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gurugirl · 3 months ago

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[1] It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry

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Series Summary: Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.

Note: Harry is mean/uncouth in this, though things do get better. He doesn't treat anyone around him with much respect at all. Expect to not like him much at first. Also, this is set in the 1800s England, and while not completely historically accurate, I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible.

Ch. 1 Word Count: 8,282

Ch. 1 Warning: smut (not w/Y/n), funeral scene, parental death, manipulation and coercion, corruption kink, humiliation

. .

The sky was gray, which seemed fitting for the occasion, and a single bell from the watchtower at the kingdom's town center slowly clanged the funeral toll.

It was a sad day for the prosperous kingdom of Thornekeep. The king’s funeral was quite the spectacle. There was not one citizen with a dry eye, for King Augustus Styles was beloved by all. The townsfolk stood along the cobbled road as two steeds pulled the king’s covered coffin to the cathedral for a ceremony that would end the elder King Styles’ reign and make way for the prince to be crowned by birthright.

The young prince was at the front of the procession riding on a lone horse wearing battle armor, along with his father’s shield and sword. No one could read his expression as he kept his eyes on the road ahead toward the cathedral. The people of the monarchy were not so keen on the prince. He was not as warm as his father, and he often ruffled feathers. Some would say he was downright mean. But what could they do? He had been brought up for this very thing. To rule and protect the kingdom and its people. They would have to put their trust in him no matter what.

The ceremony was attended by the royal court, Privy Counsellors, Lord Mayor, Realm High Commissioners as well as the family of the King. Prince Harry Styles sat on the woven red wool chair at the front as the announcement was made by the Council and the accession declaration was called before the Prince stood to receive his crown.

When the ceremony had concluded the old Sovereign’s casket was taken again by steed for the final burial where the whole of the kingdom stood in wait as their new King made his proclamation over the land and the kingdom to the public.

And so it was. The new Sovereign of Thornekeep, King Harry Edward Styles, would rule over the people henceforth.

. . .

“Your Majesty, we apologize for the intrusion, but it is time to get to the order of official business.”

“You wouldn’t have to apologize if you weren’t intruding, now would you?” Harry’s groggy voice spoke as he remained sprawled on his back in his warm velvet bed with three naked women lying draped over his limbs still fast asleep and unaware of the two men standing at the King’s chambers door.

“May it please Your Majesty if we return in one half-hour’s time? Our Lord Mayor and the Orders of Council are awaiting you in the Great Hall. This is a very important meeting, Sir.”

Harry knew he had a meeting set up. He knew it was important to keep it and he understood the gravity of it all. But he couldn’t resist when he took three lovely young things with him to his chambers the evening prior and they each let him do as he pleased. He’d just been crowned King for Christ’s sake! He deserved to sew his wild oats before things got heavy and real and it was time to get down to the nitty-gritty of his new stifling responsibilities.

“I will find myself in the Great Hall in one half-hour’s time. No need to return.”

“Yes, Sir. And what should we tell the Lord Mayor of your tardiness?”

“Fuck’s sake! I don’t care! Tell them I’ve got my privy member sallying forth and I’m in the sack with three concubines if you like! The Lord Mayor can wait a half hour. Give him a thumb of brandy. Tha’ should keep him with a smile.”

It was this very attitude that had the folk of Thornekeep nervous. Harry’s proclivity for saying what he pleased with little regard for the people he was saying it to.

The two men bowed their heads and backed out the door, closing it behind them before Harry sat up, pushing the women from him and stretching his arms overhead.

His first full day as King. He’d not looked forward to wearing the crown. But he knew what he needed to do and he had no choice just as the kingdom had no choice but to accept him as he was; full of grit and scandal, haughtiness and ego.

His bare feet landed on the heavy wood floors and he scratched his member before draping a sheet over the naked women in his bed. They’d all had too much to drink and Harry figured they could stay put until he returned. Maybe another round or two would do him some good and sober him up before he kicked them out to get back to their duties. Whatever those were.

He robed himself that morning and even though he’d been offered a personal dresser to assist him, he declined. Harry didn’t like the idea of having a valet in wait unless he was feeling like making them watch him fuck whoever he took in his bed for the night. That could be fun… Harry liked being watched. Maybe he’d reconsider and take a personal assistant after all.

The council and mayor were sitting in their places in the Great Hall when Harry sauntered in, unkempt and smelling of muff. Everyone stood and waited until he took his seat at the head of the long wooden table. Light poured in through the stained-glass panel behind him and everyone awaited the King’s call to order.

“We may begin,” he spoke. And so it started.

It was laid out for Harry the major issues that always needed tackling, allocation for funds and the people of Thornekeep, the Kingdom’s allies, and enemies, projects left undone that were awaiting signatures or provisional work. Then there were the upcoming events and additional contracts that needed sorting.

But there was also the concern of the King’s marital status.

“You’ll need a Queen. Someone to continue the Styles’ lineage for Thornekeep. The people will want to know they are under the rule of a stable Sovereign.”

“What does it matter how the people feel? I can rule without a Queen. I’d rather not be hindered.” Harry waved a hand as he spoke unconcerned.

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, how do you expect to have a child out of wedlock?”

The cheeky grin that pulled up on Harry’s face had his advisor suddenly standing to stop the King from answering that question but Harry only laughed and looked at the man. “Sit. Do not interrupt me again. I think Our Lord Mayor would like a lesson in biology and I’m not one to turn down a teaching moment.”

The advisor relented with a sigh (what was he to do? tell the King not to speak?), sat back down and Harry began. “One does not need the burden of wedlock to create offspring. It’s quite simple you see…” All the men knew where this was going as Harry continued. “All I need to do is stick my fiddle within the sweet quim whiskers of a beautiful woman and keep it in until I’ve done my duty. Could take a few rounds to set but I imagine soon enough the woman receiving my bounty will be heavy with child and upon the moment of birth will provide me an heir. No need for a marital contract of any sort.”

The men of the council looked around at one another in near shock at Harry’s dismissal of tradition as the Lord Mayor spoke. “That will not do. It is imperative that you find a Queen, my Lord. You need a woman that will raise said heir in the castle with you, bring them up properly, and teach them our ways. This will be your legacy. You must see that.”

