a/n : just a short knight x prince au! this was supposed to be a much longer angst fic but the plot didn’t work out (im almost convinced that some natural forces are preventing me from writing luci angst) so this is just an extract of what ive already written ^^
warning : none except for a swordfight and brief mentions of sickness
You had been a knight for as long as you could remember.
Your father was an esteemed fighter, chief commander of the army, and once the royal guard for the Queen. His fame followed you everywhere you went– This is the child of the greatest knight of our time. Will they outshine their father on the battlefield?
With this much expectation weighed on you, your father didn’t go soft on training you. You’d learnt how to hold a sword before you could hold a fork, and how to ride a horse before you could run. Memories of your childhood were laced with restless training, sweat raining on the grass, and the countless opponents pointing their weapons at you. Friends were a rarity. Kids your age were no match for your skills, and so they turned respect into jealousy.
“Pay them no mind,” your father said to you one night in the squires’ room, amidst the loud snoring. “If you are a warrior of true worth, others’ opinions will never beat you down.”
“But I want to have friends,” you argued.
“Your purpose is to become as good a knight as I am, not to play around.”
“That’s what youwant me to be. I want to make friends.”
Even in the dark, you could make out the creases on his forehead. “Does that mean that you want to live in this place and repeat the same cycles everyday until you die? Can you bear wielding your sword from dawn to dusk, without a purpose? You can make all the friends you want when you get yourself among the royals. And listen well when I tell you this: only the elites will be accepted.”
That was the last time you talked to him about your own wishes. As a matter of fact, it would be the last time you talked at all, for he would soon lose his life trying to rescue victims from an accidental fire. Many people, including the Queen, deemed him a martyr, the knight who loved his country till his very last breath. To you, he was just a father who cared for you in a way you couldn’t understand.
What happened after was a blur. You put in more effort in your training, until your fingers ached and your knees were bruised. A lot of that determination came not from grief, but rather the shame and rage of not feeling it at all.
Thanks to all the friends than shared the first chapter and commented, it was so wonderful to me and I really felt appreciated. It took me a month to update this webcomic, and I hope you like this one too.
In the land of Lamiroir, there lived a prince. Orphaned as an adolescent, it was decided that the kingdom would be run by the previous King’s advisor, Kristoph Gavin, in secret as King Regent until the Prince was of age.
But Lamiroir withered under the King Regent’s rule—crops stopped flourishing, sickness invaded the land, and misfortune spread like a plague—and because of this, the people of Lamiroir hated and attacked the Prince as if he were the one to make their lives so miserable. As the Prince’s twenty-fifth birthday and coronation crept nearer, the attacks worsened. To protect the Prince from these attacks, the King Regent summoned the noblest knight from an allied country to act as the Prince’s guard until the day the Prince would become King.
This is the story of Prince Apollo and his devoted Knight, Sir Klavier.
In the land of Lamiroir, there lived a prince. Orphaned as an adolescent, it was decided that the kingdom would be run by the previous King’s advisor, Kristoph Gavin, in secret as King Regent until the Prince was of age.
But Lamiroir withered under the King Regent’s rule—crops stopped flourishing, sickness invaded the land, and misfortune spread like a plague—and because of this, the people of Lamiroir hated and attacked the Prince as if he were the one to make their lives so miserable. As the Prince’s twenty-fifth birthday and coronation crept nearer, the attacks worsened. To protect the Prince from these attacks, the King Regent summoned the noblest knight from an allied country to act as the Prince’s guard until the day the Prince would become King.
This is the story of Prince Apollo and his devoted Knight, Sir Klavier.
In the land of Lamiroir, there lived a prince. Orphaned as an adolescent, it was decided that the kingdom would be run by the previous King’s advisor, Kristoph Gavin, in secret as King Regent until the Prince was of age.
But Lamiroir withered under the King Regent’s rule—crops stopped flourishing, sickness invaded the land, and misfortune spread like a plague—and because of this, the people of Lamiroir hated and attacked the Prince as if he were the one to make their lives so miserable. As the Prince’s twenty-fifth birthday and coronation crept nearer, the attacks worsened. To protect the Prince from these attacks, the King Regent summoned the noblest knight from an allied country to act as the Prince’s guard until the day the Prince would become King.
This is the story of Prince Apollo and his devoted Knight, Sir Klavier.
In the land of Lamiroir, there lived a prince. Orphaned as an adolescent, it was decided that the kingdom would be run by the previous King’s advisor, Kristoph Gavin, in secret as King Regent until the Prince was of age.
But Lamiroir withered under the King Regent’s rule—crops stopped flourishing, sickness invaded the land, and misfortune spread like a plague—and because of this, the people of Lamiroir hated and attacked the Prince as if he were the one to make their lives so miserable. As the Prince’s twenty-fifth birthday and coronation crept nearer, the attacks worsened. To protect the Prince from these attacks, the King Regent summoned the noblest knight from an allied country to act as the Prince’s guard until the day the Prince would become King.
This is the story of Prince Apollo and his devoted Knight, Sir Klavier.
As Klavier’s worries over Prince Apollo grow, he plans something special to help him unwind.
Fic Summary:
In the land of Lamiroir, there lived a prince. Orphaned as an adolescent, it was decided that the kingdom would be run by the previous King’s advisor, Kristoph Gavin, in secret as King Regent until the Prince was of age.
But Lamiroir withered under the King Regent’s rule—crops stopped flourishing, sickness invaded the land, and misfortune spread like a plague—and because of this, the people of Lamiroir hated and attacked the Prince as if he were the one to make their lives so miserable. As the Prince’s twenty-fifth birthday and coronation crept nearer, the attacks worsened. To protect the Prince from these attacks, the King Regent summoned the noblest knight from an allied country to act as the Prince’s guard until the day the Prince would become King.
This is the story of Prince Apollo and his devoted Knight, Sir Klavier.
In the land of Lamiroir, there lived a prince. Orphaned as an adolescent, it was decided that the kingdom would be run by the previous King’s advisor, Kristoph Gavin, in secret as King Regent until the Prince was of age.
But Lamiroir withered under the King Regent’s rule—crops stopped flourishing, sickness invaded the land, and misfortune spread like a plague—and because of this, the people of Lamiroir hated and attacked the Prince as if he were the one to make their lives so miserable. As the Prince’s twenty-fifth birthday and coronation crept nearer, the attacks worsened. To protect the Prince from these attacks, the King Regent summoned the noblest knight from an allied country to act as the Prince’s guard until the day the Prince would become King.
This is the story of Prince Apollo and his devoted Knight, Sir Klavier.
Prince Apollo and Sir Klavier get to know each other better, and maybe even learn to trust.
Fic Summary:
In the land of Lamiroir, there lived a prince. Orphaned as an adolescent, it was decided that the kingdom would be run by the previous King’s advisor, Kristoph Gavin, in secret as King Regent until the Prince was of age.
But Lamiroir withered under the King Regent’s rule—crops stopped flourishing, sickness invaded the land, and misfortune spread like a plague—and because of this, the people of Lamiroir hated and attacked the Prince as if he were the one to make their lives so miserable. As the Prince’s twenty-fifth birthday and coronation crept nearer, the attacks worsened. To protect the Prince from these attacks, the King Regent summoned the noblest knight from an allied country to act as the Prince’s guard until the day the Prince would become King.
This is the story of Prince Apollo and his devoted Knight, Sir Klavier.
In the land of Lamiroir, there lived a prince. Orphaned as an adolescent, it was decided that the kingdom would be run by the previous King’s advisor, Kristoph Gavin, in secret as King Regent until the Prince was of age.
But Lamiroir withered under the King Regent’s rule—crops stopped flourishing, sickness invaded the land, and misfortune spread like a plague—and because of this, the people of Lamiroir hated and attacked the Prince as if he were the one to make their lives so miserable. As the Prince’s twenty-fifth birthday and coronation crept nearer, the attacks worsened. To protect the Prince from these attacks, the King Regent summoned the noblest knight from an allied country to act as the Prince’s guard until the day the Prince would become King.
This is the story of Prince Apollo and his devoted Knight, Sir Klavier.
“Your Highness,” Keith sighed, “please sit up properly. You’re meant to be representing the queen today.”
“Representing, yes. Imitating, no. Besides, I look way cooler like this.”
———
In which Keith is a royal guard and just really wants Lance to sit like a proper prince for once in his life.
Also, I checked procreate’s time lapse and it said 16 hours lmao I’m pretty okay with how this turned out tho! There are things I would change or tweak still but I could poke at this forever so I decided it was done still growing and learning and this was a fun piece to work on
I have been having the worst time with trying to write lately. I asked for some requests and got a pretty good response. An anonymous ask suggested this:
I wanted to write this But I think you could do it justice if you’re into the theme but it’s basically based on the reader being a princess and her guard being her confidant, Like the bodyguard they’ve confessed love tho but it’s still forbidden. There’s a scene in a story I just can’t remember, they torture him in the front of everyone to see as a punishment for smthn? he makes no sound coz the reader is there so she leaves but sneaks out later to him still hurt and tied and then good ol h/c.
And this is what became of that ask.
WARNINGS:THIS IS AN AU; this is set in medieval-ish times, so outdated and F’ed up thoughts and actions towards women will occur; royalty au, forced engagement/wedding, abusive relationship, public whipping, fevers, painful wound cleansing, suicidal thoughts, aborted suicide attempt, magic PAIRING: Princess Reader x Guard Bucky Barnes WORD COUNT: 11,000ish WRITING IN THE DARK BINGO FILL: Royal AU BAD THINGS HAPPEN BINGO FILL:Fevers AUTHOR’S NOTE: Title taken from “ivy,” by Taylor Swift Specifically the line“Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand.”
Near silent footsteps grew closer to the tree just past the garden. A smile played at his lips as he followed the trail of dainty footprints that stopped at the base of the tree. He slowly looked from left to right, turning to lean against the trunk of the tree, crossing his arms over his massive chest and speaking low.
“I know you’re up there.”
He laughed when an acorn popped him on the head. He let his arms fall and tilted his head back, dark hair falling off his shoulders with the movement. There you were, looking up, refusing to look his way.
“Come on, now. He’ll be here any minute.” “I don’t care about him.” “I know you don’t, but he could be a good one.”
You glanced his way then, long enough to make eye contact and narrow your eyes at him before you looked away again.
“That’s what you said about the last two.” “Prince Samuel was a good man, even if he did get on my nerves.” “But you were wrong about Prince Anthony.”
He nodded.
“That guy was a prick.”
You giggled, looking down as he looked up. His lips lifted in a crooked smile as he raised a hand. You sighed, shimmying down a little until he could reach you, taking hold of your waist and lowering you from the tree.
“There we go.”
You stayed close to him once he set your feet on the ground, hands gently brushing the tree debris from your gown. He made no movements away from you and you looked up into kind, icy blue eyes, your chin nearly brushing his chest as you spoke just above a whisper.
“I don’t want to marry them, Bucky.” “I know, Princess.” “Why can’t I just marry you?”
Bucky ignored the twinge in his heart, forcing a sad smile onto his face as he let his fingers trail over your cheek.
“I’m just a lowly guard, your grace. You deserve only the finest of princes.”
You shook your head, eyes drawn to your family crest pinned at Bucky’s chest.
“I don’t know, being solely responsible for the safety of the Princess is worthy of some nobility, isn’t it?”
Bucky smiled for real this time as you met his eyes.
“No one has ever accused me of being noble, my lady.”
You smiled, giving a laugh under your breath before he offered you his arm. You sighed again, looping your arm through his, laying your other hand on his thick bicep as the two of you slowly began to walk back to the castle.
“I feel as if we’re on a death march.” “You can’t look at it that way, my lady. He could be the love of your life.”
You swallowed hard, not realizing as you pulled Bucky closer.
“Who is he again?” “Prince John. A man worthy of you, according to the legends surrounding him.” “What legends?” “He’s defended his kingdom more than once. His father died during one of his battles and John saved the kingdom before returning home.” “So is he the king or a prince?”
Bucky let go of your arm, stepping over a small ravine. There was a fallen tree stretched across the ravine, one you’d hurried over on your way into the woods and up your tree. Bucky held out a hand and you grasped it tightly, lifting the skirts of your gown as you walked over the tree. Once you were safely to the other side, Bucky offered you his arm again.
“Technically he’s king, but he hasn’t had a coronation yet. His kingdom’s laws say the prince must be married first.” “And that’s where I come in.”
You stopped suddenly, dragged forward the slightest bit when Bucky hadn’t realized you weren’t walking with him. He dropped your arm and started to apologize, but you shook your head. He stood before you and you laid your hands on his shoulders, Bucky hunching over enough for you to reach him.
“I don’t want to marry someone just because it would be a good, strategic move for the kingdom. I want to marry forlove.” “I know, my lady. But couldn’t you grow to love him?”
You stared into those icy eyes, biting back the words on the tip of your tongue.
How can I, when I love you so?
You blinked, shaking your head. Bucky smiled, rolling his shoulder to make your hand fall, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of your palm, tucking your hand through his arm once more.
“I’m sure the Queen is wondering where you’ve run off to.” “She should know by now.”
