days patrolling Camelot's Waters than assume his place on the throne. Yet when he finds the wreckage of a vast ship and one lone survivor on board, nothing can prepare him for the path his life will lead, nor the demands his heart will make.

Love Is Never Lost (Merlin) - Uther Pendragon has never approved of Arthur’s friendship with Merlin. There had been disappointed sighs and whispered warnings, but Arthur had never thought it would come to this: scars on Merlin’s back and a manservant made hollow and thin by cruelty. When Merlin disappears, Arthur is left questioning the true honour of the crown and the value of a kingdom forever stained by his father’s tyranny. Will he answer the call of duty, or will he sacrifice everything to chase the cries of his heart?

What We Might Be (Merlin) - When Arthur succumbs after the Battle of Camlann, he is given a choice: to go to his rest and rise again, or to try and set the path of his destiny right once and for all. Will he and Merlin be able to work together to correct the mistakes of their past, or were they always doomed to tragedy?

L'Appel Du Vide (Sherlock) - Hunters were a rarity. In fact, there was really only one family that knew what they were doing and became a name to fear, but the last Van Helsing had died in 1886. Well, the last male Van Helsing, anyway. Still, that did not mean their unique genetic gifts had not been passed down the female line, holding steady and sure even Sherlock is a vampire, John is a Van Helsing. What could possibly go wrong?

Guard Of Diocletian (Sherlock) - 'What's his Shift?' John asked, frowning to himself. Sherlock had not mentioned anything about another form. That in itself was not unusual. A lot of people were rather private about their alternative shapes. It was frowned upon to ask someone outright what creature they were when changed, but Mike was like him, baseline, and if he was going to live with this man then he needed to know what he could wake up to find one morning. Shedding on the furniture was one thing, but he had no real desire to find a strange, threatening animal in the living room one day.

Where The Heart Is (Hobbit) - 'There was an attack. Raiders. There was no warning of their coming.' Gandalf sighed: the broken sound of someone who has failed in their duty of care. 'They took everything they could carry, and burned everything they could not. Bilbo is not among those who live.'

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[scarletspades666]

LOCKED AWAY HEART

A heart encased in frost so deep,

Where once love dared, now shadows creep.

From wounds that cut, her strength was sown,

She built her throne of cold, alone.

Betrayal’s chill turned flame to stone,

A crown she bore for none to own.

Power grew in hollowed halls,

Where feelings slept behind frozen walls.

Read more....

[duckprintspress]

Saturday Releases: All-New Stories by Nicola Kapron and Annabeth Lynch!

This week, we’re welcoming in spring with two very nature-oriented tales: one of the forest, grown wild and out of control, and one of the creatures that play amidst the fireflies during a hot summer night.

Dead Man’s Bells by Nicola Kapron

Dark Fantasy, M/NB, Demonic Possession (Voluntary)

The vines were alive. They writhed like snakes as he ran a hand over them. As one, they untangled themselves from the shrouded shape of the spear. A few even dropped off entirely and nudged at his ankles. Underneath, the weapon gleamed with the soft, wet shimmer of fresh growth.

Around it, he could make out the silhouette of something that was almost human. Luminous green eyes. Roots wrapped tightly into the shape of arms, legs, musculature. Foxglove flowers blooming in the hollow of a throat.

A forest demon persisting long after it had been cut down and sanded into a useful shape.

Beautiful, Liam thought. This feeling might be awe. If he didn’t need to keep moving forward, toward it, he would have fallen to his knees.

For a moment, the ringing paused, and the vines slowed in their movements. “I am not dead,” said the voice that wasn’t his own. “You did not kill me. Even like this, you cannot tame me. Raise me, and I will live again.”

Follow Liam as his life intertwines with that of the verdant growth possessing the basement of his family’s manor. Read Dead Man’s Bells now!

-

Away With the Fairies by Annabeth Lynch

Modern with Magic, Siblings and Family, Fae/Fairy Kidnapping (Consensual)

“Why do the lightning bugs only fly up?” I asked Linda.

“Not all of them do. But this kind produces light as they fly. They’re sending signals to the others,” she said, coming to look at the ones I grabbed. “They’re telling each other things with the lights.”

“Like what?”

“Like what kind they are, or if they’re boys or girls, or whether they want to have babies. They talk by flashing. That’s why they blink.”