Harry knew of course that his words would fall on deaf ears. He knew he’d have to marry and make a show of it. But he did rather enjoy seeing the looks on the faces of the fancy and feathered men, all tensed with their sleek coverings of velvet and wool and white tights tucked into silk and leather shoes with shiny silver buckles and heels that made them appear taller than they were.

“Fine. I’ll have my selection in a fortnight.”

His selection. As if he were choosing a dish to be served for dinner. But that is how Harry saw it after all. He would have his choice of dishes just as he would have his choice of women. It would be the roasted venison with piping hot potatoes, smothered in butter, and artichokes for his dinner, and for his wife, he’d take the pretty redhead with the plump bottom and big bosom lying in his bed. She had the kind of tummy that would take a child well he figured.

Making his way to his chambers he whistled a tune to himself, his mood not diminished by the news of his new tasks, for he was about to wet his fiddle once again. The redhead did seem quite desirable in that moment. But instead, upon entering his room, the redhead was missing.

The two others were lying on their backs and turned to see the King enter. Sitting up quickly Harry pulled his robe off and shut his door. “Where is the redhead with big breasts?”

“She was gone when I woke, Your Majesty,” the one with dark hair spoke.

“Well, bullocks. Do you know her name?”

Both women shook their heads no. “No, King.”

Harry sighed and continued removing his clothes. Well, if he couldn’t find a wife that night, he’d enjoy what was leftover in his room. He had a fortnight after all. Plenty of time to find someone he could tolerate. He had no intention of selecting anyone from the pool of suitable women the advisors told him about. That was a bore.

“You.” He pointed at the fair-skinned girl. “Sit in that chair and face the bed.”

Harry’s undervest was pulled off and he was left naked as he walked up to the one with dark hair and grinned at her. “You’ll suck my cock while she watches.”

He enjoyed his position of power. Women never told him no. Not when he was a prince and certainly not now as King. He had the young woman take him down her throat and checked in with the fair-skinned girl. “Keep watching. Want to make sure you get a good look at how well she does it. Just like last night. This one knows how to suck.”

Her slick mouth encased his girth and he groaned as he stood at the bed, the girl on her hands and knees taking the King on her tongue and gagging violently around his length.

“Oh, a noise maker!” Harry moaned, “Keep up the good work my little whore…”

The girl sputtered and pushed away from him, gasping as she looked up at him. “I’m not a prostitute! I’m–“

Harry interrupted, balking, “I don’t care. Think of it as a term of endearment. Get back and finish the job. It’s much better when you don’t speak.”

“King… perhaps you could just fuck me? My throat is starting to hurt.” She rounded her eyes at him.

He sighed as if it were an annoyance. “Okay. Turn around, face down.” He looked over at the girl on the chair. “Still watching?”

She nodded. “Yes, King.”

Harry poked himself into the pretty woman and she was already slick for him. He enjoyed a cunt just as much as he enjoyed a mouth and the view he had was rather delightful. He rocked into her and watched as her pussy lips gripped him, her insides coating him with a glisten that smelled like a proper cock wrapper.

His heart began to thud harder as he thrust into the hilt, smacking his hips into her soft round bottom and moaning in gasps as he felt his testicles squeeze and tighten.

The girl was making her own little grunted noises but Harry wasn’t concerned if she finished or not.

Harry’s breathy moans changed into something deeper and more guttural the closer he got and he began to pound into her harder.

“Ahh! Oh!” She hollered as she was spread open by the King’s large cock.

But before she could even find her end Harry was pulling himself from her and spraying her back with his royal come and moaning in delight at his release.

The girl fell into the bed with a whine and the King noted the one watching was sitting at the edge of her seat with her eyes upon his cock.

“S’nice in’nit?” He turned toward her with his member in his palm. “Clean it off. Let’s make my knob shiny and new again.”

The girl was quick to lean in and take him in her mouth, licking off the slick from the other one who was left unsatisfied on the bed.

And when he’d had quite enough and his prick was deflating he parted from the girl and patted her cheek. “There we are. Off you go. Both of you. I’ve got to find myself a Queen.”

. . .

Y/n had seen the procession with the new King from his father’s funeral at the cathedral. He was a handsome man with a strange emotion set on his face. She couldn’t tell what it was, but sadness, it was not. She’d heard all the talk about him from when he was a Prince. An ass of a man with an ego the size of Rome. And now, worries of the new King’s reckless attitude being trouble for Thornekeep.

No one could know exactly what to make of it. He’d not yet really had a chance to do much of anything. As Prince, he served in the Royal Army. It was said that he led a very strict outfit during times of conflict and was good at negotiation. That he loved confrontation and could coordinate a group of soldiers to be the best and most feared on the lines. But what did that mean for the citizens of his kingdom? The monarchy relied on his strength and wits to lead. While it was a promising thing that he was good at combat and negotiation, what about the finer details of being a sovereign leader? How would the people fare?

“Right prat our new king. Doesn’t give a shite about us lot. You wait and see. S’gonna fuck the poor til we’re caged up like hogs. I don’t trust ‘im.” Lane was three quarts of beer in and Y/n watched as he guzzled from his tin.

The pair were sitting outside in the cold near the corner of the factory where the middle-income earners worked. Hoping for any scraps they might be willing to part with.

Y/n was a beggar. She would hold out her fabric basket or her satchel and try to look as haggard and tired as she could. But most just sniffed at her and walked past. She was young and while not the picture of health with her greasy hair and bones protruding, she was not fully unhealthy either. Most who gave to the poor were poor themselves. So she tried to look worse off to get anything she could.

A loaf of bread, a small salt fish, and whatever fibrous mash of grains and beans could be spared was allotted to each household weekly. And for Y/n, that was not enough food for her parents, her grandmother, and her three little sisters. She often went without eating and was the only one who could handle the chilled air for hours at a time to beg anyone who would spare a morsel.

Thornekeep was a rich, thriving kingdom but as was the norm for every city, town, and kingdom across the land, poor people did exist. Y/n had heard tales of other kingdoms that never allotted any food to households. And how some didn’t even have a roof over their heads at all. She was told she should be thankful that she wasn’t sleeping on the streets with the rats and their excrement as was common elsewhere.

But she wasn’t thankful. Her lot in life was hell. No one deserved to be treated as she was even if she was given a monthly stipend.

