#a forgotten affair

[soenchantingly]

a forgotten affair.

A KLAUS MIKAELSON x READER drabble.

A KLAUS MIKAELSON STORY

My curiosity peaked and I found myself drawn to a painting in the corner. I stepped towards it carefully, biting my lips in anticipation  as my fingers grasped the cloth, tugging it towards me, it dropping to the floor to reveal a portrait of a young woman, dressed in a white, knee-length and loose-fitting dress with a drop waist, delicate sequins, a scooped neckline and white fringe adorning the rim. The woman was wearing pears, her hair in an updo, styled in finger waves, with bright red lipstick and rouged cheeks. She was seated on the edge of an elegant booth, legs crossed holding a champagne coupe with red liquid in her gloved hands, a wicked smile framing her face and mischief set in her eyes. There were droplets of red spilled on her over the knee stockings and fangs on full display as she smiled.

It was unmistakable. The woman in the painting was me. ____

Alternatively: You are attending the Mikaelson Ball and you find a painting of yourself in one of the rooms of the Mikaelson house.

hello hello. this is a drabble i wrote based off of something i had in my mind for quite a long time. it's a one-shot. i'm not planning on writing more, though i might be persuaded if a lot of people want to see more, i don't know. it's very much a guilty pleasure thing so it might not be canon accurate. i just had it in my head all week since i've been rewatching the vampire diaries and i needed to put it into words. i hope you enjoy! the reader is female, sorry. i am basically just inserting myself into the fandom. comments and constructive criticism are very much welcome! i don't proof-read.

the characters and the plotline of the show are not mine and belong to their respective owners. the story is mine, however, as is the character of 'the reader'. please do not publish this story elsewhere without asking for my permission.

you'll find the story on my AO3, linked above :)

[robronrewatch]

2015 + I love yous

[dustbar]

I keep staring at ash's hands. why does he only half his gloves. #brokelife

looks like u shouldnt stare

[gingermintpepper]

Little idle thought I've been having recently but I think Cyparissus' story is very important for characterising Apollo and Apollo's love. It's so easy to think of love and loss as two ends of a spectrum, likewise, so often, death is seen as an ultimate and tragic end in love stories - something final and inescapably tragic, the only force that halts love by separating the lovers.

Cyparissus' story is... not that. Yes, the deer dies and one can conclude then that death is once more at the heart of separating two lovers, but I think Cyparissus specifically requesting to die, specifically begging Apollo to let him grieve forever even after Apollo has done his best to help Cyparissus move on from the accident and Apollo letting him is a powerful thing.

Because Apollo not only puts Cyparissus' wishes over his own, he's also able to see past his own building grief to immortalise Cyparissus in such a way that both grants him his wish and allows other people to glorify Cyparissus as well! And I think such a beautiful thing is something criminally overlooked!

It's become something of a joke that 'all Apollo's lovers turn into plants' but from a functional perspective, flowers are the most brilliant way to keep the spirit of a beloved thing alive. Flowers are like stars - as long as there are humans, humans will always contemplate the nature of flowers and as the god of poetry and song, Apollo creating opportunities for his beloved mortals to be remembered eternally even if they never seized glory in the traditional way is such an intimate and beautiful thing. Even then, Cyparissus is elevated to a similar status as Daphne with Apollo's actions - not merely a plant or flower but one that specifically symbolises him, one that is extremely fragrant and beloved by him. Just as Daphne's laurels were synonymous with glory and victory, Cyparissus' cypress became a emblematic of grief and remembrance. Even today, thousands of years later, people still view cypress trees as mourning trees and plant them in cemeteries and use the ash in incense burnt in remembrance of others. How's that for Apollo keeping his word.

[stormsonjupiter]

I hate that Dnd Wiki entries have better citations than some articles I’ve read for work.

[mongeese]

Think I'm going to become a legitimate Darryl Wilson/Sweet Matilda shipper simply for comedic purposes. They have a brief extremely passionate relationship charged with a lot of guilt on Darryl's part and then never see each other again because Darryl leaves the Forgotten Realms. Haven't quite finished the season yet don't tell me if this contradicts canon

[thatgeekwiththeclipons]

Remembering 6x Academy Award Winning, BAFTA Winning, Golden Globe Winning producer, writer, filmmaker Billy Wilder! ^__^

[thegreatyin]

alright, no big deal, i can simply buy them from the baz-

oh. oh right. i forgot. lark is broke as shit. okay.