“What about that one?” I pointed at a fast-moving one. “That one isn’t blinking at all.”

Linda looked at the one I pointed at. She watched it for a long time, waiting for its light to blink off.

It didn’t.

What have Linda and her sister Suzy found amidst the fireflies (spoilers…it might be in the title…)? Read Away With the Fairies and find out!

-

Love works featuring nature spirits, fae, and fairyfolk? These two aren’t the only ones in our catalog! Check out our anthologies Add Magic to Taste, He Bears the Cape of Stars, and She Wears the Midnight Crown, or…

Let the Solstice Come by D. V. Morse (historical with magic, elementals are enslaved by humans, rebellion)

The Fairy Garden by Rhosyn Goodfellow (modern with magic, child point of view, fae and fairyfolk)

A Glimmer of Hope by Nina Waters (modern with magic, m/m, novel-length, angst with a happy ending)

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[the-fangirl-diaries]

Nine (or so) People You Want to Get to Know Better:

Tagged by: @runnning-outof-time (thanks for tagging me!) 

Last Song: What A Life by Scarlet Pleasure. Every time I listen to it, it automatically makes me happy and it gets me moving! I’ll put a link here in case you wanna listen. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0Hsxrl6wYc

Currently Watching: The Hollow Crown (not because of the plot. *wink wink*)

Currently Reading: Fanfiction, lol. I am doing more writing than reading at the moment. Hoping to pick up this newer book called A Kind of Spark and give it a read because I just finished the show and I cannot emphasize enough how much I love it. 

Current Obsession: Lots, lol. The Sandman and Peaky Blinders are my main 2 at the moment so anyone who wishes to talk about them with me, my DMs are always open. :) 

BONUS: 

Last movie I watched: The Secret of Moonacre. I kept getting edits on Tiktok and decided to give it a watch. It’s such fun!! 

Tagging some of my mutuals and friends who might wanna join in if they haven’t already: 

@forgottenpeakywriter @look-at-the-soul @toweroftickles @safarigirlsp @emmaarenstarr @incorrect-koh-posts @eternalstrigoii @zablife @izabesworld

[queen-paladin]

I love The Twelve Days Chapter Five (Henry V x Fem! reader miniseries). I love the Queen refusing the King having a mistress. I love how the Queen threatens the court and the King.

Hello friend! :) Thank you!! I'm so glad you enjoyed The Twelve Days (Those of you who don't follow my side blog @smolvenger it's an arranged marriage fanfic miniseries based on The Hollow Crown and Shakespeare's Henry IV/Henry V with Henry V/Reader) and I loved writing that chapter!

You can Read it on Tumblr Here.

Or On Archive of Our Own Here

(*sigh* Tom Hiddles is so dreamy as Hal/Henry V. Timothee Chalamet WISHES)

But I wanted Reader to go from super timid and all "please don't hurt me, my lord!" to standing up and speaking about something she doesn't like. That way she grows into her power as queen and becomes more proactive. It also is a sign she genuinely loves Henry and would be heartbroken if he cheated on her (which he never does)

You had had enough. You could not let this happen. You could not smile and care only for his happiness and not your own. That because he was a man with a cock his own "needs" trumped your well-being and peace of mind. No, no, you could not take this. Not one bit. You couldn’t just stand there and let this happen anymore.

It also means Henry and Reader learn to navigate the public roles of King and Queen with the private roles of Husband and Wife as they learn to love each other. And Henry realizes he respects and even loves her enough to agree to her command to forbid mistresses. In the original play, he does tell Catherine "take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy, for he has not the gift to woo in other places" in the Courtship scene of Henry V.

He then spoke.

“I will confirm my wife’s wishes and we will adhere to them. I will not have a mistress during my reign. If I must be celibate when she is with child, so be it.”

You went back to sit on the chair. Your pulse was racing as if you managed to successfully escape a bear, and yet part of you was upright like the creature would roar and attack you again at any minute.

The last bit was a shout-out to The Winter's Tale Plus, I'm proud of this bit

Still in that anger, you removed your shoe and flung it towards his head. Despite his tall height, Henry ducked out of the way of the shoe.

“IF you-“

You flung the other shoe at his face.

“-Ever- “

You threw a pillow at him. He began to back off.