The debutante was held a week after King Harry’s crowning. Of course, Y/n would not attend. She was not of that world nor even close to being in a league where one would want her hand in marriage. What a laugh! Y/n imagined herself being presented among all the young beauties in their fine dresses with jewels and pinned and curled hair. What man would look at her and think he’d offer a proposal?

The young ladies and their mothers were all dressed to the nines. Shoulders held back, hair pinned high, fake smiles plastered on their faces… They were there to show the kingdom they were eligible for marriage and to compete for the king’s eye.

King Harry would be in attendance to select a bride for himself. He seemed to reject the normal route of having a queen selected for him. There were many who were raised up for that very thing and so his choice should have been easy. But he was stubborn. No one was surprised. Every woman presented to him, of those that his court felt would be a good match, he hardly even looked at before rudely sending away.

Gossip traveled through Thornekeep as the ball was held to show off the citizens’ most beautiful and affluent daughters around. If he didn’t want the perfectly crafted, and trained young women fit to be his wife and queen, then perhaps he’d find one at the ball.

As always, Y/n sat perched near the castle gates holding out a small fabric basket for anyone to give anything and, as always, the scraps she did get were barely fit for filthy stray street dogs. Most of the people on that day were tucked away and out of sight in their covered carriages, horses trotting past, kicking up mud. She was used to being disappointed. Used to being ignored. Used to going hungry at the end of the day.

"Dungworms, all 'em. Don't care if they dress in linen and fur. They're nothing but beetle-headed rot. Hate all 'em," Lane moaned as a coach passed them by. He threw a vulgar gesture toward them, but only after they were out of sight. It wasn't worth it to get in trouble over.

"S'true. Can't wait for the Spring. At least then we'll have the sun warming us while all the ratbags pretend they're better than us."

They laughed as they looked into the gates that were opening for the carriage. The castle was a majestic landmark. Y/n imagined that inside it was warm with fireplaces in every room and a hot stove in the kitchen that was constantly cooking food for the king and all his staff.

Maybe one day she'd be lucky enough to sneak inside without being caught. She could hide in one of the many rooms and pilfer food little by little and warm her bum at night by one of the fires.

She sighed at the silly dream, as her stomach growled and the gates clanked shut.

. .

The young women were all pretty enough. Harry was sure any one of them would be a fit. It wasn’t like he needed to do more than fuck the new queen until she was pregnant anyway but still… He found the freshly washed, smooth-skinned, rose and powder-scented young ladies of Thornekeep to all be a bore. And what good was making such a boring selection? Harry wanted people to watch. He wanted to see as all the advisor’s jaws fell to the floor. He wanted to make a scene. None of these fancy-frocked girls would do. He needed something more exciting that would really ruffle everyone’s feathers.

Stepping away from the pomp and circumstance of the ball he stood out on his balcony and watched out over the front of the castle yard with people milling about and stringed music floating up toward him. The gates were open with guards at the stand as new arrivals made their way in but he noticed a small group of peons sitting not far from the wall with their baskets and tins held out hoping for a scrap.

And he had a sudden idea. Using his small telescope he fitted it against his eye and lengthened the eyepiece to get a better look. Among the group of menials was a young woman. She was thin (too thin) and she had a scowl about her face but the thing that really stuck out to him was that she was… pretty. Not pretty in the way that many would notice but with a month or two of larded foods and sugared pastries, she’d be just as pretty as any of the girls in the ballroom.

Even better, she was of peasant stock and the kingdom would lose their mind over such a pairing. It was perfect. He could simultaneously cause a stir among the lowly proletariats, the middle-class bourgeoisie, and the affluent magnates at the same time. No one would expect it. And no one could stop it.

Harry descended the stairs as everyone in the room had eyes on him. The King easily dodged anyone looking for attention or conversation and pushed through to the front as he exited the castle. His guards followed close behind with Fred, one of his men in waiting, scrambling to catch up with Harry’s long-legged strides.

“King Styles! Where are you going?”

“Off to meet a young lady who sits opposite the wall. I think I’ve found my Queen.”

The King’s approach felt like slow motion. Guards surrounded as he sauntered along the path toward the gates and Y/n couldn’t imagine why the King himself would be walking through them and not be driven in a carriage. Mud was kicked up on his fine dressings and shoes but he seemed unbothered by the mess.

“You.” He pointed, his finger (adorned with a heavy gold ring) appearing to be directed right at her. “What’s your name?”

Looking to her left and right she furrowed her brow as she looked back to the young king.

“Can you hear or not? You, the one with the fabric basket, what’s your name?”

Putting her hand over her chest she responded. “Me? Your Highness, forgive m–“

“Said– what’s your name, girl?” He spoke in a clipped, annoyed tone.

He stopped in front of her feet, standing tall over where she sat upon the dirt and brick. “My name is Y/n. Your majesty.” She bowed her head.

“None of that. Up. Stand up.”

She felt his hand groping underneath her armpit as she was pulled upward, clutching onto the empty basket.

"How old are you?"

Y/n looked behind herself toward Lane and then back at the king. "I'm 20, your majesty."

His odd inspection had her feeling a bit miffed. She would have told him to watch his hands and to be gentler but this was the king. She couldn’t have imagined what interest he had in her but when he turned her around and held her out in his arms to view her backside he spoke. “We can work with this. Bit skinny but soon enough she’ll be well fed.”

“Your Highness… sir, the young women in the ballroom are far more… Why you can’t possibly–“ his attendant spoke.

“I can do as I please and I say this is the one, Fred.” The King spoke before he twisted Y/n back around and examined her rag of a dress before speaking. “Bring the coach around. I need to have her come in quietly at the back where the servants enter and then brought up to the Rose Room forthwith. We’ll need a few ladies-in-waiting as well. Do that for me without running your mouth to anyone and I’ll give you the night off.”

She watched with wide eyes, confused as the man called Fred scurried off back to the castle and then turned to look up at the king. “Your Majesty, I don’t understand. What is your business with me? Have I done something wrong?”

“On the contrary. Your luck is about to change. With a little sprucing you’ll be quite darling I think. You’ll live with me in the castle henceforth.”

Her lips parted as she dropped her empty basket and looked down at Lane who was also in shock with his mouth agape at the whole encounter before looking back to the King. “I don’t understand. Why will I live with you? Am I being sequestered or summoned for a servant’s job?”