Bucky’s smile widened as he thought to the first time he’d caught you in the tree. Your parents had arranged for Prince Ikaris, a boy you’d grown up playing in the woods with, to come and spend the summer. Only once the days shortened did they tell you that he was there as your suitor, and you’d end the year betrothed.
You’d stayed in the tree until your father ordered the tree cut down to get you out of it, and only by Bucky carrying you back to the castle did you relent.
It seems that Ikaris was only the first in a line of suitors, none deeming you worthy enough to play along with your antics. You were sure Prince Anthony had figured you out, and the wink he’d given you as he kissed your hand during his goodbye only cemented your belief.
No, the only constant through the parade of princes was Bucky, the one who’d sworn to protect you with his life when you were barely a teenager, and he barely a man. He’d kept his word, staying by your side through every attack on the kingdom. While seldom, the attacks did still come, and instead of fighting on the front lines, Bucky stayed at your side.
He also stayed by your side through every cold and fever and illness, keeping you in his sights through every lesson, every ball, staying outside your bedroom while you slept. You weren’t sure when he slept, but every time you needed him, he was by your side.
“Here we are.”
You looked up at the castle before you, glancing up at Bucky. He laid his other hand on the one you had currently gripping his arm.
“It will be fine, Princess. John will be a good man. He’ll be the one.”
You swallowed, pushing a smile on your face and nodding.
Even though you both knew it was a lie.
You paced the sitting room, skirts swishing as you walked. The words you muttered didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t sit still and you couldn’t be quiet. You didn’t look up at the knock on the door, your mother huffing out a breath when the door opened.
“Thank goodness. Talk some sense into her before she sends us all to an early grave!”
You rolled your eyes as you continued your pacing, stopping only when you saw the shiny boots step into your path. You lifted your head, closing your eyes with a relieved sigh when you saw the one constant in your life.
“Bucky.”
You laid your hands on his arms and he led you to the bench where your mother had been sitting. He sat beside you and you shook your head, taking hold of his hands.
“I hate him.” “You don’t know him.” “And I don’t want to!”
You shook your head, body vibrating along with it.
“There’s something about him … I can’t. I won’t marry him.” “You have to give him a chance, Princess.” “I did!” “No, you haven’t.”
You squeezed Bucky’s hands and he shifted closer to you.
“Just talk to him. Get to know him.” “I don’t want to get to know him!” “I know, but you have to.”
You lifted your eyes to his, seeing the pain in his eyes.
“What?”
Bucky looked down at your hands and you shook your head, giving his hands a squeeze until he lifted his head again.
“Bucky, what?” “Your father will force this marriage to happen.”
Your eyes widened, hands falling from Bucky’s. You shook your head, but he nodded his.
“You don’t have a choice anymore, my lady. You will marry Prince John.” “No, he … Father wouldn’t do that.” “He would. He will. Uniting John’s kingdom with ours would be a brilliant strategic move.”
You slowly nodded.
“Whatever is best for the kingdom.”
You stood on shaky legs, walking away from Bucky. He stood, the sword at his side softly clanging as he walked towards you. You stopped and lifted a shaky hand to your lips, closing your eyes as Bucky came to a stop behind you, his warmth surrounding you.
“Give him a chance, my lady. Get to know him.” “I don’t love him.” “You’ll learn to love him.”
You turned quickly, grabbing Bucky’s elbows. You watched his nostrils flare as his hands went to your waist, steadying you. His hands didn’t move from you, the warmth of his fingers burning you like a brand. You stepped closer, watching his eyes flash as he stayed still, a quiet gasp leaving your lips as his fingers flexed on your hips. The two of you stared at each other until you leaned even closer, your near silent voice echoing in the small space between you.
“I’llneverlove him.”
Bucky had made you promise to give Prince John a try, so you did. Sitting beside him at meals, strolling through the grounds with him. Standing at the entrance to the smelly barn as he brushed his horse and regaled you with tales of battle.
You couldn’t stand the man.
Bucky kept his distance when you were with John, brushing off the prince’s insistence that you were more than safe with him and Bucky could take the time off. Bucky politely declined, giving you and John space while still following you.
Now, you were on yet another stroll through the castle grounds, arm through John’s at his insistence, Bucky following a dozen paces behind.
“Is he always like this?”
You glanced over your shoulder, a soft smile crossing your lips.
“He’s duty-bound to protect me.” “And he’s always around you? Even in your private chamber?” “Well, of course not. He stays outside the door.”
John clicked his tongue, much the same way he did with the horses. The sound was grating to your ears and he shook his head.
“That’ll be the first thing to go.”
You blinked.
“I beg your pardon?”
John gave you a patronizing smile.
“When you’re my wife, you won’t need a bodyguard. I’ll protect you.” “I would think as the Queen, you’d want as much protection around me as you can get.” “Of course, your grace. But I have my own men I’ll put in that position.”
You blinked a few times.
“I’ve known B—“
You cleared your throat.
“James my whole life. I trust him and I know he will protect me, no matter the cost.” “Well, I don’t need him.” “Youmay not, butIdo.” “You’ll need what I say you’ll need.”
You stopped, and John gave a hard exhale when you tugged at his arm.
“Come on. I’m tired of dealing with your attitude.” “I hate to break it to you, but the attitude stays.”
John gave a laugh, turning to stand in front of you and glaring down at you.
“I’ll fuck that attitude right out of you. Now do as I say.”
He grabbed your arm tightly and harshly pulled you forward, causing you to stumble. A warm hand grasped yours, the other on your waist as you were righted a moment before you were standing behind the wall of Bucky.
“I swear to God, if you touch her again—“ “I didn’t do anything.” “I watched you. I heard you.”
John laughed.
“And what will you do, guard? You think you can undermine the king?” “You’re not the king yet.”
John lifted his chin, a wicked smile coming to his lips as he stared at Bucky, glancing to see you peeking around Bucky’s wide frame before he spoke again.
“We’ll see about that.”
You sat up in bed at the sudden commotion outside your chamber. You pushed back the blankets and grabbed your robe, pulling it around you as you flung open the door. Guards wearing Prince John’s family crest were surrounding Bucky, trying to put his hands in shackles.
“What’s happening? What is this?” “Princess, go back inside.”
You shook your head at Bucky, reaching for him, gasping when a fist flew out, catching Bucky on the chin. He went to his knees with a groan, hands quickly shackled behind his back.
“Unhand him. Let him go!” “Orders of the Prince. Go back inside, my lady.” “No, I demand you let him go!”
Before a burly guard could force you back into your chamber, a hand reached out, placed in the center of the guard’s chest. The guard gave a nod, and Bucky was carried away. You turned quickly to see one of Bucky’s closest friends at your side.
“Steve, what’s happening?”
Steve sighed, gently ushering you back into your chamber.
“John put out the order. Said Bucky threatened him, threatened you. He’s going to use him to teach a lesson.” “Bucky didn’t threaten him. And he would never hurt me—“ “I know. I know, your grace, but I couldn’t go against the Prince.”
You looked in the direction that they’d taken Bucky, your heart feeling as if it were in your throat.
“What will he do to him?”
Steve’s eyes were cast down when you looked back to him, and you covered your mouth with your hand. Your hand drifted to your throat, as you spoke the words that burned like acid in your mouth.
“Will he kill him?” “I don’t think so.”
You closed your eyes, Steve’s quiet words slicing through your heart.
“But there are things worse than death.”
You opened your eyes again, knowing that despite the late hour, sleep would not come for you tonight.
John smiled as he adjusted the armor on his arms.
“Where is she?”
He glanced to see Steve at the doorway, who bowed his head.
“She’s coming, your grace.” “Good. I want to be sure she watches closely.”
Steve nodded, eyes cast to the ground. His eyes flicked up when he heard your gown swishing as you walked, clenching his jaw before he turned his head.
“She’s here, your highness.” “Excellent.”
John turned to see you in the doorway. Your eyes seemed tired, as if you hadn’t gotten enough sleep. John smiled, knowing his plan had worked.
“My Queen. Let’s take a walk.”
You glanced away when he was near, biting back a groan when he grabbed your chin and held it tightly as he kissed your cheek. He grabbed your arm and placed it through his own, pulling you forward.
“There’s something you need to learn. I’ve spoken with Samuel and Thor and Ikaris. I even wrote to Anthony, but I never received a response.”
You bit your lip to hide the smile at that.
“They all said the same thing. That you weren’t worth the time.”
You schooled your face into a calm, cool facade. You weren’t going to let his words get to you.
“Honestly, Princess? I have to agree with them.”
You clenched your teeth together as he went on.
“You may not be worth it, but your kingdom is. Well, your father’s kingdom. Let’s not pretend it would ever be yours.”
You straightened your spine, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
“But I can’t get the kingdom without you, so I guess we both just have to grin and bear it. But here’s the thing, sweetheart.” “Don’t call me that.”
John maneuvered your hand to where he was grasping it, squeezing so tightly you felt your bones grind together. You yelped at the sudden burn of pain and John sneered at you.
“Remember your place, Princess. I will be your husband and your king very soon.”
You blinked back tears as the two of you came to a sudden stop.
“Consider this the first of many lessons I’ll have to teach you. And you will learn, Princess. One way or another.”
John snapped his fingers and two of his men came to stand on either side of you. You looked from one to the other, noticing the crowd that had gathered. You narrowed your eyes when you realized you were standing on some sort of scaffolding, a stage of sorts.
John stepped near the edge of the stage.
“Citizens! Your future king has called you here for one simple reason.”
You tuned him out, glancing around the stage, looking through the crowd for a familiar face. You didn’t see one, save for Steve near the stairs, head bowed, shoulders tense. You swallowed as you studied the crowd, eyes falling onto a woman paces behind the rest of the people. She locked eyes with you and a shiver rolled up your spine. She lifted the hood of the cloak she wore, setting it on her fiery hair before turning and walking away. You watched her until you couldn’t see her anymore, blinking as if you’d been in a trance. Your eyes fluttered as the crowd began buzzing like a hive of bees, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched Bucky with his hands and feet shackled being led up the stairs. You started to step forward, stepping back when one of the men beside you blocked your path.
“You’re to watch this, Princess.”
Your heart throbbed in your chest as Bucky was led to the middle of the stage, the shirt he was wearing torn away. You met his eyes, saw the emotions swirling in the icy blue before he was forced to look away, his body wrenched to face the crowd.
“No.”
The word was barely audible, your eyes widening when John was handed a whip. You shook your head, reaching out, being stopped quickly by the thickly muscled arms of the men on either side of you. You looked to see Steve with his head still bowed, eyes squeezed shut, lips pulled tight in a wince. You took in a breath as John raised the whip over his head, hand flying to cover your mouth as John brought the whip down, the crack seeming to echo as Bucky’s body jolted forward.
Bucky tried to hold back, but soon every crack of the whip was followed by a scream of agony. You wanted to collapse at the first sound he tried so hard to hold back, but you stood firm. Bucky would want you to be strong. John looked back at you, wild-eyed with a wide smile on his face, and you glared at him, managing to stay still when the next crack of his whip was viciously hard.
When Bucky’s screams faded, you peeked around the man beside you, your heart falling to your toes when you saw how limp Bucky’s body was. The final lash from John’s whip had no reaction from Bucky, and John threw the whip to the ground as he turned and made his way to you. He stopped in front of you, smiling sadistically.
“Let this be a lesson to you, Princess. King or not, I own you.”
He glanced back over his shoulder.
“And this is just the beginning.”
You closed your eyes as John bent to kiss your cheek before walking away, whistling a tune as he did. The crowd began to disperse with quiet murmurs being exchanged, and you rushed forward, hitting your knees beside Bucky’s prone form.
“Bucky? Oh god. Buck, can you hear me?” “He’s unconscious.”
You looked up to Steve, seeing the pain on his face as he studied the lashes on Bucky’s back, blood oozing from the wounds. You shook your head, one shaky hand moving to the back of Bucky’s head.
“What do we do?” “I can help.”
You looked up at the new voice, quiet and thickly accented. The woman you’d noticed earlier that stayed at the edge of the crowd was standing over Bucky. You moved a hand protectively over him and she smirked.
“Don’t worry, Princess. I mean no harm. He’ll need these wounds cleaned to ward off infection.”
You nodded, looking down at the crisscrossing wounds on Bucky’s back. Shaky fingers gently touched his broken skin and you shook your head.
“I don’t … I can’t leave.” “I know, your grace. I have a few men who can help us.”
You met Steve’s eyes and nodded. He turned and nodded, and three men stepped out of the shadows. You recognized two of them, smiling sadly.
“Clint. Timothy.” “Your highness.”
The men bowed before offering hands to help you to your feet. You stepped back with the woman beside you, your heart clenching with every moan and noise Bucky made. The men managed to get Bucky on a horse, planning on taking him to Clint’s farm. The woman turned to you, and you would have sworn you saw her eyes turn red.
“I’ll do what I can, Princess, but he’s going to need you.” “Me?”
She nodded, a smile coming to her lips.
“I’ll send for you.” “How?” “You’ll know.”