[theprincescourt]

[ Court inventory ]

[strryhaze]

this picture perfectly encapsulates the energy of me every time i try to respond to a bobbyjackie ask because on one hand 1) i’m always happy to speak about them

on the other 2) i always feel like i’m saying Too Much and therefore i spend half the time writing something up and then the other half trying to shorten the damn thing. but it never works! the attempts are always futile! i always end up saying so much anyway bc i have so many thoughts even though only five people gaf…

[soenchantingly]

writer's note.

hi hi hi. so i finally got the back into grove again and i have decided to go through all of my existing fics and give them a rewrite. all new fics are going to be on AO3 only and tumblr will be used for aesthetics and promotions. i am not really sure yet if i'm going to take down my existing stories on tumblr so that all my stories are in one place. if it were up to me, i'd do it, but i feel kind of bad for the people that liked my stories here on tumblr? i don't know.

anyways. i am starting with my collection of the 100 stories, stellate and giving it a complete rewrite. i don't know which one is going to be next, heliophilia, heathens, or toujour pur.

i am working on a nikolai lantsov story and i have something in my head for a kaz brekker story but i'm not sure if i want to make it into an actual story with chapters like toujour pur and heathens, or i want to make them into a collection of stories with a coherent storyline like heliophilia and stellate. the latter is a lot easier since i don't have to worry about chapter transitions. it's something i am still thinking about.

anyways i published a new drabble, a forgotten affair. it's a klaus mikaelson story. check it out if you're interested!

stay tuned for the new stories, aesthetics, moodboards, and playlists :)

[husband-steve-cortez]

I hate being one of those "oh my ocs have a mind of their own" people but it's true and it's so sad how much I want to fuck that old man but none of my muses will play ball. Also sucks that I'm a guy who only cares about his ocs.

[hayatheauthor]

12 Red Herrings to Keep Your Readers Distracted

I’ve seen mystery/thriller authors use the same handful of red herrings too many times to count. So here are some (hopefully not as common) red herrings for your writing. 

1. The Unreliable Narrator's Bias

Your narrator can play favourites and scheme and twist the way your readers interpret the story. Use this to your advantage! A character portrayed as untrustworthy can really be someone innocent the narrator framed, vice versa. 

2. The Loyal Traitor

A character with a history of betrayal or questionable loyalty is an obvious suspect. They did it once, they could do it again, right? Wrong! They’ve actually changed and the real traitor is someone you trusted. 

3. The Conflicted Expert

An expert—like a detective, scientist, or historian—analyses a piece of evidence. They’re ultimately wrong, either due to bias, missing data, or pressure to provide quick answers.

4. The Overly Competent Ally

You know that one sidekick or ally who’s somehow always ahead of the curve? They’re just really knowledgeable, your characters know this, but it makes it hard to trust them. Perfection is suspicious! But in this case, they’re actually just perfect. 

5. The Misleading Emotional Clue

Maybe one of your characters is seen crying, angry, or suspiciously happy after xyz event. Characters suspect them, but turns out they’re just having a personal issue. (People have lives outside of yours MC smh). Or it could be a cover-up. 

6. A Misleading Alibi

At first this character’s alibi seems perfect but once the protag digs into it, it has a major hole/lie. Maybe they were in a different location or the person they claimed to be with was out of town. 

7. The Odd Pattern

Have a seemingly significant pattern—symbols left at crime scenes, items stolen in a specific order, crimes on specific dates. Then make it deliberately planted to mislead.

8. The Misinterpreted Relationship

A character was secretly close to a victim/suspect, making them a suspect. Turns out they were hiding a completely unrelated secret; an affair, hidden family connection, etc.

9. A Forgotten Grudge

Create a grudge or past feud and use it to cast suspicion on an innocent character. Introducing an aspect of their past also helps flesh out their character and dynamics as a group + plant distrust. 

10. The Faked Death

Luke Castellan, need I say more (I will)? A supposedly innocent character dies, but turns out they faked it and were never a victim in the first place. They just needed to be out of the picture. 

11. The Mistaken Eavesdropper 

A character overhears a threat, argument, etc. They suspect B based on this convo, but turns out they just came to a false conclusion. (Or did they?)