“Oh no. Nothing like that. In one month’s time you’ll be crowned Queen. You and I will produce an heir to the throne once our nuptials bind us for good. You’ll be given your own room with your own attendants and we’ll fatten you up in no time to prepare you for carrying my offspring.”

She gasped and felt everything around her spin and spin and spin until all was dark and her mind stopped reaching for answers.

Harry caught her in his arms before she fell to the ground. He wasn’t surprised she fainted, given how malnourished she appeared. A guard and two of his aids helped bring her inside once the carriage arrived and up to the room that would be hers. A down mattress, silk and velvet bedsheets and blankets, a fireplace lit with a pot of warm water on the hearth, and a tray with a bounty of food were all waiting for her.

And if she was shocked by the King’s announcement about her being the Queen then waking up in such a lavish room that smelled of flowers and the smoke of a warm fireplace surely had her confused.

When she sat up, she felt the weight of a goose-down blanket draped over her body heavily. Blinking her eyes she saw a flickering fire and the ornate details of the room she was in.

“Madam…” A woman was suddenly stood at her side with a towel draped over her arm. “The King has requested that you bathe and eat before we bring you to him. Which would you like first?”

She shook her head, unsure of what was going on exactly. “I… is this for me?” She gestured toward the tray of food. Colorful fruits and a loaf of hearty bread caught her eye. She could go for a meal.

“It is. Would you like anything more?”

She quickly slid her legs from under the blanket and stepped toward the tray. The bright red apple beckoned her so she picked it up and took a large bite of the skin and flesh before tearing off some of the bread and stuffing that in her mouth as well.

There were blackberries, pears, bilberries, plums, a bowl of boiled potatoes, and cream. A pitcher of red wine beckoned with a pretty crystal goblet to drink out of. There was a whole smoked and salted fish, a gob of butter, and her favorite, a plum tart.

She’d nearly eaten the whole tray when she realized the woman had filled a tub with warm water and perfumed oil. She sat down the emptied glass feeling buzzed from the wine and stuffed so full that her ribs ached.

The room she was in was easily twice the size of the slum housing her family was given. The room was opulent and lit with fuel sconces and lanterns. A fireplace kept the space warm and the furnishings were a feast for the eyes. She imagined that the porcelain bowl near the tub would pay for a month of food for her family.

"Your bath is ready, madam. If you'd like I can leave you alone while you bathe or I can assist."

Y/n stepped in closer to the bathtub. It was one of those built-in tubs that you stepped down into, not the metal ones you had to climb up in. Her family didn't even have their own tub. It was shared with the men from the workhouse across the way and set at the back of the buildings outside.

But here, the tub was inside in a warm room and there was even a ledge to sit. Privacy. She'd love a little privacy.

"I'll be fine on my own. Thank you."

The woman nodded and left the room after folding a cloth and placing it near the tub. Y/n began to take her clothes off, the dirty rags left in a stinky pile on the wool rug before she dipped a toe into the bath. The water was hot. She could see the steam rising from it as she slowly slunk down inside and settled her bottom into the seat ledge. She sighed and closed her eyes, letting the water surround her body and soak away the dirt and grime between all her bits and crevices.

And the scent wafting from the water was glorious. Like a flower with honey and tea caressing her skin. She used the small cloth to wipe herself down and then dunked her head to clean her face. The last time she had a proper bath was over a month prior. Her usual cleanup method consisted of a wetted rag wiped over her privy area and underarms.

But to have a hot bath scented with herbs and flowers by a warm fire in a room decorated with the finest fittings was a dream. A real-life fantasy come true. She couldn't wait to tell Lane about the whole thing. It almost all had her so distracted she'd forgotten the reason why she was there in the first place.

She let her limbs float outward as she closed her eyes and basked in the delicious silence. Everything in her life was chaos and noise and panic. But in that moment, none of that existed. Not until the door of her room was being opened and the young woman who'd filled the tub had returned with heavy material and silky fabrics draped over her arms.

She laid the clothes out on the bed in a row as Y/n watched from her spot in the tub.

"I've an outfit here the King has selected for you. I'll help you put it on once you're ready."

Y/n stretched her neck and peered toward the bed. "The King. Will I be seeing him once I'm dressed?"

"Yes, madam. He would like to see you when you're ready."

The reality of it all was heavy when she was helped from the tub and felt the prick of chills run over her skin. As warm as the fireplace made the room, it was still winter outside and she shivered as she dried her skin.

The young woman helped dress her. Y/n'd never worn such frocks before. It was a complicated task, getting dressed in fine clothing. She lost track of all the layers as she was fitted and the material tied around her and her body tossled. But even she could admit, once all the fabric was put into place and the woman began to fuss with her hair she looked quite captivating.

For a beggar.

She was led through a carpeted hall that seemed to stretch the length of the whole of Thornekeep until they were stopped at a wide doorway that opened up to a pair of mammoth wooden double doors. The young woman glanced back at Y/n before she rapped her knuckles over the heavy door firmly.

The door didn't open right away. Moments went by as Y/n shifted on her feet and the young woman nervously smiled at Y/n.

"I'm Phoebe. Think I forgot to introduce myself," she spoke quietly as she trailed her sight over Y/n's dress. "Hopefully the King is kind to you. He's been… difficult—"

The door was pushed open and a beautiful woman with olive skin stepped past them. "He's all yours," she spoke in a sultry voice that Y/n could only hope to one day mimic.

Phoebe gestured for Y/n to pass through and Y/n stepped into the King's chambers. If she thought her room was spectacular, his was a sickening show of lush wealth and haughty, needless adornments.

She was startled when the king spoke from his lounge. "Come. Sit."

Y/n and Phoebe walked deeper into his room and stepped down into a sunken seating area. Harry sat up straight and motioned toward Phoebe. "Not you. Leave us."

When it was just Y/n and Harry and she'd delicately sat her bottom at the furthest spot from the king she could find, Harry got up and placed himself next to her. "Are you scared of me?" He asked with a bright tone, as if it amused him.

"Your majesty, I don't know how to act. I've never seen such indulgent things in all my life as today."

He nodded and looked her over. "What are you wearing?" He lifted at her skirt and she batted his hand away on instinct.

"Phoebe said you picked it for me."

"Who is Phoebe?"

Y/n blinked and looked toward his chamber doors and back at the king in confusion. "The lady who helped dress me and… She was just here with me. The one you sent away."