“-Have-”

The next pillow. It landed on his face.

“-a mistress- “

Another pillow.

“-I will- “

The next pillow came at him, which he dodged.

“-Kill you-“

Then the next one. Another dodge.

“-BOTH!”

Masterlist for the whole series for those curious can be found here

[smolvenger]

The Twelve Days (Henry V x fem! Reader Miniseries), Chapter One

Summary: "You, luckiest of girls, are betrothed to none other than the king of England!"

You celebrate the Twelve days- from Christmas to New Year- in your role as queen in an arranged marriage to King Henry V. How will you cope with your new role? And what about your husband?

Warnings: Eventual Smut starting in Part Two, Arranged Marriage, discussions of Sexual Assault but no attacks, impolite courtiers, marriages, families, Henry's codpiece is mentioned and he is an actual dick for a hot second but gets better bc you get to call him out on it.

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Summary: This was inspired by Lucy Worsely's documentary "The Twelve Days of Tudor Christmas" plus some of the tidbits I learned about the reading about royal life in that era. Yes, I know some of these practices come from that era 100 years after Henry V but it's my fic and I can do what I want.

COMMENTS, KUDOS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORK ARE APPRECIATED!

Your eyes were drooping, fighting the urge to close them. You fought the urge to yawn at such a sacred space as Midnight Mass. But especially considering the crown on your head and hearing your husband’s slow exhales next to you, you made yourself in the present, listening to the words. At least the chill of the castle chapel and the light touch of the necklace you wore kept you awake.

All of December you had to prepare for the Christmas season with fasting. Even the king, your husband, Henry V had to.

Husband- the word felt new.

Months ago, it was announced suddenly that you had to travel to London. Your parents hugged and kissed you in deep congrats.

“Why, what is it?” you asked.

“Y/N, you’re betrothed!”

“Betrothed!? To whom?”

“You, luckiest of girls, are betrothed to marry none other than the King of England!” your mother cheered.

 Your heart leaped in your chest and the room spun. Were you even awake?

“Henry Bolingbroke? But he’s an old man now and quite sick!” you cried

“No- haven’t you heard? He’s dead and his son, Hal, is the king! Not Henry the Fourth- You’re going to marry Henry the Fifth!” your father explained with excitement.

You had never met him.

You heard all the stories concerning Prince Hal. He was apparently a wild boy- who frequented taverns, placed prostitutes on his lap and wore their favors to jousts, and enjoyed playing pranks with thieves. He could put Bacchus to shame with the chaos he would get into.  For a time, he rarely appeared in court due to preferring his revels late at night with the seedy company and getting drunk. And now this wild, drinking, philandering, troublemaker was not only the new king of England but your husband!

You could hardly speak when you joined the carriage with your parents for your first meeting. The whole ride seemed to last forever and you were sweating beneath your nicest pink dress.

 Your heart was beating as hard as if you were running and you felt sick with nerves entering the palace. There was a flourish with footsteps like a march. The door was open and a loud voice announced: “His royal majesty, Henry the Fifth.”

God, protect me! You thought in terror. You looked it up.

Imagine your delight that it was a young, attractive man. He was clearly sober. Surely better than marrying either an old man or a partying drunkard.

“Lady Y/L/N, I greet you, most fair lady. I bid you welcome,” he said.

“Your majesty,” you replied with a bow along with your parents.

 He offered you his hand and you accepted it. And in yours he placed a little wildflower that you took.

“May I kiss your hand and call you my queen?” he asked politely.

Swallowing, you nodded your head. You reached out your hand and he accepted it, bowing down his head, you saw the combed back curls hidden under his crown. He kissed it lightly.

“It is our advice for the wedding to be as soon as possible. Before the fasting of Advent…and the sooner you have an heir, the better.” An older man, the Chief Justice, suggested.

“Then let it be so,” Henry replied.

An awkward dinner passed and that was that. The next time you would see him would be your wedding day, now set to November.  

Besides, the more cynical side of your brain thought, you were being brought in as no more than a glorified broodmare for England. A pretty accessory for the king. Once you squeezed out a son, you thought, he would toss you away for a mistress. But such thoughts you dared not tell your parents or family who all saw you as the shining star of their family for propelling them to royalty at the price of your maidenhead. And there was one upside to being Queen Consort- it relieved you of the harder choices and responsibilities that any king or any ruler would have, you thought.