She turned away and you blinked a few times before stepping forward.
“Steve!”
He looked back at you, crossing the space they’d already put between you. You took his hands.
“Be careful. You know there’s wolves in the woods.”
Steve nodded.
“We’ll keep an eye out.”
You nodded, squeezing his hands before he jogged to meet Clint, who was leading the horse away.
You stayed in your chamber with the door locked, refusing any visitors and the requests your parents and John made for you to come out. The only person you would allow into the room was the lady-in-waiting that had been by your side since you were a child, Lady Jean Grey.
You were sitting on the cushioned bench by the window, hands clasped in Jean’s as she knelt before you. You couldn’t speak, tears silently rolling down your cheeks as Jean spoke softly.
“He’s going to be okay, your highness. Steve will be sure to take good care of him.”
You hung your head and gave a soft sob. Jean always seemed to know just what you were thinking, even when you couldn’t put it into words. She knew how you felt about Bucky, how you felt about John, the hopelessness you could feel yourself slipping into. Your father had been delighted with John’s public show of power, and he was more determined than ever to make the marriage happen. You didn’t have a say in the matter, and seeing John’s self-satisfied smirk made your stomach turn.
Your head lifted, eyes locking with Jean’s before the two of you turned towards the window. You helped her to her feet, your gowns swishing as the both of you made your way to the window. The moon was high in the cloudless sky, and a chill rolled down your spine as a wolf’s howl broke the stillness of the night.
You turned to Jean, grabbing her hands.
“That’s it.” “Your grace, that was a wolf.” “No,shedid that. We haven’t heard wolves since the snow melted.”
Jean was incredibly smart and intuitive, and you saw goosebumps rise on her arms when the wolf howled again. You gave her hands a squeeze.
“I have to go, Jean. She said he was going to need me, and this is her sign.” “Okay. Okay, go.”
She sighed, looking to the door over your shoulder.
“I’ll stay here, pretend I’m you if I have to. I’ll ward off everything I can, but you must hurry back.”
You nodded, pulling her hands forward until you could kiss her cheek. She helped you into a gown more suitable for someone who wasn’t a princess, pinning your hair up and giving you her cloak. You knew there would be guards outside your chamber door, so Jean helped you climb over the balcony, using the blankets from your bed as a makeshift ladder.
You twisted your ankle when you dropped to the ground, wincing as you ran through the pain. You went in the direction you remembered Steve and Clint leading the horse that had carried Bucky away, the thought coming to you that you had no idea where you were going.
You covered your mouth with a hand when the wolf’s howl filled the air again, the sound sharp in your ears. You looked to your right, jolting when the howl sounded again, but turning that direction. You pulled Jean’s cloak tighter around you, eyes widening when you saw a curl of smoke rose towards the moon. Clouds were quickly hiding the moon, so you hurried towards the smoke, stopping when you saw a stone cottage. You made your way to the door, knocking on it and stepping back.
“Your highness. Welcome.”
You followed the woman into the cottage, removing the hood from your head. You untied the strings at your neck and she took the cloak from you, hanging it beside what you assumed was her own cloak.
“Excuse me.”
She turned to you, curls of her red hair framing her face.
“What is your name?”
She smiled.
“Wanda. Follow me.”
You did, stopping suddenly when Wanda walked through a doorway.
“Oh god.”
You hurried forward, hand brushing over Bucky’s sweat-soaked face. He was laying on his side and he moaned at your touch, his huge body shivering almost violently. You lifted your eyes to Wanda, who sighed.
“He’s got a fever from the infection. I’m doing everything I can.” “Oh, Bucky.”
You grabbed a cloth near his makeshift bed, dipping it in a bucket of water. You gently pressed the cloth to his forehead, a moan leaving his lips. The shivering of his body slowed just a bit, and you moved the cloth to gently clean his face.
“I’m here, Bucky. I’m so sorry.”
He hummed as you dipped the cloth back into the water, wringing it out and pressing it against his neck.
“How long has he had the fever?” “The wounds were showing the beginning signs of infection when we got him here.”
You lifted your head at that, and Wanda smiled as she moved to stand in front of a big bowl.
“They’re in the barn. Close enough that they can come if I call. The big one said it was unseemly for the men to be in a lady’s home.”
You smiled as you laid the cloth over Bucky’s heart.
“Steve.”
Wanda nodded, turning to grab a jar from a shelf on the wall.
“What can I do?”
Wanda took a few jars into her arms, setting them beside the bowl.
“You’re doing it. He’s stopped moaning. Perhaps he recognizes your touch.” “Is he delirious?”
Wanda nodded.
“He’s woken up a few times. That’s usually when I have to call the big one in to calm him down.”
You nodded, sucking in a breath when one of Bucky’s shaky hands touched your thigh. You moved the cloth back to his face, patting gently.
“It’s me, Bucky. I’m here with you.”
Your only response was a moan, and Wanda spoke from behind you.
“Can you fill this with water from the bucket?”
You took a small glass vial from her, dipping it into the bucket and handing it to her before dipping the cloth back into the bucket and wringing it out again.
“Wanda?” “Mm-hmm?” “The wolf howling. That was you, wasn’t it?”
She didn’t answer, and you lifted your head to see her dark eyes on you. She nodded, and you swallowed as you moved back to Bucky, placing the cloth against his neck.
“What are you?”
Your voice was quiet, your eyes on Bucky, watching his eyes move under his eyelids as his sleep was restless. You finally glanced over your shoulder, Wanda’s eyes still on you. You swallowed again and Wanda’s lips curled in the slightest semblance of a smile.
“Will you help me put this salve on his wounds?”
You nodded, watching Wanda stir whatever she had in the big bowl.
“We can get the big one in to help hold him down.” “Does it hurt him?” “It does, but it helps as well. I’ve already had to convince the big one that I’m helping him and not purposefully hurting.”
You let your fingers graze through Bucky’s hair, your breath catching in your throat at the way his head moved, as if he were seeking out your touch. You nodded, and Wanda walked to the window, unlatching it and pushing it open. She whistled a short tune, then closed the window. A few seconds later, you watched Steve exit the barn, wiping his feet before he walked into the room, eyes widening at the sight of you.
“Your Highness.”
You smiled at him and the short bow he gave, turning your attention back to Bucky. Wanda’s accented voice broke through the quiet.
“It is time to clean his wounds again.”
Steve blew out a breath, lifting a hand to rub at his bearded chin. You wiped the cloth over Bucky’s mouth, your fingers trailing through his hair. Steve stepped towards you, voice gentle.
“Princess, you don’t have to watch this. Clint will keep you company in the stables.”
You shook your head.
“I need to be here.”
Steve nodded, exchanging a look with Wanda. Steve murmured to Bucky as he gently began pushing him onto his stomach. Bucky groaned, painful moans escaping his lips as he went with Steve’s urges. You tried to shush him as best you could, touching his face and whispering to him. A horrified gasp escaped your lips when you saw the wounds on his back, how angry red they were, how some were seeping. Wanda and Steve exchanged another glance above where you had knelt at Bucky’s head.
“Your highness?”
You looked up to Wanda, who had a soft smile on her face.
“You stay there, try to keep him still. The big one and I can apply the salve.” “My name is Steve.” “I know your name, vysokiy.”
You and Steve exchanged a look, a smile crossing your face at the flush in his cheeks. The smile slid from your face as you met Wanda’s eyes, saw the compassion and sorrow there.
“He will fight. He may be weakened, but he is still strong. He won’t know what he’s doing and if he hurts you, he doesn’t mean it.”
You nodded, closing your eyes for just a moment.
“Brace yourself.”
You did, your heart shattering in your chest when Wanda laid a stripe of thick green paste over the lashes on Bucky’s back. Bucky gasped, then screamed, legs flying up as the salve burned into his skin. Tears came to your eyes when you listened to him scream, as Wanda gently layered the salve onto the lashes in his skin and you finally heard Steve calling your name, looking up.
“Talk to him! Calm him down.”
You shook your head, unsure of what to do, and Steve ground his teeth as he pressed Bucky’s shoulders down.
“Let him hear your voice.”
You looked back at Bucky, the tears sliding down his cheeks breaking your heart. He screamed again as Wanda spread more salve on his back and you knelt in front of him.
“Bucky! Bucky, calm down. Just breathe.”
Bucky’s eyes flew open, wild and glassy from the fever. You shushed him, taking his face in your hands.
“You’re okay. I’m here.”
He whispered your name and you nodded, smiling through the tears rolling down your cheeks.
“Hi, Buck.”
He groaned and you moved closer, resting your forehead on his, feeling the blaze of his skin against yours.
“It’s okay, Bucky. I’m here.”
He murmured your name again, one shaky hand reaching for you. You took his hand, holding it in yours, kissing his fingers before bringing it to your chest. He gave quiet groans as Wanda and Steve spread the salve over his back, giving your hand intermittent squeezes. You whispered to him, words that you weren’t even sure made sense.
When Wanda quietly announced she was done, Bucky’s body relaxed. You smiled, blinking open your eyes in time to see Bucky lean back just enough to brush his nose against yours. Your eyes widened as he moved, wincing the slightest bit. You took the hand Steve offered you and stood to your feet, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of the chair he moved for you to the head of Bucky’s makeshift bed. You sat down and Steve moved the chair closer. He maneuvered Bucky just a bit, until Bucky’s head was on your lap. You stared at Bucky for a moment, shaking your head as you looked up to Steve, looking back down when Bucky gave a content sigh, quickly drifting back to sleep. You stared at his sleeping form, the furrow between his eyebrows that you gently smoothed away. Every touch of your hand seemed to relax him more, and you smiled as you ran your fingers through his hair, gently untangling the dark strands.
In the kitchen, Wanda smiled as she washed out the bowl she had used. Steve stood back, eyes in the room where Bucky slept on the Princess’ lap. He lifted a hand to his forehead, gently rubbing.
“Something on your mind, vysokiy?”
Steve swallowed.
“This … them … it can’t be. You mustknow that.” “I know that the heart is not something to be played around with.” “They can’t be together. This will just hurt them more in the end.” “Will it? You see him? He’s sleeping more restfully than he has since he regained consciousness. The infection is already calming.”
Steve shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter. She has to go back to the castle and he has to go back to being a guard. Not her guard, because her new husband won’t allow it.” “Her new husband is not her husband yet. There has been no wedding.” “One is coming. The whole kingdom knows it.”
Wanda turned to face him fully.
“And you think she will go through with it?”
Steve stared at her, head tilting slightly.
“What are you talking about?”
Wanda’s dark eyes danced from you and Bucky back to Steve.
“Surely you can feel the love between them as I do.”
Steve looked away, looking back when Wanda stepped closer to him.
“You think she’ll go through with marrying the monster who broke her heart by nearly killing the one who holds her heart?” “She doesn’t have a choice.” “There’s always a choice, vysokiy.”
Steve grabbed her wrist, his touch gentling when her fingers gently caressed his wrist.
“What do you know?” “Nothing as of yet. Is only a possibility.” “What is?”
Wanda looked to you, saw you dip your head to press your lips to the crown of Bucky’s head. She nodded.
“I do believe your Princess would rather die than be forced away from him.”
Steve dropped her hand, eyes flashing back to you and Bucky, who slept peacefully in your lap.
You stayed in the chair with Bucky’s head in your lap until the sun came up. He stirred, groaning softly before blinking his eyes open. His eyebrows drew together, confusion marring his features until he looked up and saw you smiling down at him.
“My lady?” “Good morning, Bucky. How are you feeling?”
Bucky blinked, as if he were unsure you were really there. You gently slipped your fingers through his hair again and his eyes drifted closed. You continued, his voice deep and sleepy.
“How are you here?” “I snuck out. Lady Jean is pretending to be me.”
Bucky moaned softly, realizing where his head had been laying. His cheeks flushed as he pushed himself up with a groan, and you quickly moved to help him sit up.
“Take it easy. Just breathe.”
He took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. You smiled, moving your hand from his bare shoulder to his neck. He groaned again, hanging his head.
“Just breathe, Bucky.” “When did you get here?”
You swallowed, gently rubbing the ball of his shoulder.
“Last night. I had to help Wanda and Steve dress your wounds. Which, it should be time to change the bandages. We had to apply them while you slept.”
Bucky watched as you lifted a strip of cloth from just under his shoulder blade.
“It might be easier if you lay back down.”
Bucky shook his head.
“No, I … I’d like to sit up.”
You smiled.
“Okay.”
You stepped away from him, going behind him.
“I’m sorry, this may hurt.” “I’ll be okay.”
You slowly lifted the bandages from his skin, some of the salve causing the bandages to stick. You pulled as gently as you could, wincing each time you heard Bucky hiss out a breath. When the final bandage was removed, you went to the bucket of water Clint had brought in before the sun rose. You dipped a fresh cloth into the water, bringing it back to gently clean Bucky’s back. He hissed at first, then moaned softly.
“I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. Just a bit tender.”
You nodded, tears blurring your eyes as you did your best to clean the wounds. Once the wounds were clean, you continued to pat the cloth over Bucky’s back, urged on by the pleased sighs leaving his lips. Soon, however, Bucky realized there was no rhyme or rhythm to your touches. The cloth was barely skimming over his skin, the gentlest of brushes.