12. The Forgetful Alibi 

Someone confesses to hearing/seeing a clue, but turns out they were mistaken. Maybe they thought they heard a certain ringtone, or saw xyz which C always wears, but their memory was faulty or influenced by stress.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[c0ffeejelly1]

I love the way your name sounds

Multiple character headcannon

Authors note: okay I won’t even lie I think I kinda liked this fic…ANWAYS here’s y’all’s warnings NSFW content! I put some of that Femdom shi, f!reader, m!receiving gawk gawk, dacryphilia…I guess, uhh just really cringe worth sentences... yall probably into that. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Summary: he likes to whine your name especially when he’s close

MEN who love to be buried between your thighs, though anytime you offer to reciprocate his good deed he insistently denies you, shying away from any form of contact. He initially claims it’s because he prioritises your pleasure over his and there is no need for you to sourer your lips. But would it be so bad if you just wanted to hear him whine in satisfaction?

That’s not to say there hasn’t been times where you have succeeded in changing his mind. However during those moments, the only sound you might catch is a faint hum, accompanied by him biting the inside of his cheek and knitting his brows in frustration, as if he’s forcing himself to keep quiet...

MEN who even when he has his cock between the folds of your heat, he keeps one hand pressed to his mouth or his face deep in the crook of your neck. He never lets you hear him, hear how good you also make him feel - and you had reached your limit. You just wanted to have a man moan, rather than it being a one-sided affair.

Did he not enjoy sex with you?

MEN who let out a small gasp of surprise when you suddenly approach him after a days of lounging. Your in that cute little apron he adores with your hands trailing up and down his chest through his worn clothes. He laughs nervously, gently taking a hold of your wrist, his eyes wide and confused, like a lost puppy trying to understand your sudden playful behavior.

But you don’t hold back, instead, you draw even closer, your hand pressing deeper into his chest causing him to back against the wall. Your breath fans over his neck and you catch the sound of him swallowing hard a slight gulp down his throat. His grip on your wrist wavers softly as a meek sound escapes his lips, “I…Is everything okay, baby?”

MEN who turn crimson at the feeling of your lips pressing into his, before trailing along from his jaw and down to his neck. Your sudden assertiveness was causing his mind to reel from the intensity of the situation. Before long, his shirt is tossed aside, forgotten on the floor, and he’s sprawled flat on the bed, his elbows propping him up, as he stares at you completely dazed and breathless, “hah…you’re really in the mood today, huh…”

You can only laugh at his admission. He had no idea what you had in store for him today. You were going to make him scream, so loud that he wouldn’t be able to speak the following day, so loud that the neighbors might just have to lodge a complaint against you, so loud that—

“A-ah…you…you can’t just…do things like that…”

MEN who feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through his body upon feeling your hand move inside the waistband of his underwear. A warning would’ve been nice, because now all he can do is have his breath hitch and back arch instinctively against your touch.

“Hand or mouth?”

Your question only turns his mind to mush, as he tries to make a coherent decision. Both options sound incredible, but he found himself succumbing to your hand. You knew he’d pick that. He doesn’t get as sensitive with your hand…which is why you decided to use your mouth, much to his dismay.

“W-why even bother ask— mhf…”

MEN who lose their words at the feeling of you tongue around his shaft. His hand immediately reaches up to his mouth, trying to stifle his shameful sounds, in which you quickly stop just before he could.

He lets out a small whine in protest, looking down at you between his legs with puppy eyes. Your intense gaze on him was only turning him on more and it was only a matter of time before he felt a familiar coil in his stomach begin to build up.

You had finally done it.

MEN who can’t help the babbles of “Ggh…you…you’re…so mean”, the whines of “d-dont tease the tip…” and the whimpers of “p-please faster…let me make a mess in your…in…in your mouth”, that escape him.

You couldn’t believe your ears of all the filth falling out of his lips. The way his eyebrows pinch up in that familiar look, his jaw slacked open, his eyes glued shut. You wanted him to look at you, see just who was making him fall apart like this, and so you tap on his thigh, prompting him to glance down at you, his eyes glistening as if he was on the verge of crying.

“F-fuck…m’so…so close…I’m so close, please…don’t l-look at me like that…”

You don’t stop. You don’t even allow him to bring his hands anywhere near his face.

“A-ah…baby— Y/N, please…I can’t. It’s too embarrassing Y/N…”

He was begging to cover his mouth, before the shameful chants of his high come to light. Begging you to at least slow down so he can catch his breath, begging you for some trace of pity on him in which you don’t grant, a coy smile forming on your lips.