November and the Wedding arrived. You couldn’t sleep the night before. You were brought to that same chapel in a pretty white dress befitting a queen. You felt like a child playing dress up. You couldn’t believe that every eye on the country was on you as the bishop placed your hand on Henry’s and made the sign of the cross over you two. The ceremony ended in a daze.

Your stomach churned so much you couldn’t eat much of the feast. You understood what was coming and the horror stories relayed to you from almost every woman you knew. And from the quick glances you had at Henry’s codpiece, it was going to hurt.

 When the whole party followed you finally to your chambers and you were brought to that large stone room with the king’s bed- not your own private room for the queen- you wanted to cry from fear. That same bishop made the sign of the cross again at the bed. Once it was where Henry IV’s lifeless body was placed and now you knew you had to be placed there like a lamb on the altar, awaiting the knife.

 A few ladies in waiting- women of high status you knew you could trust- took off the tiara placed on your head and removed the ring from your finger. A few male servants began to undress Henry. Yet the court, many of whom were men, kept their eyes on you when the ladies moved onto the skirt of your wedding gown. They seemed to watch as one lady in waiting began to lift the skirt, showing some of your leg when…

“Please bring a screen,” the king ordered.

A screen was shuffled in to allow you privacy to change into night clothes. You stepped out, the cold stone floor touching your bare feet as you stood in your shift. You began to shiver.

Henry turned to you.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord,” you replied.

He took a black fur coat that was draped over a chair and placed it over you. His hands on your shoulders felt warm. He led you to sit on the chair near the writing desk.

“Now the rest of you- please leave the room…and do not stay at the door if you are not the guards…” he then said.

“But your majesty, we must make sure the marriage is consummated. You could at most close the drapes around the bed, but we must make sure you do your duty to your wife. For St. George and the sake of-“

“Yes, that is tradition. But seeing as I am the king now, here is a new one. I ask that all of you leave and go to your own rooms.” Henry protested.

They looked at each other in confusion.

“But how will we know if-“

“I’m sure once we discover she is pregnant, you will know the marriage is consummated. Now leave!”

They bowed their heads and left.

He walked up to you, and you backed off. But he held up a hand.

“Don’t be afraid, my lady,” he offered.

You heard the last footsteps of the courtiers vanish into the hallway. They gossiped and it rang through the halls, until it melted into nothing.

You took it and said, “I know you want me to…to…sleep with you.”

“Well, is that what you want? Do you want me to have you done tonight?” he asked.

“It’s what’s expected of us…” you answered meekly.

He scratched at his cleanly shaven chin.

“But is it what you want?” he asked.

You blinked. His own large hands overpowered your own, but they were soft.

“No…no I don’t want to…I’m not ready yet…” you confessed.

“Then you don’t need to worry. Nothing will happen tonight…” he assured you.

He let your hands go to gesture to a small table where there was a large jug

here- they gave us spiced wine for us to share. Have a cup.”

He poured you a generous amount and you sipped at it.

“You didn’t eat anything at the feast. Would you like me to ask for a plate?” he suggested.

“Yes, my lord.”

He opened the door and whispered to a guard. The coat almost drowned you in it’s size, but it was warm. Like petting the pelt of a black bear. Henry closed the door again.

“Thank you for the cloak…” you said.

“It used to be my father’s. And he was always cold.” He commented.

“My lord …what should I call you?” you asked.

“Henry will do for now…you can call me Harry. Maybe Hal later…what would you like me to call you?”

You gave him the name you wanted to be called and he repeated it.

 The terror of being raped gone, your appetite returned to you. You enjoyed the cup of spiced wine and although the plate of leftovers was tasty despite being cold.

Henry went to the desk full of papers.

“I have some letters to write…you seem tired, Y/N. It was a long day. When you’re done, you can sleep in my bed.”

You glanced at the bed, sitting in it and draping off the black cloak.

“You’re being kind to me, why?” you asked.

Both of you knew that you were now considered property of the most powerful man in the world. He had the right to do whatever he wanted with you whenever he wanted…and he was not doing anything.

“Because I don’t want to be hated. This was forced on me as much as on you. I can at least make your life my wife not a misery. I pity you, I guess,” he explained.