"How sweet that you learned her name already. And I didn't pick this for you." He plucked at the fabric. "I asked that you come here in nothing but a robe so I could inspect you."

She scooted away from him, her heart racing at the idea of showing herself to him without clothes. Harry laughed and leaned himself back into the large cushioned seat and draped a leg over his knee as he watched her curiously. "You are scared. Good. You should be. Take off your clothes."

Shaking her head she squished herself as far from him as she could but he simply reached his leg out and hooked his foot under her ankle to pull at her. "Don't do that. Said remove your clothes, girl."

"Yo– your majesty… I don't even know how these were put on. I don't know how. I… I've never…" Her heart was racing and she felt her fingers tremble as he sat and grinned at her like this was a game to him.

"What? You can't remove your coverings because you don't know how? I can deal with a timid vazey, but not a liar. Off with your things."

"No! You're rude! I will not!"

The king scoffed, surprised at her disrespect, as he pushed himself up to stand and stood over his bride-to-be. "I am rude, you'll learn well. But I have needs and you're here to keep them. Look at me when I speak to you."

Hesitantly, Y/n lifted her face upward to look into the eyes of the man who she could hardly believe would be her husband. That part—that didn't feel real. Not at all. It couldn't be.

"Have you ever been touched by a man before?"

She thought she might pass out as her skin heated under the scrutiny of his gaze. "No. Of course, not. I'm unwed."

He laughed. "Plenty of unwed ladies get their fannies fucked and fingered, my poor feather-brained girl. You're a virgin?"

She nodded, keeping silent, though not happy about the insult to her intelligence. Perhaps she wasn't as smart as someone with a royal education but she knew how to read and could do basic math, which was more than almost everyone in her social stratus.

"I see." Harry sighed and reached down to grip her jaw and look her over like she was an animal. "Surprised no one has warmed their member with your quim yet. Rather sickly but you are pretty. Have you ever seen one?"

She gulped loudly. "Seen… seen one? What?"

He clicked his tongue and smirked. "A cock, my dear. Have you seen a cock?"

Y/n, though a virgin, wouldn't call herself a prude. She was used to crash speak and rude men but the king was a shock to her. She never imagined someone with his pedigree could be so filthy. "Yes."

He let go of her jaw, keeping his eyes set on hers as he lifted his brows. "Oh, you have. And did you play with it?"

"No!" Y/n looked down at her lap and inhaled a breath. She couldn't believe the conversation she was having with the king.

She felt his long fingers at her jaw again, forcing her to lift her gaze back up at him. "Don't look away from me when we're talking."

She knocked her head up and down and he dropped his hand away from her.

"Would you like to see mine?"

Her eyes widened and she shot her gaze down toward his crotch and then back up to his face. "No."

He smiled and let out a hearty laugh as he began to unbutton his forest green silk tricot coat. He eyed her, waiting to hear her protest again but when she simply watched him he continued to undo his outer layers until he had access to his breeches and tucked his fingers into the buttons at his front flap. Raising a brow he paused to give her a chance to tell him to stop.

But she only watched, flicking her gaze from his hands up to his face. She wouldn't admit it but she was curious. Scared a little of his demeanor and that he was the sovereign and could do as he pleased with her if he wanted, she still wondered what it might look like.

His pink lips curved upward slowly as he unhooked one button and let the fabric drape dangerously low. "I'm not going to make you suck it or anything. But if you want, I won't deny you your pleasure."

Y/n bristled and blinked her eyes away from him to the edge of the room before looking back up at him. "You're rude."

He smiled sweetly, a handsome dimple dipping into his cheek like he wasn't just about to whip out his big fiddle and show her. "You said that, yes… Keep going? Or stop? Up to you. I've got plenty of others I can show it to. They're all waiting, just hoping you disappoint me. They'd love to be in your shoes right now. Vying to be the next Queen of Thornekeep. If you don't want to be here you may leave and go back to the street. What will it be?"

She inhaled slowly and fought the stinging embarrassment that needled at her insides. She wasn't keen on seeing the king's privy member but his handsome face was alluring and if she said no, would she not be kept as Queen? Did she even want to be Queen of Thornekeep? She could say no and he'd send her back out into the cold with her old brown rags and her fabric begging basket. She'd have quite the tale to tell but that would be it. Everything would go back to how it always was. She'd continue sitting in the street and asking for kindness from strangers who wouldn't even offer her a glance, as the excruciating pain of hunger slowly ate her alive.

"Continue," Y/n spoke as confidently as she was able to. She didn't want that life anymore. Though she had no idea what she was getting herself into with the king, she figured it was better than life as a beggar. Cold, dirty, starved, angry, riddled with pain in her bones like she was an elderly woman… Being fed, bathed in perfumed oils, and dressed in fine silk and wool skirts, inside a warm castle, with a bedroom all her own wasn't just tempting, she wanted it. Even her bed and its heavy down blanket were to die for. Worth the humiliation.

Plus, if she told herself the biggest truth of it all, he was dashing. More than just dashing. He was the most fine-looking man she might have ever laid eyes upon. But she wasn't ready to admit the way his green eyes had her pulse fluttering like a small bird.

Harry reached down to run a finger over her jaw gently while he unplucked the second button from the front flap. "Keep your eyes on mine for a moment."

She tried to wet the dry desert of her throat as she steadied her eyes on him, which turned out to be quite the task when she could see at the limn of her vision his hand working something fleshy just in front of her. His cock was out, she knew that much, but she wanted so badly to take a quick glimpse.

"Mmm… Your eyes are pretty," he spoke, still moving his hand about. "How many cocks have you seen?"

Blinking her eyes softly she puffed out a shaky lungful of air. "I don't know. The men at the workhouse who use our tub just walk around nude."

"And they never touched you?" His finger felt sweet on her face and for a moment she thought he was a man she could find herself trusting, loving even. Perhaps she was too naive.

She shook her head. "I wouldn't let them."

"They tried?"

"A few."

He clenched his jaw and stretched his neck as he lifted his sight away from hers. She resisted the urge to peek at his crotch even though she could have gotten away with it right then as he wasn't looking at her.

When he returned his gaze down at her he stepped in closer, pushing her legs apart to stand between her feet. He glanced down at himself and moved his hand from her jaw. "Look at your king's cock."