There was nothing else he could do but to give in, to let go, to surrender completely to you, to be your “good boy”.

“M’gonna…o-oh Y/N, t-thank you…a-ahh…thank y-you so much, momm— Y/N, I—I’m c-cumming!…”

MEN who from that day on, never once hold back a single noise from you.

“You need to eat more fruit babe.”

“M’sorry…”

Characters: Reigen, SERIZAWA, GIYUU, Jean, ARMIN, REINER, KAGEYAMA, Hinata, Bokuto (I’m trying to convince myself but deep down I know this man is loud.), Osamu, CHOSO, MAMMON, Childe, THOMA, Rafayel, ACE, SANJI, Iruka

[pomegranatelifethis]

Request:Can I request a Yandere platonic batfam with a neglected reader who is a dancer, maybe a ballerina and they don't realise they bought tickets to see her in a show like swan lake and they realise

Broken ballerina

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Neglected Ballerina Reader

In the shadows of Wayne Manor, lost in the endless chaos of Gotham, you had been forgotten for years. You tried to get their attention, to make them see you, to remind them that you were there—but it was never enough.

They were heroes, always busy.

And you… were alone.

But you had built your own world. Every time the feeling of abandonment swallowed you whole, you escaped to the stage. Dance was your freedom. Even when your bones ached, even when your feet bled, it was the only place where you felt truly alive.

And one night, without even realizing it, they came to watch.

---

The opening night of Swan Lake was a grand event. For the Wayne family, it was just another prestigious Gotham cultural affair. Alfred had secured the tickets and practically dragged them there. None of them had a particular interest in ballet, but they understood its importance.

Then, the curtain rose.

And there you were.

The breath caught in their throats.

Your delicate frame, your perfect posture, your graceful turns… Silent as a ghost, fragile as a porcelain doll, yet glowing under the stage lights. The way your arms fluttered, the way you glided across the stage like a swan in flight—every movement was mesmerizing.

Something inside them shattered.

Bruce’s fingers clenched around the armrest. How had he missed this? How long had you been dancing? Why hadn’t you told him?

Dick’s eyes filled with something close to guilt. He could read it now, the expression they had ignored for years: Freedom. You looked ready to fly away.

Jason’s brows furrowed. This wasn’t right. You standing there, exposed to the world, to strangers’ eyes—it felt wrong. Every cheer, every clap of the audience… it was as if they were stealing you.

Tim’s mind was racing. How had he overlooked this? How had he failed to notice? This was a massive mistake.

Damian’s face darkened. These people didn’t know that you were theirs.

Cassandra’s heart clenched. You were telling them everything through your movements. And what she saw made her sick—on that stage, you were happier than you had ever been with them.

They couldn’t accept that.

When the final act ended and the curtain fell, something else was just beginning.

---

That night, they were waiting for you backstage.

A chill ran down your spine when you saw them. The weight of their stares, the intensity in their eyes—it was suffocating.

You hesitated. Why were they here? After all this time, after years of ignoring you, why now?

Bruce stepped forward. “How long have you been doing this?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge of danger beneath it.

You gave a vague answer. Jason let out a low growl. Dick placed a hand on his shoulder, but his own eyes were burning with questions.

"Why didn’t you tell us?" Tim’s voice was deceptively calm.

You took a slow breath, steadying yourself. Then, with a quiet strength that left no room for doubt, you spoke:

"I did."

Silence.

You had told them. Years ago. Again and again. You had told them that you danced, that the stage was your home, that this was everything to you. But they had never listened. They had always been too busy.

"We’ll talk later," they had said. But later never came.

And now? Now they saw you only because you shined under stage lights?

Bruce’s jaw tightened. His gaze never wavered. “You should have shared this with us.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “I tried.”

Dick stepped closer, his tone almost pleading. “We just… didn’t notice. But we can fix this.”

Your eyes narrowed. Now? Now they wanted to fix it?

Jason crossed his arms, scowling. “We didn’t know you were this alone.”

Tim’s fingers twitched in frustration. How had he let this slip past him? How had he not seen the signs?

Damian’s voice was sharp as a blade. “You can’t be on your own. Being on stage doesn’t make you strong.”