You settled into the sheets, resting your head against a large, round pillow placed before the square ones.

“Henry where are you going to sleep tonight?” you asked.

“I’ll crawl in later. Don’t be nervous- but it’s big enough. I won’t be able to touch you…” he said,

“What if I never want you to touch me?” you asked curiously.

He turned to you and got his own cup of wine, raising it.

“I think I know of an abbey that will let me in. I’ll become bald and fat and join them,” he said with a smile.

You fell asleep deeply and quickly. Once you woke up, you were ushered in.

And here you were today. In a far grander chapel than the one you were used to. But instead of praying with your family, you were leaning your head down to pray next to your husband. He gave you a kiss on the hand as a good night before your servants ushered you back to your separate rooms and beds left for a royal and still unconsummated marriage.

------------------------------------------

The First Day of Christmas

The first day was a feast. It was a smaller party away from the prying eyes of the court. The party consisted of you, Henry, his three brothers, and his “favorites”- the Chief Justice, Warwick, and Lord Exeter. The room was a smaller stone room with a long walkway and a window to the cold outside world. You missed your family and celebrated the twelve days of Christmas with them. If only you knew it would be your last celebration together then! Now, here you were with a new family you were not at all familiar with- and the only woman at the table too!

You were amazed that the table was decorated with a peacock and a swan as if they were not killed but frozen in their place as they glazed over a pond. Before you placed a large Mince pie. You looked over and saw that there was his crest along with HR- Henry Rex or King Henry. It was so large you wondered why the table didn’t break from the weight of it!

The King was served first, the tenderest choice of slices of pie. Though there was a variety of meat.

“Did you miss eating meat all month, Henry?” you asked.

He nodded his head, “yes, I did. I almost forgot the taste of it and cheese. May I ask, Y/N, have you ever tried eel before?”

“I have not,” you said.

He poked his plate closer.

“Here- it’s my favorite fish to try on Christmas Day. Different from any other I’ve had. Give it a taste, tell me what you think!”

You poked your fork into it. It was light, but firm and with a little sweetness.

“It’s not bad!” you commented.

You felt a poke and saw it was one of the king’s brothers, John. A young, handsome man with cheekbones like his brother and a crop of soft, dark brown hair.

“My lady, save room on your plate. They’re about to present The Boar…”

“Will they sing the carol The Boar’s Head? I like that one!” you replied, nearly popping in your seat.

You heard your husband confirm “They will.”

But you saw his face turn white. His blue eyes lowered to the plate before him.

Soon a group of servants in fine robes and large hats with feathers walked in with a large platter over their shoulders with a roasted boar on it. One young man in green stepped forward, exhaled deep in his belly, and began to sing that jaunty tune in a bright baritone.

“The Boar’s head as I understand is the rarest dish in all the land!”

You smiled and tapped your foot to the beat of the familiar song. Everyone was nodding along, gazing at how the Boar’s head they brought had oranges in its eyes. The gold on it’s tusks gleamed from the candlelight. By the third verse you noticed the whole table was smiling…except Henry.

There was applause and it was brought in front of his plate and carved.

“Here, my lord, the choicest meats for you!” the servant boasted.

“Save some of these choice meats for the others- especially the queen. She is new here and should be welcomed.” He requested.

You glanced and you nodded your head in thanks. A tender part of the pork was cut off and brought to your plate.

“Thank you though…what troubles you, Henry?” you asked.

Since the feast was more private, you did not have to call him “my lord” but his name. That was one relief on your part.

“The Boar’s Head was name of the tavern I used to frequent…” he confessed.

His brothers perked up, listening. John’s jaw tightened.

“I heard about your youth, Henry. Do you miss it?” you asked innocently.

Part of you flinched, perhaps that was too personal. Even among his brothers. But you could hardly believe those same stories again.

“If I must be honest, a little…I let it go. I banished those from that tavern away from me….” He said.

There was silence for a minute. What could you say?

“It was the right thing to do, I think. But I imagine it was hard. But it is your right to banish a bad influence.” You reasoned gently.

You saw his fist was clamped in agony. There was a clanking of forks and knives as the others continued to eat.  Gently, you placed your hand over it. You felt it relax beneath you.

“Have you tried the boar, husband?” you asked.

“I…I haven’t.”