“My lady?”
You didn’t answer, dropping your hand to your side, going back to the bucket and dipping the cloth back into it, wringing it almost dry.
“Princess?”
You laid your hands on the small table where the bucket sat. You hung your head, only turning when you heard Bucky move.
“Don’t try to get up. You’re weak.” “Why are you crying?”
You sniffled, shaking your head. Bucky held out his hand and you took it in both of yours, stepping forward at his gentle pull.
“Are those tears for me, sweet Princess?”
You nodded, closing your eyes as you moved one hand to brush his hair back from his face, the other grasping tightly to his hand.
“I’m so sorry.” “What could you possibly be sorry for?”
You lifted your head when Bucky gently pushed at your chin, tears shining in your eyes when his icy blues met yours. He shook his head and you gave a shaky sigh.
“It’s because of me. John did this to you because of—“ “Don’t…”
Bucky shook his head, clenching his jaw before he looked back to you.
“He did this. Not you.” “But he did it because of me. He wanted to teach me a lesson and he knew hurting you would be the best way to hurt me.”
You lowered your head again and Bucky shifted to push your chin up again.
“Don’t hide from me, Princess. Let me look at you.”
You swallowed, stepping closer to him.
“I hate him.” “I know.” “They’re going to make me marry him and I—“ “Shh.”
You were careful to keep your arms by your side when Bucky pulled you into his arms. You didn’t want to touch his back and cause him any sort of pain, but you couldn’t help resting your head against his shoulder. You lifted a hand to cup his face, closing your eyes when you felt his rough beard against your scalp.
“I know he won’t allow me to guard you anymore.” “I know.” “If I could change it, Princess …”
You lifted your head, nose brushing against Bucky’s chin.
“I wish it could be you.”
Bucky’s hands tightened around you and you gave a shaky sigh.
“My lady—“ “Don’t say that he’ll be a good king or that I’ll grow to love him. I won’t. I won’t ever love anyone, Bucky. No one but—“ “Please don’t.”
You couldn’t stop the sob, your hand tightening just a bit on his face, resting your palm against his cheek. Bucky closed his eyes, his voice pitched low.
“You have to go back.” “I don’t want to.” “I know.” “I get this terrible feeling that I’ll never see you again.”
You shook your head, moving back until you could look him in the eyes.
“I can’t live the rest of my life without you.” “You can, Princess. You’re strong.” “I’m not.”
Bucky reached out, taking your face in his hands, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.
“You deserve more than a lowly castle guard.” “I deserve someone who loves me, and that monster never will. I can’t live like that, Bucky. I can’t.”
He swallowed at the sureness of your words, rubbing his thumbs under your eyes again, causing them to close. He pulled you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead, the place where your crown usually sat. You lifted your hands to hold onto his thick forearms as he spoke again.
“You have to go back.”
You shook your head, a smile coming to his lips at your stubbornness.
“You can’t turn your back on the kingdom.” “The kingdom doesn’t care about me. The only thing I’m good for is marrying someone who can rule because I never can.”
You opened your eyes, looking into his again.
“Do you know what he said to me while we were walking one day? He said maybe I won’t be as useless as my mother and actually give him a worthy heir.”
You shook your head.
“How can you say I should go back to that?”
Bucky looked down at your still-joined hands.
“It’s your duty as Princess—“ “I don’t care about duty!”
You let go of his hands and stood up, shaking your head as you looked at him.
“The only thing in this world I care about is you. It broke my heart when John tortured you the way that he did. Look at me, Bucky. I snuck out of the castle to get to you. I knew what a risk it was and I couldn’t help myself.”
You’d been pacing the small area, stopping and turning to him.
“He doesn’t love me. He never will, and I know that. Deep in my bones, I can feel it. But you …”
Bucky hung his head, putting his face in his hands. You could feel the cracks in your heart, the break beginning. The cracks only deepened when he lifted his head, pain-filled eyes meeting yours.
“I can’t give you anything.” “You think I care about jewels or gold?” “What about food? I have nothing, Princess. I am nothing.”
You shook your head, going to him and taking his hands as you knelt before him.
“You’reeverything, Bucky. If I never step foot in another castle, that would be fine with me. As long as I had you.”
Bucky stared down at your hands, shaking his head.
“You have to go back.”
You felt the cracks in your heart deepening even more.
“You won’t even try, will you?” “There’s nothing to try. My duty is to guard the castle and your duty is—“ “To marry a monster whose cruelty towards me brings him such joy.”
You shook your head, giving a sharp laugh at the tears welling up in your eyes. You stared into Bucky’s eyes, the pain you felt reflected in the stormy grey of his orbs. You slowly nodded, turning away from him.
“Princess…”
You didn’t turn back at his voice, as much as it hurt. Bucky noticed then the weight on your shoulders, the way every breath seemed heavy from your chest. He called you by your name and you turned, lifting pain-filled eyes to his. He went still, the sad smile you put on your face breaking his heart, along with the words you said.
“I love you, James. And I’ll never love anyone but you.”
The tears sparkling in your eyes made him want to run to you, but you turned away before he could move. He hung his head as he listened to your footsteps walk away, curling back up on the bed once the closing of the door signaled your departure.
“Your Highness? Prince John would like you to meet him in the dining hall. He wants to discuss the food for the wedding feast.”
You continued to stare out the window, taking a breath before you acknowledged Lady Jean.
“Tell the future king that whatever he desires is fine with me.” “He wants to get your input on some things, my lady.”
You pulled your dull, tired eyes from the window.
“I highly doubt that. But you know what I like, Lady Jean. Speak in my stead.” “It’s not my wedding, your grace.” “It’s not mine, either.”
Jean sighed, closing the door behind her as she made her way to you.
“You must leave this room, dear. Let’s take a stroll around the gardens.”
You turned your head towards her again.
“He cut down my tree. Did you know that?”
Jean knelt beside you, reaching a hand up to gently stroke your hair.
“He reinstated James. Did you knowthat?”
You shook your head.
“He’s a castle guard now, but he’s here. I could bring him to you.” “John would never allow that.” “Then we could take that walk and be sure to find him.”
You smiled sadly.
“I told him I love him. That I’d never love anyone but him.”
Jean’s hand fell from your hair. You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes again.
“I think I’d just like to stay here.” “Princess…” “Thank you, Jean. That will be all.”
Jean sighed, standing to her feet, laying her hand against your head before turning and leaving. You took in a breath, folding your arms and placing them on the windowsill, putting your head on your arms and crying.
When the moon was high in the sky and the castle was at rest, you crept as quietly as you could from your room. The guard outside your door, one wearing Prince John’s family crest, was asleep. He had his chin against his chest, quiet snores leaving his lips. You shook your head and silently crept past him, pulling your cloak tighter around you. You went for the winding staircase, making your way to the castle’s roof. Once there, you untied your cloak, letting it fall to the stones you slowly walked across. You stopped at the edge, leaning over the railing there, your heart fluttering at the distance to the ground.
You took in a breath and let it out slowly, taking hold of the railing and lifting yourself up. You slowly stood on top of the edge of the stone balcony, looking straight ahead instead of down.
If you looked down, you’d never do what you set out to do.
You closed your eyes, trying your best to clear your mind. You didn’t want to think of Jean or your parents or John and especially not Bucky. You lifted your head, the night wind rolling over you like a cold caress, cutting through the thin gown you wore to bed.
“Princess?”
You opened your eyes, the breath catching in your throat.
No.
“My lady, please. I need you to step down from there.”
Not him. Anyone but him.
“Princess, I can’t make it down fast enough to catch you. So that means I … I’ll have to follow you.” “You’re not my guard anymore.” “Maybe not where the future king is concerned, but I’ll always protect you.”
You turned your head then, tears welling up in your eyes when you saw him.
“Is that what you did when you sent me away? You were protecting me? By pushing me towards that monster?” “Take my hand and we can talk.”
Bucky stepped forward, hand outstretched to you. You shook your head, the stone ledge digging into your bare feet.
“I can’t live like this. I can’t marry him. His cruelty is constant and I can’t even begin to imagine what he’ll do when I’m his wife. He already treats me like he owns me and I can’t … I won’t live like that.”
You squared your shoulders, looking back out over the kingdom.
“If you do this, then you must know that I’m coming after you.”
You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Bucky staring up at you on the ledge.
“I can’t live in a world where you’re not.”
Your shoulders dropped at that. As a quiet sob broke free from your chest, Bucky stepped even closer, hand outstretched towards you. You put your hand in his and he stepped even closer as you bent down, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slid one arm around you, the other under your knees. He held you close as you put your face in his neck, and he knelt to the ground, keeping you in his arms. You stayed holding onto him, the warmth of his body bleeding through his armor and into you.
You couldn’t say anything. Tears slipped from your eyes and onto him, but Bucky didn’t speak either. He just knelt there on the castle roof, holding you, for what seemed like hours.
You stood on the balcony outside your chamber, staring out over the hazy day. Dark clouds were rolling over the hills in the distance, an ominous appearance to what should have been the happiest day of your life. You hadn’t slept well, your dreams invaded with hopeless, dark images and wolf howls. You exhaled slowly, closing your eyes, blinking them open again.
You tilted your head, the hooded figure at the edge of the trees sending a chill up your spine. You instinctively knew that was Wanda, and you felt a pull towards her. You watched her come to a stop at the tree line, hands coming out from under her cloak, twisting and turning and you would swear they were glowing red. You would also swear that she was looking right at you, and you turned, hurrying from your chamber. You were halfway down the steps before you realized how empty the castle was, considering your wedding ceremony and feast were tonight. You lifted your skirts and ran through the open doors, hurrying down past the stables. The closer you got to the tree line, the further away it seemed Wanda slipped. You jumped at a crack of thunder, glancing over your shoulder to see Bucky stop in his tracks on a balcony of the castle. You stopped as he did, watching him shake his head and call for you.
You’re not sure what came over you. You felt as though your body wasn’t your own as you turned and ran into the forest. You called for Wanda, but got no response. You kept running, sucking in a breath when you heard the commotion behind you, of the guards mounting their horses to come after you.
“Wanda! I know that was you. Where are you?”
You went still when you heard a wolf howl, glancing over your shoulder when you heard snarls and yips close by. You watched a pack of wolves walk out of the trees and slowly surround you. You swallowed, closing your eyes and wishing you could have had one more moment with Bucky.
You gasped as a wolf snapped its jaws at you, and you backed into a thorn bush, cutting your arm. You yelped when another wolf did the same thing, gasping when a wolf bit your gown, tugging until it ripped. On your other side, another wolf did the same thing. You didn’t want to run because you knew you couldn’t outrun the wolves. But you noticed strangely that the wolves weren’t trying to hurt you. They seemed more preoccupied with tearing your gown.
You turned and cut your other arm on the thorn bush, your blood dripping onto the scraps of your gown on the ground. One of the wolves threw its head back and gave a loud howl, your eyes widening when a larger wolf stepped out of the trees. You noticed something in this wolf’s mouth, a vial that seemed familiar to you, but you didn’t know why. The wolf stopped directly in front of you, tilting his head to the side before dropping the vial at your feet. A strange crimson smoke wafted from your feet up to your nose, and you inhaled deeply.
You stared into the wolf’s eyes, your mouth opening as your breathing sped up. Pain shot through your body, and you threw your head back and screamed. You fell to your knees and screamed again, the pain seeming to completely encompass you. The wolves began snapping at you and howling, your screams interspersed with their howls. You gave a gasping, wet gurgle, feeling like your heart was trying to burst out of your chest. A quiet groan was the last sound you could make before you collapsed, the pain too much for you to handle.
You were hanging on the edge of consciousness, unsure of what was happening. You could swear you felt the wolves’ nudging you with their noses, causing you to roll over onto your belly. You were sure you felt claws scratch one leg, then the other, until a quiet yip sounded. You felt the wolves nudge you again, and you felt yourself be lifted, placed onto something soft and warm. You felt wind against your skin, and the cool drops of rain against your face was the last thing you felt before you lost consciousness.
As storms raged through the kingdom, a blanket of grief settled over the castle. Your mother refused to leave her chamber, demanding the curtains closed and shrouding herself in darkness. Your father seemed to be in a fog. John saw no reason to stay, leaving his condolences before heading back to his kingdom.
Lady Jean Grey was inconsolable, sitting in your chamber and weeping. The castle was quiet and dark, and from his place on a balcony, Bucky decided he’d prefer to be publicly whipped every day of his life than to have to live with this godforsaken pain.
He stood unmoving in the rain, soaked to the skin, completely numb. He kept his eyes trained towards the woods, hoping against all odds that you’d step through the tree line. Steve stayed beside him, sometimes trying to talk with him, most of the time just standing by.
Every time Bucky closed his eyes, he saw you. The sweet smiles you only gave to him, the way your eyes lit up when he was near. He could feel your gentle touch, reminders of the comfort only you could bring when he was at Wanda’s cottage. He could hear your laughter that only happened when he did something that tickled you, the soft way you said his name, the only one besides Steve who could call him Bucky.