Cassandra said nothing. But her expression spoke louder than any words. You won’t leave us, right?

But you had already made up your mind.

You inhaled deeply, shaking your head. “There’s nothing to fix.”

Their eyes widened.

"You saw it, didn’t you?" You lifted your chin. "I don’t need you."

And that—

That was their breaking point.

That was the spark that turned their guilt into something far more dangerous.

Because they could not accept that they had neglected you.

They could not accept that they had lost you.

And one thing was certain—

From this moment on, they would never let you slip away again.

Tag : @welpthisisboring

@lilyalone

[acosmicbee]

Forgotten Royal

Platonic Yandere King x GN Teen Reader

You stood inside a hidden servant's passage, watching as the royal ball took place. Out there, sitting proudly on their thrones, was the royal family. Well, most of them anyway, but you didn't technically count. You had been the result of an affair between the king and a maid and your birth had caused an uproar in the palace.

The queen had done everything to get rid of the person causing her so much embarrassment by accusing your mother of everything she could. Adultery, thievery, witchcraft. She was barely a day postpartum when she'd been burned at the stake in front of the palace. The maids, however, had saved you with the king's permission. That was the only thing he'd ever done for you.

The head maid raised you, teaching you to stay out of sight and out of mind. She had some level of pity and care for you, but not enough to make you feel welcomed here. Now you were about to turn 14, the age when you would've made your debut and joined noble society. The day when you would've been announced as one of the heirs in line for the throne.

Instead you were hidden away, the secret bastard child of King Peter. You pretended to be unbothered, smiling away the hurt and anger you felt as you did your daily chores. Overtime. you had grown tired of always watching from within the walls and tonight it finally caught up with you.

You turned, dashing through the corridors as you made your way towards the kitchen. The head maid spared you a single pitied glance before returning to her work as you dashed out the door into the garden.

You ignored the rare plants and magnificent decor, a mission in mind. You headed straight towards the outer wall and climbed up to the top, using the gaps in the stone as foot and handholds. From up here you could watch the ocean and beach below the cliffs the castle stood on. 

It was a cloudy night and you strained to see whatever you could when the moon was briefly free of the cloud cover. A few seconds of moonlight illuminated a speck on the water below. The next time the clouds shrank away from the moon they were closer. You realized it must be a boat, probably a merchant ship heading south to the next kingdom over. 

You sat there, watching in glimpses as the ship sailed around the island, out of your sight. Maybe they were heading for the port. Maybe they were heading for the next kingdom. You honestly didn't care too much other than wishing you had the freedom to sail wherever you wanted.

Although, thinking about boats reminded you of a really cool shell you'd found down at the beach last time you snuck down there. It had been a while since you'd gone, maybe you'd ditch your chores tomorrow to go see it.

Eventually, you climbed down the wall and headed back inside the palace to go to bed. You fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the emotional toll of the day and all the chores you'd done. You were long asleep when the head maid peeked into your room. After assessing you were safe and sound she walked off to continue with her work, making a mental note for the next time the king asked about you.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The ocean was cool and felt like bliss on your legs as you scanned the beach. You'd snuck away from the head maid, taking the long route to get here. While you did have to go all the way around to the beach by the main port before you could climb the rocky outcrops to reach the north beach, it was worth it. 

You'd already found some perfect scallop shells and an iridescent muscle shell. You wandered the shoreline, constantly checking the sand for anything that caught your eye. It was when you reached down to pick up a sand dollar did you feel a strong arm grab you by the waist and hoist you up.

"Well, well, well. What kind of treasure do we have here?" A deep voice asked. You struggled as hard as you could, dropping your shells in the process.

"Let me go!" You demanded, but your struggles were useless against a man way stronger than you were. He easily contained you until you'd tired yourself out. It was then he'd turned you around in his arms, holding you bridal style.

The man wore a crown, similar to King Peter's. He was probably a neighboring king, here as an invited guest to the ball last night. Your eyes locked with his brown ones. You both stared at each other before he smirked down at you.

"What is a maid's child doing all the way out here?" He asked, guessing your profession by the dull and worn out clothing you wore. You glared at him in annoyance.

"I'm collecting shells. Put me down." You demanded again. You were getting angry now, starting to squirm again.

"Where are your parents, child? You're a long way from the castle." The man asked. He finally put you down after an exceptionally harsh glare from you. You dusted off your clothes before picking up the shells you'd dropped before.