“It’s delicious. You should eat at least a little…it helps with nerves if I recall correctly” you said.

There was a shared look and you saw him smile, realizing that this time the roles were reversed. He began to stab his fork into the boat meat and eat it.

Although you were quite full, you saw there was still plenty of food on the table by the time the servants arrived to pick it up.

“What happens to the leftovers?” you asked curiously.

“They’re doles,” John explained. “We take them and distribute them to the poor outside the castle waiting for it…”

You turned to Henry and the servants “may I…may I help distribute them?” you asked.

Heads turned to you.

“You wish to hand out food to those without name?” Henry asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“But they’re only peasants,” he responded.

“They’re our people. They aren’t animals. If we’re good to them, they’ll follow us even more,” you replied.

“Majesty, it is not the usual fashion for you to do so…” the Lord of Exeter protested.

“I’d…I’d like to help. It’s Christmastide, after all. It’s right to do. It’s the feast of Christ’s Birth. It’s what He would do,” you explained.

“You aren’t wrong,” Henry said.

What was the good of being part of the most powerful family in the country if you couldn’t use it to help anyone? Besides, you had to count yourself extremely lucky that you had a large feast in a warm palace with servants to cater to your every whim. That was more than so many could dream of.

They looked to the king, who nodded.

“You shall…” he permitted.

He turned to the servants.

“Ask the ladies in waiting to give her a cloak for warmth. Make sure she isn’t harmed,” he asked the servants.

“Thank you, Henry” you said.

There was a small urge inside you. From how gentle he was to you on your wedding night, to how he was the opposite of what you expected, and now how he insisted you be fed equal to him and had permission to do what you wanted, a tenderness overcame you for Henry. You wanted to take his face and give him a kiss on the cheek from everything he had done- yes, even despite the peasant comment. But it would be too forward even in front of the smaller party. It was an action reserved for the privacy of husband and wife in their chambers. In gratitude, you merely clutched his hand and squeezed it and he let you.

You walked out, not noticing how Henry’s smile followed you out.

Once you were bundled up, you held a large plate full of meat from the board and walked outside. Hundreds of peasants, some in mere rags despite the cold, were shocked.

“Make way for the queen! Approach her one by one!” guards barked.

The first was a young woman who seemed to be your age. One good look at her and you realized at a different time or if different choices were made, you could have been the one begging at the gate. The only real difference between you two was the clothes on your back. It chilled you as you handed out meat and she bowed before scurrying off.

Now these people had to bow before you and some even knelt with reverence as if you weren’t flesh and mortality as they. But you leaned down, and with some tools, gave some rations of meat to them before they moved onto the servant with bits of the pie. Then another servant who kept the beef and other choices of beef. Some were amazed that Henry served crayfish, eels, and porpoise at his feast and that there were leftovers, rushing to sample what they tasted like just from curiosity.

The smiles on their faces seeing you and the hundreds of “thank you’s” from their faces warmed your heart. Seeing each walk away with something on their plate, you sent out a prayer for their safe return to their homes, food intact.

Little did you know that from his window, Henry watched you for a while. Something moving inside of him to see you smile as you handed out the doles.

--------------------------------------------------------

The Third Day of Christmas

The snow was crisp, clean, and even the next day. Already your ladies in waiting were watching it as it fell outside in puffy drifts. It was late afternoon and finally there was some wintertime weather.

“I think the St. Stephen feast was better than the Christmas one!” one said.

“I have to agree with you on that,” you agreed.

You walked over to return to your sewing circle. You passed by a spinning wheel that- like with the rest of the castle- was decorated with holly and ivy. The vines prevented the wheel from turning practically-there was to be no work for anyone on the Twelve Days of Christmas except the busy servants of royalty.

“I don’t know if I can even eat at another feast!” another lady sighed.

“I second that!” you said, looking down at the embroidery you began.

“You will have to,” came a voice from a distance away.

All of you stood up to see before you Warwick. Heads bowed in courtesy. When it got closer to evening, one male servant or courtier would arrive to you to give you an account of how Henry’s day went.

“Your majesty, I came to give you the annual report of the King’s Day- he spent the morning riding as usual, following by some celebratory hunting with bow and arrow. He then paid respects to Richard and his father’s grave before taking some time to study.”

“Very well and good fares my lord, king, and husband, I am glad,” you replied dutifully.