It was a pain he never wanted, a grief so heavy and sharp he wasn’t sure he’d survive.
He’d fallen to his knees when he and the rest of the guards arrived at the clearing in the woods, in the midst of the remnants of what was to be your wedding gown strewn about, soaked with your blood. The howls of the wolves as they’d retreated had him reaching for his sword, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t take hold. He’d managed to pick up a scrap of lace that was tattered at one end, soaked with rain or wolf saliva, he didn’t know. It was now tucked close to the place where his heart once beat.
They hadn’t found your body before the rains fell, but from the noises he’d heard, your screams and the howls and snarls of the wolves, everyone knew your fate.
Now, Bucky just stood. If the castle fell under attack, he’d rush to the front line. He wouldn’t put up much of a fight, and perhaps one day they’d say he died a noble death. Steve would know the truth, but he wouldn’t speak of it. Until then, Bucky would focus on trying to breathe through the weight of his grief.
As the sun started its descent, Bucky gazed over the tree line. A hooded figure stood in the distance, face shrouded by a cloak. Bucky watched hands appear from under the cloak, turning and fingers moving, pops of red glowing around the digits. He turned to the guard at the other end of the balcony, found him with his eyes closed, chin resting against his chest. Bucky swallowed, looking back out to see the figure turn away, cloak falling to reveal a head of fiery red hair, hand flicking above her head as she walked away.
“Wanda.”
Bucky turned and left his post, hurrying into the castle and down the steps, not realizing how empty the castle was. He burst through the doors and ran for the trees, bursting into the forest before he heard—and ignored— Steve calling his name.
Bucky ran through the forest, armor clanging with every move he made. He stopped, a strange feeling coming over him as he quickly removed his armor, leaving it in a pile with his sword carefully on top before he continued running. He burst into a clearing, looking from left to right, going still when he heard the howl of a wolf much too nearby. He closed his eyes when he realized where he was, the same clearing where he’d found all that was left of you. He opened his eyes again to find wolves surrounding him, on every side and at every turn. He reached for his sword, hands falling to his sides when he realized his armor was far behind him.
As the wolves snarled and bared their teeth at him, his only thought was, if the gods had mercy on him, at least he’d see you again soon.
He closed his eyes, jolting when he felt a wolf bite at his pants, opening his eyes and trying to pull his leg away, only to hear the seam rip. The wolf shook it’s head with a mouthful of fabric before spitting it out and growling at Bucky. Bucky braced himself when the wolves charged at him at once, only to quickly realize they weren’t trying to hurt him; it seemed they only wanted to rip his clothes. Bucky hissed out a breath when his now-bare arm swiped a thorn bush, blood dripping from the cut onto his tattered clothes.
He went still when a much larger wolf stepped into the clearing, a strange vial in its mouth that seemed to glow red. Bucky stood as still as he could, until the wolf stopped before him, staring into his eyes until the wolf dropped the vial, deep red smoke curling from Bucky’s feet into his nostrils as he inhaled.
Bucky winced as pain shot through his chest. He coughed, choking a bit before a pain-filled scream left his lips. He couldn’t stop the screams as pain wracked his body, and he hit his knees, hands scrabbling at his chest as he coughed and moaned. He fell forward, landing against something soft, instead of flat on his face in the dirt. Quiet moans left his lips as he felt claws against his legs, and he felt his body being shifted. He managed to catch a glimpse of lightning streaking across the sky before raindrops fell against his overheated skin. As he felt wind whip his face, his only thought was of you, wondering if just maybe, you’d be waiting for him in heaven.
The damp, cool cloth felt like heaven against Bucky’s overheated skin. Fever raged through his body, but gentle caresses and the cloth helped. He kept hearing a soft, familiar voice repeat his name, but the fever kept pushing him down into unconsciousness.
“Sleep,” the gentle voice murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Bucky whispered the name of his lost Princess, asleep before he could hear the voice’s response.
“His fever should have broken by now.” “Perhaps he still had some infection in him.” “You said you got rid of that.” “I don’t know what to tell you, velichiye. Your fever lasted almost as long.”
Bucky was hovering on the edge of consciousness, two feminine voices reaching his ears. He tried to open his eyes, but they were so heavy. He gave a quiet moan, the swishing of skirts filling the space before a damp cloth was pressed
duke aleksei and prince caliban, two of the big NPCs from our dnd campaign! what’s the fun in running a dnd campaign if you can’t fill it up with all your favorite tropes, like star-crossed royals, you know? prince caliban feels the weight of the world on his shoulders and is the character who sent the players on their quest to retrieve the magical items that will prevent the cataclysmic visions he’s been having. duke aleksei is the charming, smartass third-born son of the emperor of the rival nation, currently caught up in a self-destructive streak headed nowhere good. the players - through no prompting from caliban - sought out aleksei to build an alliance when they were up against the wall in his country, and through those interactions put together various timelines and clues - a muttered “thanks, cal,” a matching pair of rings, among other things - and realized that there was more to this relationship than the public knew.
the ceasefire between their two countries is tense, even after decades of held peace, and the idea that there may have been a secret relationship of some kind between the two could easily be turned against one or both of them, depending on who knows and what their agenda is. just another thing for the players to worry about! the players truly already have enough to worry about, but “reconcile these two idiots” is at least SOMEWHERE on the campaign to-do list - we’ll see how it all turns out!
summary:the king has been struck by never-ending grief when he found out about his wife’s infidelity. he has her ordered to be killed, but afterward, he is no longer the same. every night he marries a woman, and every morning he has her killed. the endless cycle continues until the night you’re chosen to be his wife. instead of letting him ruin you, you tell him a story. you tell him a story that he just has to know the ending to. and so begins the story of one thousand and one arabian nights.
pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader
genre: angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, royal au, based off of the story from 1001 arabian nights
word count:10.7k+
warnings: dark content, mdni, 18+,mentions of killing, mentions of taking virginity, has the gallows and a noose in it, praise!kink, corruption!kink, cunnilingus, fingering, cum eating
note:for those who don’t know, baba means dad, and aziz/azizammeans my dear in farsi. this story loosely follows 1001 arabian nights, but not completely. i wasn’t gonna sit on my ass and write them all out
also a big, big, thank you to @jadeisthirstingfor beta reading, ty sm bby!!
The palace smelled deeply of rose petals, a scent so distinctly comforting that you couldn’t help but smile giddily as you walked down the vast halls, looking at the different amenities the palace had to offer as you searched for the room you knew your father would be residing in.
The more you walked, the darker the halls got and the less the smell of rose lingered in the air, a warning to stay away from this part of the palace. Though you had no choice but to ignore the prominent warnings, your posture became more frigid as you hummed a tune you had heard in the bazaar to keep yourself busy.
You were well aware of the fact that your father resided right next to the king’s quarters, so as you slowly opened his door to make sure no noise was heard, entering as you noted your father sitting on the edge of his bed, his wrinkly hands enveloping his tethered face as he could barely bring himself up to look at you.
“Baba,” Your heart dropped, running over to his frail body, your hands checking his forehead as your eyes filled with worry, “What’s wrong? Does your back hurt? Oh,” You noted his worn-out hands, “You have to let the king find another vizier,” You kneaded his hand with yours, “You cannot be his helper forever,” You cracked a gentle smile, but instead of his usual banter, he shook his head, still not looking up from his bed as he sniffled.
“Baba?” Your voice dropped to a whisper. Your father never cried. Never. Not when your mother died, not when the old king died, or even when you had managed to ruin his silken clothing. Despite his hardships, he was the man of the household, and he held himself to that standard.
But here, he looked like the shell of a man. His shoulders were hunched, lips pale as he shuddered, pushing your hands off of his back as he weakly stood up.
“Y/n,” He stared at the door, eyes quite dead as he refused to look your way, terrified that if he did he would crumble to his knees and beg for an apology. Even worse, if he looked at you, his resolve would shatter and he’d leave the room as fast as he could, “Azizam,” You watched as a singular tear rolled down his cheek, “You will have to forgive me.”
You shakily rose, brows scrunched up in confusion as you let out a question laugh, walking over to him to see what he was talking about, what had gotten him so shaken up that he used such an endearing nickname he had never used before this day.
“The king has asked for you to spend the evening with him,” He muttered, voice hoarse and raspy as he broke down into tears again.
“He…” Your shaky hands flew to your lips, eyes wide as you stumbled back, “He what?” Your frantic questions went unanswered as your father let more of his endless tears fall, wet lips holding back silent sobs as he turned back.
The king, a dreaded name for those around the palace. You childishly thought that being the daughter of the vizier would somehow spare you of the torture, of the horror that came with going into his quarters at midnight.
He said nothing as he crumpled down to the floor, hands covering his eyes as you stared at the door, the same one you had entered through, and the same one that seemed to mock you as your hands shook at your side.
One evening pleasuring the king meant spending the next morning dead.
—
Servants flocked to the room shortly thereafter.
They paid no attention to the old man as they ushered you outside, their nimble fingers working swiftly as they led you to a completely different room, stripping you bare as you worked mindlessly.
You fell into the large basin, cold water splashing across your body as they worked in silence, some here and there whispering words of pity to one another as they gossiped about your father’s weakened state.
You knew that deep down, sooner or later, this day would come. That one night they will take you to get clean and pretty so that the king can spend his lonely night with a virgin to bed, and by morning have her dead so that she may not betray him.
You could guess why you were giving off no emotions as their hands scraped your body rid of the dirt and dust, rubbing rose petals across your flesh, running water through your hair as they worked quickly and effortlessly.
At this point, you knew they had done this many times to know to be quick with the king’s impatient temper.
You seemed to be like a mindless doll as they carried you out of the tub, staying quiet as one lady braided your hair, gentle as she wove flowers into the crown of your head.
You watched as the other carefully dotted the roses across your cheeks, dipping her finger into the jar of honey as she brought it up, careful not to let any of it to waste as she swiped it across your lips, her eyes filled with deep sorrow as you stared out the windows and into the dark veil of night.
“You look very beautiful, azizam,” The old lady behind you muttered, her kind hands letting go of your hair as she gave your shoulder a gentle pat, “I’m sure your father would be proud of his daughter for serving the nation.
Serving the nation in your one day demise.
“You have not been…” The old lady sighed, looking away as her hands fell to her side, “You have not been bedded yet, yes?”
You slowly shook your head, muttering out a quiet no as she nodded, ushering out all the other ladies as she came to your view, dropping down so that she was level with your knees.
“You are the vizier’s daughter, so you must know,” She stated, her hands holding your cold ones as she pressed a soft kiss to the backside of it, “After you go into his room, he will tell you what he wants. When morning comes, he will have you killed.”
“I have heard it’s quick and painless, “ She sighed, giving you a sad smile, “Yet those who have experienced it cannot tell the tale, and so I don’t want you to weigh too deeply on my words, okay aziz?”
The old lady looked down at your hands as she took in a shaky breath, lifting your chin as she patted your cheek carefully.
“The time is almost midnight,” She said and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, “He should be expecting us soon.”
—
His quarters were cold, that was the first thing you noticed.
You expected frost to be on the windows, and your breath to be visible in the moonlight, but you could only shudder as you looked around the candle-lit room, wondering when the apparent king was going to make his appearance.
Your shoulders were covered by the robes they had given you, but you still shivered as you took a slow step forward, expecting an echo to follow suit.
You jumped when the door behind you clicked opened, and you looked behind to see his looming shadow behind you, growing slowly as he took steps forward, and you could feel his icy gaze taking you in.
His white hair matched the surroundings, and his eyes, oh his eyes. So blue, such a color seemed to be unknown to humankind. You wanted to reach in and hold his face so you could see if he had diamonds in his sockets, but you knew to restrain yourself, straining your spine as you matched his stare.
You had heard of the king’s attractive outward appearance. Even when he had ordered for his old wife and her concubines to be executed, many of the women of the nation volunteered to fill her place as they never thought a man with such grace could be so cruel.
“My king,” You said with a deep bow, the shawl that loosely covered your shoulders almost slipping off your skin at the movement.
“Are you Y/n?” He asked, his voice deep and rich as he circled you, taking in your hair, the way your face seemed to shine brightly with the help of the candles, and how the robe around your shoulder hung snuggly around your body.
“Yes,” You bit out, swallowing your fear as you turned with him, not wanting the man to see your true emotions.
“You’re the oldest daughter of Ja’far?” His gaze traveled across your frame, settling seconds longer on your lips until they left as they glanced at the window.
“Yes,” You said through clenched teeth, the unsettling blue in his eyes reminding you that you were simply a lamb in the lion’s den.
You watched as he slowly nodded, his jaw set in place as he glanced around the room, his nose wrinkling at the overpowering rose scent that lingered in your neck and wrists.
“I’m Satoru,” He said, though you already knew that, “And I can assure you that these next hours aren’t as you’ve heard,” He mentioned with a tilt in his voice, but that only made your heartbeat more erratically, most likely the opposite of how he wanted you to react.
He worked by taking his gloves off, slender finger after slender finger, and he dropped them somewhere to the side, running a hand through his hair as he turned his back towards you, sighing deeply as he pinched his nose.