"I don't have parents." You answered, inspecting a razor clam shell. You decided against adding it to your growing collection and headed further down the beach. The man followed after you.

"You're too young to be out here alone. Did you scale the rocks to get here?" The man asked. You nodded, picking up a small spiral shaped shell and adding it to your pile. "That was very dangerous. If you slipped you would've fallen into the ocean. Do you even know how to swim?" 

"I don't slip, I know how not to." You answered simply. The man hummed for a moment before his eyes lit up, not that you could see with your back turned.

"I know exactly what you need." He said, striding over and picking you up again. This time you held onto your shells as he started carrying you down the beach.

"Hey! I'm not a kid! You can't just pick me up whenever!" You snapped, giving him a dirty look. He just smiled.

"I think, as your new father, I can do anything I want."

"N- new what?!" You shrieked, trying to squirm and roll your way out of his arms.

"You see, I was planning to come here to send your little king a message. My empire could really use some of the resources but King Peter refuses to trade with us over some past issues. But now," the man grinned down at you. "Now not only do I have an heir, but I will also have the resources I need as soon as King Peter realizes his choices are to trade with me or watch his kingdom burn. He will surrender and I will have everything I need."

Your mouth was open in horror. This wasn't a guest, but a blatant enemy. Then again... what had King Peter ever done for you? Why did you feel any obligation to stop this? But at the same time, what about the servants who had raised you? What about the head maid who was your sole mother figure.

All you could do was desperately struggle as he carried you down the beach.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

"You asked for me, my king?" The head maid said, bowing as she entered his study. Peter just sighed, waving her closer.

"Stop it with the formalities. You know why I called you here and you know what I want." He said, his voice commanding. The head maid just nodded.

"Y/N has been a little down lately. I think it's partially jealousy over their place compared to your other children. They snuck out to the garden last night during the ball, but were in bed and asleep when I checked on them." She reported.

"Jealous hmm..." Peter hummed, a storm of emotions flickering through his eyes. "And where are they right now?"

"Probably down at the beach, my king. They skipped out on their chores today."

"When they return, send them to me. I think it's finally time we had a little chat." He said, dismissing her.

"Yes, my king."

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Your 'new father' gripped your wrists to keep you from hitting as he carried you aboard the ship. You didn't care about the spectacle you were making as you tried your hardest to fight back with just your legs. Clearly you were drawing some attention when a man limped up to your captor with an annoyed glare.

"Lucas! You can't just suddenly wander off like that! You know fully well that your men don't listen to me!" The man seethed. He looked similar to your 'father', or Lucas as you now knew. They had the same green eyes and plethora of freckles, but Lucas had fiery red hair while the second man had dark brown. The second man supported himself on an ornate cane as he stood in front of Lucas.

"Darling, meet my little brother, Pierre." Your 'father' introduced, finally setting you down but not releasing your wrists. You froze as Pierre's mouth dropped open in shock. He glanced back and forth between you and Lucas for a while before he let out a long suffering sigh.

"Did you kidnap a child, Lucas? Really?!" Pierre asked. He limped closer to you, using his sleeve to wipe some stray sand off of your face.

"You always make everything sound so bad, Pierre. They said they had no parents so theres no one to kidnap them from. It's an adoption." Lucas insisted. Pierre rolled his eyes, carefully looking you over.

"You poor thing. Look at these dreadful rags..." Pierre frowned at your clothing and Lucas nodded.

"Indeed. Can you schedule a fitting for them once we return? Both for a new wardrobe and a crown. Until then though, I should be able to scrounge up something a little better." Lucas said. Pierre nodded before gesturing over to a knight who was waiting patiently.

"Go talk to your men, brother. I'll run them a bath while you're busy. I'll also get them some clothes, you wouldn't know proper fashion if it was standing right in front of you." Pierre chastised. He gently led you away from Lucas and towards a private cabin.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

You felt cleaner than you had in ages. Not only were you allowed to use hot water, and the most expensive hair products and soaps, but Pierre had spent a while just brushing your hair for you. He was, in your opinion, the only upside to the spontaneous kidnapping. You'd never had someone take care of you like this before.

Pierre had dressed you in one of Lucas' shirts, and some deer hide trousers. The trousers were likely borrowed from some junior knight because they were only a little loose. The shirt, on the other hand, swamped you and Pierre had to cuff the sleeves for it to fit properly. 