“And speaking of feasting, there is something important he asks…”

You folded your hands in front of you.

“What is it?”

He took in a deep breath.

“The King has asked to dine with you tonight in your quarters.”

There was a silence that fell along the ladies. All of their eyes got big. You looked among them and then shrugged.

“Oh! That is all- that’s alright. He may!” you answered with casual cheerfulness.

There was a burst of giggles from one lady that she immediately silenced putting a hand over her mouth. They all stared at you.

“What…what is it…what…what does this mean?” you asked.

“You don’t know…” Warwick asked.

“I don’t know…”

He lowered his head and turned pink. One lady went over to you.

“When you accept the king’s invitation to dinner…it’s expected that you…bed him right after. The king is actually asking you to bed him tonight…” she whispered to you.

You looked back at her in amazement and then at Warwick. Then at the ladies.

“Do you…change your mind, my lady?” Warwick asked.

Shoulders tightening, hands clutching beneath their folded position in front of you, you looked at him and then nodded.

“He…he may…”

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2023-12-23

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Prince Hal/Henry V stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

❆ Twelve Days of Christmas￨Prt. II￨Prt. III￨Prt. IV￨Prt. V￨Prt. VI￨Prt. VII￨Prt. VIII￨ by smolvenger • 18+ • 〔F᜶A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You must face your first royal holiday celebration —the Twelve days from Christmas to Epiphany —for your first time as the bride and queen of the new, young King Henry V, a man you were arranged to marry, a man you hardly know."

❆ Green Sleeves by just-the-hiddles • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 •

Summary: "Hal should be at the royal residence for the holiday but is instead at a local inn with Falstaff and Poins. He has his eyes on you."

See Also: Navigation || Prince Hal/Henry V Master Index

Authors: @just-the-hiddles || @smolvenger ||

[starlit1daydream]

trying to articulate my thoughts here

generally speaking with heathers i try and think of ways to merge the movie and musical characterizations to get a bigger picture of the character

the problem is, duke has THE most drastic difference between the two

in the movie she's a timid bookworm and a genuine friend to veronica who gets manipulated by jd into taking chandler's crown

in the musical she's just a douchebag from day one and always 'the meanest heather' with no real personality beyond how much she's a cunt

generally speaking when trying to write for duke in a way that

A - makes her an interesting charactre in her own right

B - rings true with her canonical characterisation

there's a few ways you can go about it

you can have her primary conflict BE about her lack of substance and personality, there's some interesting ways to tie that into her bulimia (something the fandom grossly underrepresents with her)

you can incorporate the more intellectual aspect of her personality that shines through in the movie, which is what i tend to do because it provides something in common with veronica

and there's a lot to be said about her being a direct contrast to veronica's more idealistic worldview that people are capable of change - duke is the best way to provide that antithesis. write her as directly challenging veronica's compulsion to 'fix' people that we see with j.d.

and with the idea that duke is somewhat of a closet nerd from what we see in the movie combined with how little she actually seems to enjoy the party scenes in the musical until she gets a chance to bully martha

duke's mother paid for implants according to 'beautiful' and that's about all we hear - she's repeatedly trampled and stepped on by heather chandler when she tries to have an opinion and she seems used to this

the picture that forms in my head is of somebody who tried against all odds to prioritise academia when everybody else in her like told her to just sit there and look pretty

and in the end she just collapsed in the face of that pressure and submitted to that toxic, misogynistic culture and all of the unrealistic beauty standards that came with it. that's where so much of her body image issue comes from

we have her flattened to the point where she lacks any substance to herself and just mirrors heather chandler in an attempt to fit in and roll with the popular crowd. she's willingly stripping herself of any agency and surrendering to that hollow, vapid popularity

and once she gets the chance to take the spotlight and is blackmailed into usurping power by j.d. she goes completely out of control because it's been so LONG since she's felt like she's had any agency. she lashes out, continues the cycle of abuse that's been lumped onto her even if the victims of it (martha, veronica, ESPECIALLY mac) didn't do shit to her. "heather, why do you have to be such a mega-bitch?" says veronica. "because i can", replies duke.