Y/n swallowed hard and blinked as she shifted her stare downward until she saw the big thing in her face, swollen and thick. And long. His big palm was wrapped around the space of him that grew out from a thatch of dark hair.

Now, she'd seen cocks before. Soft ones, hard ones, weird and infected ones… The workmen didn't care who saw when it came to bathtime and some of them even tried to get her to participate if she were anywhere near them. But Harry's was… well, it looked fit for a king she supposed. Maybe all royals had clean, pretty pricks.

"Touch it."

She glanced up at him, struggling to even breathe. Not only was the corset pulled too tight around her ribs, but the king's vulgar words and his cock in her face were making her feel quite fettered and discombobulated. Her chest heaved so hard she was worried she was about to burst the stay lace that held the corset together.

She reached her fingers upward and focused on the very tip of him where there was a small slit that carved outward like it was draped in a blanket made of smooth flesh. The rest of him was a little more crude with veins that ran along the rigid flesh. When she touched the top of it with her fingertip she gasped and pulled her hand away. It was like a warm small naked creature that'd been warmed by the fire for a bit too long.

"He's not going to bite. He might spit at you, though." He laughed. "Touch it. No need to be virtuous with me. You'll have to get used to handling it anyway."

"It's the first I've touched. I… Where should I place my hand?" She was genuinely worried she'd do it wrong, and he was the king so she was cautious.

King Styles reached down to grab at her hand and he spat a big glob of slick from his mouth that pooled into her palm. She winced as he placed her hand on the long shaft of himself, pressing her fingers around his girth and guiding her upward to his smooth tip.

"What do you think? Not bad, right?"

When he let go of her hand she slowly continued smoothing his spit over his flesh and peered closely at the organ. It was a curious thing to touch a penis. She was surprised by how warm it was and the mechanics of how all that worked were still somewhat of a mystery to her. She understood that men used their pricks to stick babies into women and that it hurt and it was disgusting.

"It feels funny. S'really warm."

"Is it?" He smirked down at her as she examined him, her hand still sliding in very stunted strokes up and down. He quite enjoyed the way she looked at it in awe. Of course, the way she was handling him did him no good. That wasn't going to do anything for him but she'd learn soon enough what he liked. Whether she liked it or not.

"How does it feel for you?" Y/n knew enough to know that for men, it felt good and that while what she was doing wasn't sex, it should be favorable for him.

"You'll need teaching but your little hand will never feel quite as nice as your mouth or the warm treasure you're hiding between your legs."

She stopped and frowned at him. "I haven't ever—"

"Yes, we know. You haven't touched a man before. But we'll change all of that, won't we? Keep going with your hand and spit on it."

Sliding her palm over his tacky skin she spat over the spot just above her fist and smeared her saliva upward. "What will I tell my mum and dad? I should tell them where I am and—"

"Oh, girl." He patted her cheek condescendingly. "Let's not talk about mum and dad while you're working my knob. Tomorrow we'll fetch them."

She swallowed and tried to focus but everything was so overwhelming.

"Are we going to have intercourse?" She looked up at him with big pretty eyes.

"Of course we are. How else do you expect to find yourself with child?"

"I don't know… I'm scared to do it. I don't like the idea of it."

Harry pushed her hand away and tucked himself back into his front flap as he sighed. "You're no good at this. And if you don't want to learn how to be good for me then there's no need for you."

He turned to walk away, leaving Y/n sitting on his plush sofa she sat up straight, confused. "Should I… What shall I do?"

Harry pulled his jacket into place and rebuttoned it as he looked at her with an indifferent expression. "Go to your room or stay here. I don't care particularly either way. I was disappointed by you so I'm going to have to call in someone who can please me properly. Someone who can do the things you can't. If you want to stay and watch and learn then so be it."

Y/n stood up quickly and clasped her hands together in front of her hips. "Your majesty, please—"

"My King. You'll address me either as My King or My Lord. Yes?"

She nodded quickly, stepping closer to him. "Yes, my King. I only need a little more time to learn. I promise tomorrow I'll be better for you. I'll do whatever you need. Please don't replace me."

Harry lifted a brow, his still unreadable expression was worrying to Y/n but the way he scraped his eyes down her frame made every inch of her body burn. He wouldn't tell her but he was pleased with her already despite what he'd told her. She was desperate and quite pretty and that was all he required. She played into his rude affront exactly as he hoped and it had her worried he wasn't going to keep her. He had no plans to touch anyone else now that he had his mind made up. She'd do just fine once she learned to be more obedient and malleable.

"We shall see." He flicked a hand in the air and then gestured toward his door. "Off you go. You'll try again to be better tomorrow. You'll have one more chance to prove yourself to me."

She felt defeated. Walking slowly past him she turned to look back once more and watched him step out onto his balcony, the lace curtains blowing in the wind as he moved out of view. Pushing at the heavy wooden door she bit down on her lip to keep herself from crying. She didn't know if she was more upset with herself for not being bolder, or if she was angry at how the king had just treated her so poorly and insulted her. The situation was discouraging but she was determined. She'd dealt with worse, hadn't she?

Phoebe met her outside the doors and walked her back toward her room. Y/n wasn't sure how she was going to work up the courage to be enough for the king. She didn't want him to find another to take her place so she needed to do something. But what?

"Would you like anything, madam?" Phoebe asked.

"Are there books here in the castle? A library?" Perhaps she could read about pleasing a man if such a thing existed.

"Yes. A grand library. I can't read myself. Are you able to?"

Y/n nodded. "I can read, yes. I'd like to see it. Would you show me there?"

. .

next part >>

. .

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[4] It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST

Ch. 4 Word Count: 8,762

Ch. 4 Warning: Talk of menstruation and bleeding, mentions of blood and wartime, aggressive male behavior (Harry gets a little violent with the Lord Mayor), discrimination

It's Good to Be King Masterlist

. .

Y/n hadn't been given a choice on the style of her wedding dress. It had already been selected for her. But it was breathtaking. She'd never seen anything like it before, and that she would soon be wearing it in front of the kingdom? It was no wonder she was not given a choice. She would never have picked such a lavish thing because she did not feel worthy of it.

That morning was her first fitting. She stood with her arms stretched outward, one person on each side, holding her steady, while the dressmaker pinned and tucked and cut at the lace and the silk, adjusting it to her size. Mrs. Mable was the royal seamstress, and Y/n couldn't help but feel she held some contempt for her. The way she was pulling and prodding, even poking her with pins, all felt intentional.