He moved to get something behind you, a drink the servants had laid out for him as he took in a heavy sip, his lips tainted red with the wine as he stared at the back of your head.
His hands were slow yet delicate as they found their way up to your hips, and you let out a quiet yelp as you felt his cold fingers tracing the patterns that adorned your robes.
“You’re pretty,” He muttered, his breath fanning over the skin of your neck, making you shiver, almost making you forget where you were as you felt your knees wobble from the weight of your body, “Haven’t seen you before, have I?” And you weakly shook your head, your heart pounding roughly against your ribcage as you felt his lips land on the skin beneath your ear, surprisingly gentle and warm as they kissed and nipped.
“You’re sweet, too,” He observed, and you could have sworn that have only lined your lips with honey, but he seemed intent on his statement, his lips moving more quickly as his hands reached up to the strings that tie your robes together.
And you froze, knowing that if he were to proceed, he’d surely kill you in the morning. And wouldn’t allow yourself to die tomorrow. You could not die to a man who wanted nothing more than to take your humanity and then dispose of you as if you were stale rice. You had a life planned outside of the palace walls, and you knew that deep down, this king could be manipulated in his fragile state of mind.
Your eyes darted around the room, trying to find anything to secure yourself until they landed on a jeweled knife, its handle crusted in rubies and emeralds and your eyes widened slightly with a mad, certainly mad, idea.
It was sharp and cleaned with precision. Sharp and versatile, and you didn’t doubt he had used it in the act of killing.
“That knife!” You sputtered out, stuttering as you stumbled forward out of his grasp, almost hoping you could swallow the words back at the way he snapped his head towards you.
“What?”
“A man once used that exact knife to get through the mountains of Zagros,” You quickly regained yourself, mind running quickly, two sides of yourself debating between doing this or sleeping with the king to quicken your eventual death.
The king stared at the knife for a couple of seconds before looking at you once again, his brows furrowed.
“Excuse me?”
You straightened your shoulders once again, clearing your throat as you tried to regain your confidence.
“A man that went by the name Aghā Ali,” You said, voice barely coming out of your throat as you tried to think of something as quickly as you could in your messed state, “When his daughter fell ill to the plague, he became desperate to find a cure. The village apothecary told him to go to the Zagros mountains and cut the red flowers he’d find in a field,” You nodded your head in the direction of the knife, “And he used a knife just like that one to cut the stem of the flowers when he found them…”
Silence fell in the space between the two of you, and you could see the rise and fall of his chest as millions of ideas running through his crystalline eyes.
“Are you telling me a story?” He asked incredulously, almost as if he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.
You cleared your throat, trying to shrug it off as you stared back at the knife.
“I’m simply stating that a man once used that knife before to save his daughter.”
“How do you know he used my knife?” He was testing you now, you could easily tell. His lips had curved into an evil smile, a cat’s grin as he took a step closer to you, sensing the fear that still radiated off from your body.
“W-well, not your knife, but one that looked much like that,” You explained, swallowing dryly as you tried for a sweet smile, one that he might like, as you continued.
“His late wife had given it to him as a present, and so he used it wherever he went, for whatever that he could.”
The king didn’t say anything, so you took it as a sign that he wasn’t angry yet.
So you moved, putting on the facade of somebody confident in their story as you slyly moved behind him, causing him to follow your quick feet as you walked over to the table, careful as you picked up the heavy dagger.
It was strange in your hand, and you could tell how uneasy he felt with the weapon in your hand.
So you set it down, nodding as you swallowed your spit once again.
“Ali didn’t know his way around the mountains, so he got lost frequently in search of the flower,” Your fingers traced the rubies, shaking as you turned the knife over, running a pinger across the blade as you winced when it slit your skin, your blood staining it a bright red as you felt his eyes follow you.
“And because he had no map he went off of instinct alone,” You moved around the table, eyes darting to the slick pillows and shawls fit for a king.
“At night, he would lay under the moon and use his knife as a way to cut the animals open so that he could eat them for dinner. The mountains didn’t have anything big such as deer or goat, but he could hunt the occasional rabbits, even duck if he were lucky enough to pass by a lake.” You looked up at him from your lashes to see what he was doing, and much to your surprise he was staring back just as intently.
“The man knew that with each passing day his daughter would be getting sick and sicker, and though she was stronger than his wife in terms of physical strength, the plague took no longer than a month to kill even the strongest of the king’s soldiers, according to the village apothecary.”
Your robes felt heavy on your sides as you moved around the room, feeling the weight of everything slow you down as you tried to quickly think of more things to drag the story on.
“So he continued the track across the mountain, getting weaker by the hour, more tired by the minute and he still could not find the flowers he needed to heal his daughter.”
“Why go through so much?” The king interrupted, clearly annoyed with the way your story was going.
You stammered at the question, brows furrowing as you tried to make sense of it.
“Go through so much?” You repeated, shaking your head, forgetting who you were and where you were as you tilted your head to the side, “ I’m not sure I understand,”
He shook his head, looking at the dagger as he simply shrugged.
“The old man must be withering away in these conditions. If the girl would die in a matter of weeks, why should he push himself to such an extent?”
“Because it’s his daughter,” You quickly argued back, eyes narrowing as the king moved forward, taking off his heavy coats as he sighed in relief at the release of the material.
“And?”
“Well…” You sighed; realizing this must be difficult to explain to this particular man, “He cares for her and he doesn’t like to see his daughter in pain. He’s going through all this hard to make sure that she’ll be alright.” He scoffed as his hands found their way to a bowl, taking out one of the dates as he chewed on it before he spits the seed out.
“That seems like a figment of the imagination,” The king chewed and then swallowed, his blue eyes never leaving yours as he explained, “Fathers don’t care much for their daughters.”
A part of you boiled in outrage at the statement.
“Perhaps some don’t, my king, but that doesn’t mean all fathers carry no ounce of care for their daughters,” He could see your tremor fade off as it soon got replaced with fiery anger.
“No?” He asked coyly, talking out another date as he repeated the same actions.
“No,” You said without letting your voice waver.
“Then why did your father offer you up tonight? Surely he could have picked your other sister if he cared for you that much. Or the servant that’s standing right outside my door. Or maybe even the girl who cleans up the horse shit in the stables. Surely a fathers love my reach beyond that point, no?”
You could feel your resolve crumble as you listened to his words, your heart heavy isn’t the small expanse of your chest as you refused to breathe properly.
Did he simply offer you up as easily as the king was saying? Just like a lamb for slaughter?
“Just as I was saying,” He continued, happy with your obvious shock, “I find it rather hard to believe that Ali would go through the mountains of Zagros to find a flower for his dying daughter.”
He looked pleased with your silent state, watching keenly as you swallowed the thick lump accumulating in your throat. You took in a deep breath, controlling the shake in your voice as you stared at something behind him.
“The old man was relentless,” You continued the story, pretending that your conversation with the king was nothing, and missed the way his face fell for a second, taken back by the way you could compose yourself with clear tears making their way into your waterline, “But the flower was hard to find.”
“One night as the man was cleaning out his rabbit, he stopped when he noticed the rabbit had red petals lining the fur near its lips.”
“And so he cut the stomach to find it full of red petals, the same color as the flower he was so desperately trying to find.”
“The next day he went in search of rabbits with the same fur, and that night he was able to catch another one with the same petals in its stomach.”
“And so the old man followed the trail of rabbits until he one day, miraculously stumbled across a field full of the red flowers.”
“He was eager as he stuffed them in his satchel, memorizing the path he had taken as he passed by the old streams and lines of trees, his bad bursting at the seam with red relates and green stems.”
You stopped, tilting your head to the side as you gave out another yawn, oblivious to the fact that in the minutes you had spent thinking of more to tell, and in the hours you had spent explaining the complexity of the story to the king, the sun had begun peeking its way through the mountains.
“So when he got back home, his daughter told him that she only had a couple of days left to live before the plague got to her,” You didn’t notice how the king had risen from his satin seat, walking slowly over to you as his impatience got the best of him.
“And then?”
You whipped your head around at the sound, heart beating wildly in your chest at his unexpected voice.
“He cut the flowers up and mixed them in with tea, and each day he’d double the amount of the flowers he would use,” Your bodies were close to each other, so close that despite his tall stance you could feel his breath hitting your cheek, his eyes following the rise and fall do your chest.
“Did she not like the tea?” His voice was taunting and you shook your head, trying for the same menacing smile he was giving you.
“No,” You moved away from him, your robes swaying behind you as his gaze traveled across your swift movements, “She loved it. Each day she’d ask for triple the number of flowers instead of double,” Your eyes were trained on the window that pointed to the east.
“But,” You gnawed on your lip, “Ali didn’t realize that what he was doing was wrong,” You could hear him moving from behind you, his feet padded on the ground.
“And why is that?”
Your eyes darted to the window, the way the sun amazingly shone through the stained glass and colored his snow hair a mix of blues and yellows, something that your somber mind never thought you’d see again.
“The sun is coming up, my king,” You noted, your voice catching in the back of your throat as if you couldn’t believe what you were saying. It seemed that he too, couldn’t believe such a thing as he looked behind himself in doubt.
The two of you said nothing as his eyes widened for a second, lips parted in a shock as he looked at you in relative incredulity.
“My king…” You whispered, voice hoarse as you swallowed thickly, praying that your devious plan was working its way to the man, “What should I do?”
The king could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief, eyes narrowing as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as his kind ran with millions of thoughts about what he should do with you.
Never had somebody stalled him for the entirety of the night, let alone made him want to know more about the woman before he had her ordered to be killed. And despite him deep down knowing that this would surely ruin everything he had done to barricade his lonely heart, he shook his head slowly, brows scrunched up in confusion as he admitted to himself that he wanted to know the rest of your story.
“No,” He muttered out to himself, shaking his head as he glanced over at you, but it weighed heavily in the expanse of his room, “Come tonight and finish the story.”
And he didn’t need to say it to know that you had managed to get the king hooked.
—
When the door creaked open with the maids once again lamentable at the fact that they’d be leading you to your death, they were surprised to still find your robes adjourning your shoulders, and the look of both dissatisfaction and something more lining the king’s face.
They all stared at him, waiting for the same orders that would tumble out of his mouth every morning, but he just waved them aside, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered out a quiet, “I expect you to finish tonight,” Before he shrugged his coat back on as he stalked out of the room.
As he moved past the servants, all the ladies stared back at you, mouths hanging open in shock, their hearts pounding in their ears, mirroring yours as the old lady who had bathed you the night before took a tentative step into the bedroom.
“Y/n…?” She asked slowly, testing to see how you would react, to see if he had done anything that could have broken both you and the cruel king to such a point, “Is everything alright?”
You stared at her, giving her a slow nod of your head as you couldn’t believe you were able to see the sun rising and hear the laughs of bewilderment that came from the servants behind the old lady.
“Did he say he wants to see her again?” One of the younger girls peeped up, and everyone snapped their heads over to her, the question everybody was wondering finally spoken out loud.
“I think he did,” One of the girls behind her answered, still not believing what they were hearing.
“What did you do?” Another one asked, testing gazes all focused on you, curious, begging to know just what you had done to break the streak of killings.
“I,” You sighed, rubbing your throat as you pushed some hair behind your ears, letting out a skeptical laugh, “I just told him a story.”
—
That night, they did the same thing as the previous one.
They stripped you down, this time a bit more gentle as they weren’t much grime to scrub off, but still generous in the amount of fragrance they dabbed all over your body.
“Tonight,” The old lady who you had come to learn was named Nasreen, muttered softly, quiet enough for only you to hear, “Draw out your stories. Make them more interesting than the last,” She whispered into your ear as she led you back towards the king’s quarters, “I have never seen the king so,” She paused looking for the right word, “Forgiving as he was last night. You must have made an impact on him,” Her voice was laced with pride yet worried, “Don’t forget to make him more enthralled tonight than the last, alright?”
You merely nodded, tongue heavy in your mouth as you thought of all the stories you had come up with in the hours leading up to now, that in the hassle of the palace trying to get you prepared for the king you came up with the most fantastical stories you could think of.
“Y/n,” She stopped you right behind the familiar door, “I wish you all the luck,” She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, scuffling away as the clock near midnight once again, fearful that if she stayed long enough she’d get too attached to you. And she had learned her lesson before.
Your eyes were trained on the door handle, hands filled with heavy lead as you raised them to the gold knob, giving it a slow twist as it opened easily into the freezing room.
It was dark, just as you remembered it being the previous night. The chilly air wrapped itself unwillingly across your frame, and with each heavy step, you took forward, the more dread-filled itself inside your head.
“Close the door,” His voice called out from the bundle of blankets and pillows that were laid out on the floor. You jumped when you noticed he had been there the entire time, shutting the wood quickly behind you as you shuffled inside.
“My king,” You gave him the customary bow, your heart pounding roughly in your ears as you heard some noise come from his side of the room, the ruffling of fabrics as he stood up, walking his distance towards you.