At some point, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving you sleepy, but irritable. You were actually enjoying having your hair brushed, Pierre's hands gentle and caring, when the cabin door had flung open with Lucas standing in the doorway. 

"Thank you, Pierre. How about you go tend to your leg, hm?" Pierre huffed, looking annoyed and uncertain, but eventually did what Lucas asked.

Upon being alone, he grabbed you again which caused you to glare at him again. He carried you over to the small desk in the cabin, placing you on his lap as he inspected something. It horrified you to realize it was a map of the castle.

He held you closer when you tried to squirm away. His grip tightened to near painful, only relenting when you finally stopped resisting. He just chuckled, placing a kiss on the top of your damp hair as he took notes on the side of the map.

It took a long time for the exhaustion you'd felt earlier to come back to haunt you. When it did you resisted as long as you could before your body involuntarily relaxed into his. He placed down his pen when that happened, a dark look in his eyes as his interest shifted from the map to you.

"Don't worry darling, we'll be able to head home soon. I promise you my empire is way more impressive than this. The castle has a private beach attached where you can go scavenge for shells every day if you wish." Lucas promised you, ruffling your hair as you drifted off.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Pierre was the one who took care of you that night. He fed you dinner and tucked you into bed. Lucas had already left with his knights to storm the castle, minus a couple who were guarding your door. You'd never been tucked into bed before, and the weight of quality blankets mixed with a full stomach made your eyes go half lidded.

You were a goner before Pierre started reading to you from a book he'd pulled from one of Lucas' shelves. In an instant you had fallen asleep, Pierres soothing voice carrying your mind to the realm of dreams.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

"I'm surprised you didn't try and run with them." Pierre didn't turn to look at Lucas. Even from where he sat at your bedside he could smell the metallic scent of blood. His brother always got more trigger happy after a kill.

"And run where?" He asked, closing the book and laying it in his lap. He still refused to look at Lucas, keeping his eyes trained on your sleeping figure.

"Smart boy. You've learned since last time." There was a rustle from behind him and a few minutes later Lucas stepped into his view. He was just wearing his pants and boots, shirt, cape and armor abandoned. "How's your leg brother?"

Pierre growled, anger growing. "You would know, wouldn't you? Seeing as you're the one who broke it." Not only had Lucas broken it, he'd also made sure it never healed correctly, leading to the limp.

"Today must be a bad day then. Seeing as you're so grouchy and you were actually using the cane I got you."

"You know just as well as I do that you're going to hurt them. At some point they'll do something, just like I did, and you'll snap at them too." Pierre said, standing from the chair and finally meeting his eyes. Lucas only smirked, an evil look on his face.

"Family is very important to me. They'll learn that just as you have, brother. Now be a dear and go get some sleep, hm? You've had enough time with them today."

Pierre left the cabin with a sick feeling in his stomach. One of the knights standing guard immediately started to escort him to his own cabin. As he looked up at the stars, past the smoke rising from the now burning castle and ignoring the screaming of the people of this kingdom, he hoped you would escape and lead a happier, and freer, life then he had ever been able to. 

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Peter clenched his fists as he watched his castle burn. His eldest son was commanding the guards to douse the fire and find the queen. His other children were crying, his youngest daughter clinging to his pants. He knew they wouldn't find her alive, he'd already taken care of her before the fire had broken out.

He was about to take over from his son, to redirect the guards to helping civilians, when the head maid came running over, her face streaked with ash. Her eyes looked panicked as she approached him.

"My king, Y/N is missing." With those words the anger burning inside him was stoked into a raging inferno. "One of the guards said they saw a ship flying the flag of the Ashefall Kingdom docked down at North Beach!"

His mind raced as he realized what that meant. You'd gone to the beach today. You had been down by the ship. Had they captured you? Were you being tortured? Had that savage monster killed you? He growled, realizing if he'd been able to get rid of his wife sooner, this never would have happened.

You'd have been raised alongside your siblings as a royal. You would've been escorted by guards wherever you went. No one could have ever laid a finger on you. He growled as he stormed past the burning palace, easily scaling the garden wall. He watched as a tiny ship cruised past the shore, even from up there he could see the maroon flags blowing in the wind.

"Mark my words. I will get my vengeance, for my kingdom and for Y/N." He promised, glaring down at the boat as it sailed away.