"Ow!" Y/n winced when Mrs. Mable stuck a pin through the silk skirt, and it grazed her skin. Again. She was becoming ireful toward the woman when all she wanted was to relive the kiss she'd just had with the king, not a few hours earlier. She'd received a handful of strangers into the Rose Room for the fitting, and she'd been soaring with hot cheeks and a softly fluttering heart before Mrs. Mable got her hands on her.

She didn't know that the lace had its own name, Honiton, or that the diamond necklace they showed her (to be kept in its satin case until the day of the wedding) was Turkish. The dress had an off-the-shoulder, open neckline, with layered sleeves down to her elbows, all lined with the special lace. The silk corset bodice was pointed downward in a deep V, while the skirt was full and pleated silk.

Staring at her figure in the mirror, she felt like a fraud. How had this happened to her? How had luck (or misfortune, she wasn't sure yet) stricken her so abruptly? It was one thing to have been expecting her new lot, to have been raised up for it and accustomed to royal life, but it was another to have been plucked from the streets, shoved into it blindly, and to have people enraged by her presence without ever getting to know her first.

"Please be careful. You're poking her…" Phoebe said to Mrs. Mable.

The woman, whose face was hidden behind silk and lace as she bunched up the bottom hem of the dress, dropped her pin cushion to the floor as she jabbed another sharp object into the fabric. "She'll be fine. I've only nicked her a few times. It's part of the work if you want it done properly."

"But she will be your queen. She is to be treated with the utmost care and —"

Mrs. Mable stood up and pulled at the back collar of Y/n's dress, making her nearly stumble. "Queen Consort. There is a difference. We'll see if she makes it that far."

"The King is taken by her. She will prove you all wrong. You'll see." Phoebe crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the dressmaker.

Y/n glanced at Phoebe in warning. She didn't want people arguing over her status. It wasn't worth it. If Mrs. Mable wanted to treat her like she was still a street beggar, all while fitting her for her royal wedding gown, then so be it. She'd soon learn who she was dealing with, and Y/n would not forget the treatment she was being subjected to.

"We will see." Mrs. Mable turned Y/n around and took her measuring tape to her hips, waist, and bust, before spinning her around again to help her step out of the dress. "I'll return two days before the wedding for the final fitting, along with the finished veil. And don't get too heavy-handed with tarts or the dress will be too tight."

Y/n looked down at her figure and glanced at it in the mirror. She hadn't gained very much weight at all, but kept being told she needed to gain more. Now there was the dressmaker telling her to go lightly on the very tart Y/n requested to have in the room for herself and anyone else who wanted some. Her mood was a little foul after having been prodded and nicked, so she huffed, stepping past Mrs. Mable to grab a piece of tart and shove it into her mouth as she stared at the woman in defiance.

When the dressmaker and her helpers left the room, Phoebe closed the door and leaned into it, shaking her head. "That woman is awful. There's gossip that she's been vying to have her daughter meet the king before you two are wed."

Y/n slid her standard dress back on, and Phoebe pushed herself from the door to help fasten the back. "What do you mean? To present her to him? For marriage?"

"I believe so."

She knew that the middle and upper classes of Thornekeep were spoiled and mean. So, it shouldn't have surprised her that Mrs. Mable didn't take seriously her eventual new title, and that she hoped her daughter could steal the designation for herself. Y/n was slowly learning about the politics of the kingdom and she was going to have to brace herself for what was soon to come.

"Now let's finish that tart."

. .

Harry was seething. The council had found the Lord Mayor guilty, but he was only charged a measly fine for his transgression. A fine! Imagine forcefully taking the king's wife-to-be from her quarters, openly disrespecting the crown, and humiliating her in front of the kingdom… and the punishment was nothing more than a fine?

He couldn't believe it when the news was sent to him. He'd planned on an in-person visit to retrieve the brooch from the Lord Mayor, but when he learned he'd gotten away with nary a slap to the wrist, he immediately sought out his Proctor to go back before the council to appeal the decision. His only recourse was to prove she'd been hurt in some way.

He stormed into the room where Y/n was in the middle of her etiquette class, and the governess stood from her chair quickly and lowered her head. "Your Majesty."

He breezed by the woman and pulled Y/n's chair out, dropping down to his knees in front of her without so much as a glance toward the governess. Y/n gasped when he pulled her skirts up and he put his hand over the dark blue and brown spot on her knee. He'd seen the bruise the morning before when he tried to get her to join him in his tub.

"This. Did this happen when they pushed you around and removed you from the castle?"

Y/n blinked slowly at him as he looked up at her. He looked desperate, wild. She had nearly forgotten the bruise herself and she certainly hadn't realized he'd even seen the thing.

"Yes. I was pushed down to my knees and hands from the steps. It was bruised much worse at first, but it's better now. Can hardly feel it really."

"And who pushed you? His name, Y/n. Was it the Lord Mayor?"

"I… I'm not sure. It was two men… The Lord Mayor never touched me except to take the brooch."

She watched as he clenched his jaw and looked down at the bruise, his thumb running along the top of her knee. "He was there, though. Did you hear him order the men to take you?"

Y/n thought back to that awful morning, and she nodded. "Yes. He said that your duties fall on him when you're away and that it was his command. And Niall! The guard, who's just there outside the door. He was there and he heard it and saw it all. That's who he said it to."

"So he ordered men to do this to you. And we have a witness." He pushed himself to stand up and stepped away quickly, back toward the door, before he turned to speak again. "I will get your brooch back for you today."

When the door was closed, the governess looked shocked as she watched Y/n slide the fabric back down her legs.

"What? Is this what it takes for you to notice my presence? The king himself must barge into your classroom and cause a disturbance for you to realize I'm sitting here?"

The woman wiped her hands down her dress and turned toward the table to speak. It seemed she only spoke to Y/n with her back turned to her. "I notice. I've already taught you plenty—"

Y/n stood up. "You should speak to me with more respect from now on. I will be the queen soon. If not, I'm sure the king will have words with you next. I will not return for any remaining classes. I understand now that I have much better manners than even you do."