He said nothing as you lifted your head, his sapphirine eyes meeting yours as they stared boredly ahead, as if he could be more amused, and grunted, muttering something to himself as he walked away, picking up a date from the bowl as he pitted it and munched on it slowly.
“You seem displeased,” He noted, looking at your frigid body, “Are you not comfortable?” His white hair moved as he tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out why you seemed so reserved.
You chuckled a bit in surprise, not thinking him to be of the right mind to ask such a question.
“My king,” You started, thinking of the nicest way to phrase what you were going to say next, “Forgive my outward appearance but…” You laughed again, almost to yourself that he could even be confused, “I must admit, I have reason to be drawn away.”
He looked back at you, eyebrow cocked as your fingers picked at each other, your mouth brought in a thin line as you looked around the room, anywhere to escape his heavy gaze.
“If you are not comfortable standing,” He gestured to the space to his side, “There is ample room for you to reside as you finish your story,”
You swallowed thickly, thinking of what would happen if you agreed to his offer. Sitting next to him, in such proximity, could insinuate things that you were trying to hold off for as long as you could.
But your feet were already tired from standing for so long last night, and with the hecticness of the day that followed, you found your body disobeying your rational mind as it slowly brought you over to his residing area.
You could see his sly grin growing at your willingness to come over, and you watched as he moved his slender legs to the side, letting you almost break to the ground as you let out a small groan of pleasure at how soft the fabric lay beneath you.
His eyes widened slightly at the sound, his heart beating rapidly as your lids shut for a second, your face momentarily blissed out as you craved for such relaxation until they snapped back open, remembering just where you were.
“S-so,” You cleared your throat, moving away as far as you could as you rest your back on the wall, “If you so please, I can continue with the story of Aghā Ali.” You paused to see his reaction, and he gave a little nod of his head, allowing for you to continue.
“The flowers he had been told to get from the mountain were useless, and even worse, doing more damage than good. The apothecary who told him to find the flowers was a greedy man who had been in love with Ali’s wife, and now daughter, and could only see them as his own or as dead.” You peeked over to see what the king was doing and was somewhat surprised to see him staring back intently at you.
“In a jealous and insane rage, the apothecary had been poisoning the bread that Ali and his daughter ate, and despite all his best tries, Ali seemed immune to the lethal dosages he was receiving. So, in hopes of trying to get rid of him, he told Ali that the flowers found in the Zagros mountains would be the only cure,” He sat up, supporting his head in his hands as his eyes narrowed.
“Why not kill him?” He asked and you paused, licking your lips as you smiled, glad to have anticipated his question beforehand.
“Because killing Ali would mean that he would no longer be allowed to go to Jannah, and the apothecary was weary of the sins he committed.” His eyes shined a darker shade of blue at your statement.
“Unfortunately for the apothecary, Ali was a bright man and could pick up on the flowers’ dangerous properties. Ali was also aware of the apothecary’s jealous fit and quickly put the two and two together. So, instead of wasting time spending his rage on the apothecary, he decided to wait.” You crossed your ankles together, adjusting your robe as you shivered, the air still cold no matter how much you adjusted your shawl.
“To wait?” He interrupted, lips pursed and brows furrowed in confusion. You got worried that he was losing his interest in your story, but he sat up, his white hair falling as curls on his face, eyes still shimmering blue as he tilted his head, “He decided to wait?”
His childish demeanor not only made you startled, but you could help but let your lips tug into a smile, and you tried to cover it up with a cough as you nodded.
“Ali was a very observant man. He could tell that whenever his daughter ate the bread, the sicker she got. So he waited, feeding her only bone broth and tea, without the flowers, of course,”
“And just as Ali had suspected after he stopped feeding her the bread and the flowers, she got healthier with each passing day. When the apothecary realized that Ali had once again won over his devious plan, he gave up,” You looked over to the jewel-encrusted knife, “And the apothecary slit his throat as a final testimony to his dying will.”
You could see how the king’s eyes widened, his lips parting as he became even more confused.
“That’s it?” He interjected, “He dies?” Bile rose to your throat, terrified that you had only upset the king until you tried to calm yourself down, your plan steady in your head as you raised your hands in a gesture to calm him down.
“For that story, yes, my king, but I also happen to know another story that you might enjoy,” It was a sudden change, but you wanted him to forget who he was for a second, to look past everything so that you could continue.
You could see something happening behind his stoic gaze, how his eyes narrowed once again, trying to sniff out your ingenuity, but you offered him a tender smile, one that held more behind it than he could tell, and the king only sighed, laced with annoyance and anger because of your stranglehold on his curiosity, and he glanced out the window.
“Well, hurry on with it,” He muttered, falling back down as he picked up another date to chew on.
And you grinned widely and didn’t care if he could see.
“My king, I doubt you’ve heard the story of the seven voyages of Sinbad…”
—
And so, the cycle continued.
You found yourself in his quarters night after night, evading death by ending on a cliffhanger that the king could only hear if he extended your death by one more day. Every night, you’d finish the story and start on another, prompting the king to a circle of never-ending stories.
The palace, stalked by your boldness to make the king enamored by your storytelling, began working like clockwork, giving you time to yourself to sleep during the day, as well as time to think up new and enticing stories the king may like.
You could tell he had a knack for adventures, and so you tried to make each one more exciting than the last. He was fond of poems of love and war, though he seemed to prefer stories of erotica more.
He was cruel, and even in the daytime, when you didn’t see much of him, you heard of his doings. While he seemed to be keen on not killing you until you run dry of things to tell, he still ruled with an iron fist, and the woes of the nation were only going unheard.
“Y/n,” The king interrupted you one night, pushing himself up by the elbows as he looked at you in your bundled-up corner, “What do you see?”
Your brows scrunched up in confusion at his question, and you squint to see what he was looking at.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I understand,” Your fingers fidgeted with one another as the king scoffed and he licked his teeth, weaving his hand through his hair as he motioned for you to come closer to him.
You slowly obliged, crawling over to where he was sitting as you gave yourself some space from his side.
You could notice his features more clearly here when the candle could illuminate his features better. His hair was arctic white, white than the snow that would litter the ground in the colder months. And his skin was pale and easily flushed red, almost as if the man refused to go outside in the summer. And his eyes, you could recall just how entranced they made you when you saw them at first. They seemed so hypnotizing, so surreal, that had this man not sent a chill through your bones, they might have put you under his charms spell.
“In the paintings, what do you see?” His eyes were trained on the wall, and you looked ahead, your mind reeling as you took in the different men and women painted in the photo, and what the artist could have meant when they drew it.
“I see…” You looked a bit longer, tilting your head to the right to get a better view, “A man being seduced by a woman,” You inspected the painting longer, “She seems like a witch of some sorts, maybe an enchantress,” You gnawed on your lip as you took in the background of the mural, “And she’s been able to lure him to his demise, judging by the red on her robes.”
You looked to the side to see what the king was thinking, only to him glancing at you, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you quickly looked away.
“I don’t see where you got the seducing aspect,” He admitted, and he shifted his weight onto his other hand.
Your brows furrowed at how he could miss such an obvious message. You raised your hand, pointing out to the woman as he followed the direction, “You see how her wrist is turned as she’s greeting him? Normally, you’d see people who try to romance one another have opening gestures, but she’d be more closed off and alluring. She dressed in red with minimal jewelry, which can mean that the man prefers somebody dressed down rather than inviting.” You explain and the king let out a small chuckle.
“You got all that from how her wrists were turned?” Your cheeks heated up once again as his eyes twinkle at your obvious embarrassment, and you looked away, shrugging as his smile only grew.
“Many of the artists I know explain the little details to me,” You muttered, “And you asked how I interpreted the piece. You got my answer,” He wanted to coo at the way your lips pouted, at how much less tense you seemed to be over time, and just how alluring you seemed to be when you childishly scooted away from him.
“You know artists?” He asked, perplexed by the outside life you shared and he knew little of it.
“Of course,” You nodded, “The bazaar is full of them. If I have time I walk around aimlessly, for the fun of it. You meet many interesting people where you’d least expect them,” You rubbed your nose, your eyelids growing heavier as the night continued.
“The bazaar,” He repeated to himself, and you glanced over to see him looking longingly at the painting, “I used to be quite the fanatic of the bustling streets.”
“You don’t go anymore?” You asked and he shook his head. Had he not been adorned in royal clothing and his title so glaringly obvious, you would have felt as though you were having a simple conversation with a friend, not the tyrant king everybody had come to fear.
“They’ve become a rather dark staple for me,” He admitted, “I can’t say I’m most eager to go back.”
You scoffed, your shoulder shoving his as his eyes widened in surprise by your out-of-character move.
“Everything has become a dark staple for you, my king. You cannot expect to outlive your past if everything you see reminds you of it,” Even sitting, he towered over you, and he had to crane his neck to stare at you in the eyes.
“There are some things I prefer to remember,” He gritted out, his lips turned into an unpleasant snarl as his eyes darkened, clouded by memories.
“I’m not saying you should forget, my king,” You toned your voice down in hopes of calming him down, “I’m saying that you move on.”
He scoffed, cheeks tinted a fiery red as he puffed his cheeks out, his stance now defensive as he turned his head away from you.
“What should you know?”He bit out, rolling his eyes at the thought of somebody like you understanding the utter betrayal he had gone through. The feeling of his heart being ripped apart piece by piece until everything in him stopped functioning because his entire world had come crumbling down.
“Idon’t know,” You told him, your voice soft as if carrying itself to his fragile mind, “But heartbreak is an unstoppable force, my king, and you cannot stop it from ruining your state of being. But it’s better if you move on and be-”
“I can’t move on!” He instantly roared, his voice shaking as he whipped around towards you, his shadow great in size as it dwarfed you in its presence, “Can’t you see that?” His voice wobbled for a second, and in his shaking glare, you could see his eyes water, how they seemed to dim in their crystalline glow as his lips shook.
You raised a hand to his chest, gently pushing him back as he easily complied, and you sighed, pushing some hair out of your forehead as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Your wife is dead, my king. You had her killed. She cannot haunt you any more than in thoughts,” You could hear his sniffles, how he shook when he took in a breath.
“I can’t move on,” He repeated thickly, “It hurts so much,”
“The pain is bare, my king,” You said slowly, “But what you have caused in its wake is destruction. You cannot think yourself to be healing in the act of death.”
You had feared you had said too much, but he only looked at you, hiccups leaving his mouth as his head fell onto your shoulder, and felt his tears wetly stain your robes.
“You don’t deserve this,” He said, “They didn’t deserve it,” He groaned into your coat as if realization was finally dawning on him.
“I’m sorry,” He wept out, and at this moment he was no longer a king, but a weak man who had his share of the world.He muttered it out over and over again until his cries and his apologies filled the air in the royal room.
You didn’t know who he was apologizing to. To you, to the women, he had killed, to himself, or to the man he killed when he began his endless cycle of murder.
“Satoru?” You tried for the first time, his name foreign on your tongue you felt his shaking stop, his wet lips breaths away from your skin that was revealed as he accidentally tugged on your robes.
“Stay,” He whispered into your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moved around, shuffling so that he was off of your body, yet somehow he managed to bring you onto his lap, “I don’t care for a story,” He muttered as he looked up at you, “Sleep here tonight,” His large hands steadied themselves on your hips, gentle as you slowly nodded, his lips wet as they traced the skin near yours, soft and caring, a far cry from how you thought they’d be.
“But…” You were worried that he’d be tired of you by morning, realizing that you’re not what he bargained for, but the king shook his head, almost as if he could read your thoughts.
“I just want you to stay, nothing more,” He muttered against your skin, your fingers subconsciously rubbing his hair as he sighed contently at the feeling.
“Okay,” You muttered out, your lash fluttering against your cheek as you nodded, feeling his lips curl into a small smile as you relaxed into his hold, his arm doing all the work as they held you to his chest, cradling you to his body as if you were his only lifeline.
You knew that it was the king that was holding you as if you were his only support, that without you to hold at this moment he would sink into the floor below your bodies and disappear forever.
—
When morning came you felt a heavy arm wrap itself around your waist, and your eyes groggily opened as you felt little puffs of air hitting your neck, and you turned around to find the king fast asleep.
You moved away a bit, and felt his hand dip from your body, and didn’t see his eyes snap open to see you rising, your hair messed up, eyes groggy but still beautiful as he could only stare at the way the sun illuminated your soft skin.
“Mornin’,” He muttered, not used to waking up to a woman without feeling the ache of the night before, but the way you laughed softly at his tired state brought him back to reality.
“Good morning,” You replied, rubbing your eyes as you yawned, a gentle smile making its way up to your face as you watched him turn onto his back, his eyes still heavy from sleep as you giggled.
“I need some water,” You muttered and he cracked an eye open, getting ready to stand up until you pushed him back down, “I’ll be right back,” You corrected and he grumbled something out, blue eyes shutting anyways as sleep took a hold of the king once again.
You rubbed your eyes one last time before you stood up, groaning quietly as you stretched your legs, making note of the fact that you had never slept so comfortably before as you made your way to the door.
The hallways were lit with candles, and you quietly shut the door behind you as you tiptoed your way out, looking around to find two of the palace guards standing outside, already anticipating you from the way they instantly looked at your frame.