is this a very different read from duke's fandom interpretations? probably. most people seem to narrow her down to just 'the asshole heather' or 'guys she's not actually the asshole heather! (provides no elaboration as to what other role she can fill in the narrative)

this is gratuitously long and probably directly contradicts a lot of what's said or implied in canon but at the end of the day if it results in good storytelling in any hypothetical fanfiction i could write down then i'd be willing to hear it out

tl;dr heather duke's body image issues and implied academic interest from the movies need to be focused on more in the fanbase, the musical kind of fucked up her character and people's perception of her and she's the logical direct antithesis to veronica.

its hard to explain but the way i characterize heather duke is just gifted kid burnout on steroids

[frostbitten-written]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Henry V - Shakespeare, Henry IV Part 1 - Shakespeare, Henry IV Part 2 - Shakespeare, Henry IV - Shakespeare, The Hollow Crown (2012), The Hollow Crown RPF Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tom Hiddleston & Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston & Original Female Character(s) of Color, Tom Hiddleston & Reader, Tom Hiddleston & You, Tom Hiddleston & Original Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/Original Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s) of Color, Tom Hiddleston/You, Henry V of England/You, Henry V of England/Other(s), Henry V of England/Reader, Henry V of England/Original Female Character(s), Henry V of England/Original Character(s) Characters: Tom Hiddleston, Henry V of England, Original Characters, Original Female Character(s), You, Reader Additional Tags: Actor Tom Hiddleston, Tom Hiddleston Is A Sweetheart, Dom Tom Hiddleston, Protective Tom Hiddleston, Tom Hiddleston Feels, Possessive Tom Hiddleston, The Hollow Crown: Henry V, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Royalty, United Kingdom, England (Country), War, Mentions of War, Battle of Agincourt, Hundred years' war, Bathing/Washing, Bath Sex, Bathtubs, Bathtub Sex, Married Couple, Married Sex, Naked Female Clothed Male, Naked Cuddling, Vaginal Fingering, Fingerfucking, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Forced Orgasm, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm, Simultaneous Orgasm, Cunnilingus, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Come Marking, Come as Lube, Come Sharing, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnancy, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Sex, Vaginal Sex, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Angst and Romance, Love, Feels, Porn with Feelings, Français | French, British, British English, British Empire, Mention of children, Romantic Angst, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Shameless Smut, Historical References, Historical Inaccuracy, Alternate History, Not Canon Compliant, I'm Sorry William Shakespeare

Summary:

King Henry V will be departing for battle on the morrow. He and his queen share one last night of passion, with hopes of conceiving.

Preview:

“Husband, please!” Henry smiled against her skin. His beard tickled the sensitive flesh. “Yes, my darling, wife?” His voice was deep and sensual yet ribald. She felt it rumble from deep within his chest, the sound vibrating against her back. There was nothing that Henry loved more than bringing his darling wife to the cusp of pleasure, only to pull her back. To him, the result is worth the patience and impatience, on her part. “Patience, my little queen. La petite mort will be worth the wait, don’t you agree?”

gif by @enchantedbyhiddles​

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[fkabradypnoea]

Restitution | Llewelley | One Shot - 9.2k - August 2014

You were just another servant working in the royal residence when the Prince of Wales took your innocence. Years later, the noble King Henry wishes to make it up to you somehow.

- Read on AO3 -

You would be lying to yourself if you claimed that you don’t think about it every time you see him, although you rarely get more than a glimpse of the man. He’s always away on foreign affairs or behind closed doors with his council, but on the odd occasion you spot him walking through the halls conversing with a statesman or across the courtyard alongside his page after dismounting his horse. Every single time he crosses your path, your head clouds with memories and heat rises to your face. You remind yourself that things are different now, that His Majesty is a dignified man, changed by war and by the years of scholarly pursuits that he had devoted himself to following the death of his good father. It’s just that in the few times you have caught him smiling since, you couldn’t help but notice the spark of mischief still alive in his eyes. You’ve been employed by the royal household as a laundress since the age of fifteen and from the very beginning you were warned to avert your eyes from the King’s sons and stay at a safe distance lest you become easy pickings like many serving girls and scullery maids before you. You were told to take cautions around the Prince of Wales in particular, as his playboy reputation preceded him throughout the country. Rumor had it also that he was remarkably attractive and charismatic, making his questionable morality even more cause for concern. You never even caught sight of him during your younger years because he was always out engaging in debauchery in London, or so you were told.

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