You had never seen them before, and while you were familiar with the guards that usually stood outside, these seemed more menacing than usual.
“Good morning,” You said sheepishly, trying to move past one of them when he blocked the way.
“Um,” You scratched your head, looking around to see if there was anybody familiar, “I’m sorry, but I need a pitcher of water for the king’s room if you’ll let me…” You went to outstep the guard but the second one now blocked your path.
You looked up at them in confusion, your lips pursed together as you laughed uncomfortably.
“May I leave, please?” You tried for another laugh, but their faces remained stoic.
You had never seen them before, and you doubted they knew you judging by the way their faces remained unchanged. Their swords were perched on their hips, and their gazes never altered.
“Come with us, miss,” The first guard said, his voice deep as he took a sudden grip on your elbow, rough as he pulled you away without letting you walk.
“W-wait, excuse me, I just need some water,” You quickly explained but they said nothing as they led you down the hall, their face never changing as you tried to wrangle out of their tight grips.
“Sirs! Please!” They said nothing as you thrashed around, their hands only holding you with a more bruising force as you tried to break free, “I only need a pitcher, that’s all,” Your eyes were frantic, heart in your throat as you tried to think of anything you had done to warrant such behavior.
“They’re always so fuckin’ rowdy,” One of them muttered to the other, obvious displeasure on his face as his fingers tightened around your arm.
You tried to think of what he was referring to when your eyes widened in understanding.
“The king knows me!” You shouted, “He’s asked for me not to be killed!” You tried to explain but the guards only laughed, and you felt your chest fall as they led you down a passage you had never been through before.
“I’m Y/n!” you explained, but they had no idea who you were, “I’m a friend of the kings!” But you didn’t even know if the king would call you that. You told him stories to keep him entertained and you out of the execution chambers, but these guards snorted at your statement.
With their strength, they had practically lifted you off the ground, and no matter how much you kicked your legs and screamed for them to let you, they seemed intent on leading you to wherever you were headed.
A voice in the back of your head already knew where.
“Please!” You shouted, your eyes tearing up, “Ask the king, he knows me!” And one of the guards behind you decided that he had had enough of your shouting, and used his unused hand to slap it roughly over your mouth, muffling your screams.
Your breathing got shallower and rougher the more you tried to break free, and the darker the hallways got the more your body weakened, and you felt yourself grow limp in their holds as they stopped in front of an iron door.
One reached into his pockets as he brought out some keys, flipping through them until he found the right one. He jammed it in the hole and the door swung open, revealing the horror that you had guessed would be inside.
An array of gallows sat in the middle, the ground littered with dried blood as you screamed again.
“I-I’m his storyteller!” You explain hurriedly, but the guards don’t seem to mind as they bring you closer to the noose, “I tell the king stories!” That got one of the guards to laugh, and you whimpered as the noose came closer into view.
“Ask the king, p-please!” You cried out, tears wetting your eyes as your voice caught in the back of your throat, “I tell him stories! I’m a friend of his!”
It meant nothing to the guards as they heaved you up onto the wooden pedestal, grasping your hands behind your back as they tied it over and over with scratchy rope, their hands rough as they pushed you forward, wrapping some dirtied cloth around your mouth to silence your screams.
You felt your tears collect on the cloth, and you felt lightheaded as one of the men began securing the noose around your throat.
“Stand on the trapdoor,” One of the men gruffed out but you hurriedly shook your head, trying to tell them that you weren’t who they thought you to be.
Tired of your antics, the man shoved your forward, and you stumbled and your eyes widened as the noose tightened around your neck, your breath lodging itself in the little crevices of your lungs.
You watched as the men walked over to the front, their hands outstretched to pull the lever as they stopped when they heard a loud crash happen outside the door.
Three sets of eyes snapped to the iron working as it slammed open, revealing a panting king as he stared widely inside the room, wasting no time as guards poured in, the maids that usually came to collect you in the morning puffing out air as they sighed in relief, relieved to find you alive.
“What the fuck is happening?” Satoru shouted out, his eyes raging as he saw you atop the gallows, cheeks stained with tears, mouth covered, a noose around your neck as he felt his breathing momentarily stop, “Y/n?” His eyes widened in shock as he saw the noose around your neck, your cheeks glistening with tears as your screams were muffled.
His eyes snapped over to the two guards, their expressions comedic had they not been seconds away from killing you.
The king was quick in his movements as he rushed towards you, quick as he climbed the gallow, his slender fingers nimble as they worked the noose off of your neck, and then quick to tug down the tear-stained cloth that covered your mouth.
His eyes were feverish as they searched you, his hands on either side of your face as he checked for injuries.
“Are you,” His voice wavered for a second as you stared back up at him, both of your hearts pounding at the same pace as he tried to catch his breath, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
All of the guards and servants watched in fascination as their ruthless king fell apart, his hands shaking as you smiled gently, shaking your head no to his hurried question.
“I,” Your throat was hoarse, and you realized what had led to this mess in the first place, “I just want some water,” You sheepishly admitted to Gojo’s frantic stare, and could see his resolve crack as he gave you a quick laugh, cradling your head gently as he led you out of the execution chambers and back into the forgiving bright light of the hallways.
—
The following night, the servants were extra careful as they prepared you for the king.
Their hands were more forgiving as they scrubbed the dirt off of your body, and their fingers kind as they slathered lotion upon your neck. Their smiles were caring as they rubbed rose petals across your wrists, and their words were hushed as though not to disturb you.
They could tell without asking questions that you weren’t how you usually were and didn’t doubt that going back into the king’s chambers would be more nerve-wracking than ever.
The robes they had dressed you in were softer than usual, and they kept it low with the fragrance as though not to give you a headache after everything you had gone through in the past couple of hours.
“Y/n,” Nasreen gently shook your shoulders to wake you out of your trance, “It’s time to go.”
And so you silently followed her on the familiar path to his room, your head heavy with pain as she knocked once, and then twice on the door.
It swung open after a couple of seconds to reveal the king in a disheveled state, his hair in disarray, eyes darker than usual as he seized you up, opening the door a bit wider so that you could come inside.
It shut quickly behind you, and you didn’t have time to turn around to say goodbye to the old lady before the king, Satoru, had led you inside.
The air was heavy as the two of you refused to look the other in the eye, unsaid guilt present in your stances as you went to open your mouth.
“My king, if you’d so wish, I can contin-” You didn’t have any time to prepare for the way his body threw itself at yours, a heavyweight pushing itself into your chest until you were roughly backed into the wall, his hand the only thing saving your head from bumping harshly into it.
His lips were hungry, ravenous, as they searched yours. They were agile and quick, not giving you time to breathe as his hand cradled your jaw, tilting your head ever so carefully so that he could gain better access to you.
You felt your tongues and teeth clash with one another, and despite your inexperience, you tried to match his quick pace. Any logical reasoning flew out of your head as his soft lips traveled upward, kissing your cheek, your forehead, and anything he could to remind himself that you were alive.
Your eyes opened as you felt him move downwards, his mouth hot against the column of your throat as he nipped at the skin gently, his teeth somehow gentle in their way as though not to hurt the fragile skin.
He’d press chaste kisses anywhere he could, his hands secure on your waist as the king looked up at you, and for the first time since your arrangement, you saw real fear in his sapphire eyes.
“Thought I lost’ya,” He muttered into your skin, his hands grasping onto the fabric of your robes as he tried to tug them off, “Thought I fuckin’ lost’ya forever,” His voice shook with raw emotion as your hands flew to his hair, bringing him back up as his hands worked at the knots that secured your robes together.
“It’s gonna,” You sighed as the cool hair hit your naked skin, your nipples pebbling up as your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, “It’ll take a lot more to get rid of me, my king,” You tired fo a joke but the words died down on your tongue as he latched onto one of your breasts, his hands occupying the other one as he kneaded it.
“Don’t joke about that,” He murmured against you, your nipples glistening with spit as he detached himself from you, “Don’t ever wanna think about it,” He whispered, and your eyes fluttered shut as his slender fingers worked their way down to tracing the skin on your stomach, and you almost sealed as they traveled down dangerously to the apex of your thighs.
He fell to his knees, a true sight to behold as his hair ruffled, your hands clawing into his white locks as you weakly held him in place.
His tongue was hot as it licked at your skin, slow as it neared the area where you were sure was burning up and wasted no time as he slid a finger past your folds, into the slickness of your cunt, and you groaned audibly at the feeling.
It was much different from your fingers, and he was skilled as he added another, your eyes and teeth clenching at the stretch.
“Yer doin’ fuckin’ amazin’,” He muttered in awe at the way you sucked him in, at how wet his fingers became from just a couple of seconds fingering you, “Yer so fuckin’ tight -shit - h-haven’t you ever been…” And he trailed off when you looked away in embarrassment, and his lips parted in understanding as you covered your mouth to silence your whines.
“Oh darlin’,” He muttered, moving away from your pussy as he came back up, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as your eyes watched his every move, “Have you never been touched before?” And even he seemed to forget that he only wanted virgins, yet you could weakly nod, your skin flushing as he hungrily looked at it.
He’s going to ruinyou.
“Well you’re just fuckin’ drippin’,” He said thickly, showing you his fingers as you looked away in embarrassment, but he quietly cooed, sleeping his fingers down your mouth, your eyes widening as you close your lips around them, brows furrowing at the odd taste.
“Sweet as shit, darlin’, better than any of the honey they’ve been rubbin’ on ya,” He muttered, his fingers working quickly as they went in and out quickly, his other thumb rubbing your clit as your eyes rolled back at the heavenly feeling.
“T-toru,” You whined thrashing around in his hold, “F-fuck it feels s-so good,” You hiccupped, your voice weak as you could rarely phrase things together. It was a far cry from how you usually wear, but the man was slowly tearing you apart.
His eyes widened in admiration at how sweetly his name rolled off your tongue, his ministration quickening in pace as he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.
“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” He muttered against your skin, his fingers wet with your nectar as you cried into your hand, “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening at his relentless movements.
“Ugh, Toru, please,” You cried out, your fat tears rolling down your cheek as you couldn’t contain your wanton moans anymore, “Fa-faster!” You were begging, your fingers curling into his hair as he grinned at your unraveling.
More quickly than not, you felt your vision go white, the not snapping as your climax came, the sweet orgasm washing over you as you almost went limp. Had his arms not been supporting you up, you would have crumbled. You could feel yourself spasm around his fingers, but he was slow as he pulled them away, his tongue flushing outwards as he licked them tentatively, moaning at how sweet your essence was as it coated his mouth.
He watched as you went to pull your robes over your body, naively thinking you were done, but Satoru pushed your hands back, shaking his head as his smile menacingly grew.
“I’m not done yet sweetheart,” He moved up as he kissed your lips, your release flooding your taste buds as his spit mixed with yours, and you moaned into his mouth, not used to such a euphoric feeling, “Gods, Y/n, I’m just gettin’ started.”
—
You woke up to your legs aching and throat hoarse from more than just crying.
Your eyes were blinded momentarily by the sun, but you felt a heavyweight stern across your chest, and you looked down to see Satoru’s long arm covering your bare breasts.
Your cheeks heated up as flashes of last night came to you, and suddenly you could barely think straight, shuffling around so much that it woke the very king up.
He was slow as he tried to remember where he was, but a flash of your hair and your awkward smile made him grin charmingly, his arm tightening around your waist as he pulled you deeper into the warmth of his chest.
“Did I wake you?” You asked quietly into his skin, causing him to shiver as the way your shy hand reached up to hold onto his naked hips, to hold him as if he were a staple into your lifeline.
“I was already awake,” he muttered into your cheek, kissing at the mark he had made the previous night, “You’re a beauty when you sleep,” He admitted and you duke your head deeper into his chest at his words.
“My king,” You blinked, swallowing thickly as you looked up at him, terrified to find a monster but instead finding a devoted man, his eyes deep as they stared back down, caring as his lips pursed at the title.
“Satoru,” he muttered, “Don’t call me king,” His fingers played with your hair, his white hair wild as you giggled softly.
“Alright,Satoru,” Your nose nudged at his bicep, “I have a confession to make.” You saw him glance down at you in momentary worry but your eyes twinkle in a playful, childish manner, and he grinned right back.
“I have no more stories to tell you,” You whispered, “They’re all done.”
Satoru said nothing for a couple of minutes as his soft breathing filled the air around you two, and your heart stopped for a second before he let out a loud laugh, joyful and juvenile as his eyes crinkled, his ars pulling you deeper into his body if possible as he littered your face with kisses, hugging you as though you were going to whisk away at any moment.
“I was wondering when you’d run out darlin’,” He exclaimed, pressing a light kiss to your lips as he looked down at you adoringly, “Because it’s time I return that favor,” He moved your hair out of your face as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, “I doubt you’ve heard the wondrous story of the woman who somehow stole my heart.“
based on a scene from the movie robin hood: prince of thieves
i started it a year ago, the first panel was drawn back then (so i had to fix hj’s face a little), the next ones are new. i don’t use this brush much anymore so it was a challenge to get back to it