She dismissed herself and stepped out of the room with that awful woman. Niall was waiting at the door, and he greeted her with a polite, sharp nod. "At least you and Phoebe are kind to me," she said, smiling at him as she began to walk toward the grand staircase that would lead them up to the king's chambers. "And you're kind to Phoebe as well. Thank you for that."

Niall didn't speak often. His duties didn't allow for it. But a few times he let his guard slip — so to speak — and he'd say a few words. "I've no reason to disrespect you or your lady-in-waiting."

Y/n smiled to herself as she continued up the steps. The stairs were wide, and they seemed to go on forever. The landings, on the way up, split the levels into threes, and the stairs curved around and continued up until they found the floor with the king's chambers and the Rose Room, where her chambers were. "If you disrespected Phoebe, I'm sure she'd be heartbroken. She rather likes you."

Before Y/n could pull the door open with it's heavy iron knob Niall spoke. "She does? Did she say something?"

She looked around the hallway and then up at Niall. "Of course she did. But that's nothing I can discuss with you. Secret is safe with me. No need to worry."

. .

Y/n had a large bruise on her left knee and a castle guard as witness. Harry doubted anyone else would offer to attest. He'd bring Niall with him the following day to meet again with the Proctor for proof of the Lord Mayor's mishandling of his queen-to-be. But first, he needed to find the Lord Mayor to deal with him at once and retrieve the brooch.

He didn't bother announcing his arrival or sending the house steward to call to the Lord Mayor that he was there. And it was good to be king because it meant that people had to listen to what he asked of them, even if they didn't much like him. So when he lowered his hand and stepped inside, the house steward bowed his head and let Harry in without a peep.

He wasn't hard to find. Harry spotted him quickly in his first-floor study, reading, and the Lord Mayor stood in haste. "Your Majesty. To what do I owe the honor of your sudden and unexpected presence?"

The king stepped toward the large bookshelf and ran a finger over the hard bindings. Harry's saunter and cold grin were vexing. The Lord Mayor had never met anyone so plaguy in his life. The king was full of himself and was purposefully bucking tradition. He had a much more suitable and beautiful option than Y/n, which the king would have loved.

"You have something that belongs to Y/n. The woman to whom I will be wed at the end of next week."

"I have nothing in my home that belongs to that girl."

Harry bit down on his molars as his dark gaze seared at the Lord Mayor before he bounded toward him, heavy steps over the wooden floors, until the king's hand was wrapped around the man's throat and his back pressed against the wall.

"I will not be disrespected by you once more, Virgil," he spat the name between his teeth. "First, you insult me behind my back and make a show of carting off my wife-to-be and her family like animals. And now you lie to my face? If you do not produce the brooch, that will be considered theft, which you will regret when I drag you before the council."

The man's eyes were wide as he tried to pry the king's strong grip from his windpipe. He wheezed as the back of his throat constricted when he attempted to speak.

"I can't hear you. Speak louder, worm."

Harry was enjoying watching Virgil squirm and gasp. He could squeeze tighter and hold on for a few minutes longer, be done with the man for good. But then, having to explain to Parliament what had happened would be awfully annoying, so he opted for just scaring him instead.

"You were much easier to subdue than I imagined. But then again, you have aged like spoiled curd. Flimsy muscles trying to pry my hand away. Give it another go. Let's see what you've got, old man."

The Lord Mayor did not have it in him to pry Harry's hand from his throat. And it was true, he was getting older and his body was not as virile as it had once been. He was no match for the young king. He tried twisting, but instead of working himself free, Harry released him and stepped back as the man fell to the floor and violently coughed.

Harry laughed as he stepped around the Lord Mayor to his desk and sat down in the chair, closing the book Virgil had been reading. "Where's the brooch? Or should I fetch your wife and tell her what you've done?"

The Lord Mayor, with his palm at his throat, coughed. "King Styles…" He inhaled sharply, his voice pinched as he tried to speak after the king had restricted his air. "I was protecting you. Protecting Thornekeep!"

Harry glared at the pathetic man, still on the floor, trying to push himself to his knees. "You defied me and the kingdom. You showed contempt toward Y/n and her family." He pushed himself from the chair and stood over Virgil, looking down at him. "And on your command, you had two men push her down to her knees, inflicting pain and making her bruise. That is assault, which will not go unpunished."

The Lord Mayor finally leveraged himself to stand, placing a hand on the bookshelf and pulling himself upward. "My Lord, please. The girl is a street beggar. Her word is not to be trusted. My advice is to consider another—"

Harry stepped in closer, his boots bumping into the old man's as he pushed him by his chest, his back against the bookshelf. "Your advice is not needed nor warranted. I am King. I will choose what I please, and I will have what I want."

The man stood with his hands upward as he bent back and away from the king, still standing toe-to-toe with him. "I didn't hurt the girl or her family. I simply returned them from where they came."

"I will have you tried for treason. Assault! What you did to her is inexcusable. You flagrantly disobeyed my command. If the council doesn't find you guilty, I do. And if they don't impose a more severe penalty, I will. I'll take this into my own hands if need be."

"There's a beautiful young woman. Much lovlier than Y/n. Pearl is her name… Smart, golden hair, a virgin. Her family comes from—"

Harry laughed loudly, cutting Virgil off. "I will marry Y/n. I want no one else for my queen. You have overstepped your duties with me, and after I'm done with you, you will not be welcome in or near the castle. You will be stripped of your title, and you and your wife will be considered a disgrace to the kingdom. I will see to it."

"Please… My Lord…" He kept his hands upward in surrender. "This is excessive. Do you really think that having my title stripped will be well received by the proletariat who elected me? It would be bedlam! The people would not stand for such controversy!"

"Has it not gotten into your skull, yet, that I am not concerned by outrage or controversy. Let them be angry. Anger is better than complacency."

"Complacency is prosperous. Anger is costly."

"And I have the means to pay whatever the cost if need be."

"You are going to bankrupt the kingdom with your frivolous actions. Your father would be turning in his grave if he knew what you were up to."

Harry spat, "Good. I hope my father rots. Let the spoiled aristocracy learn to work for their meals like everyone else. Have you seen the rookeries? Do you know the reality of what sits on the outskirts? Thornekeep is prosperous, but only for you. Only for those who don't need it."

"Oh, pish!" Virgil laughed incredulously. "You act like some kind of martyr, yet you've seen the rookeries of Thornekeep but once! Stop this madness! You will drive our kingdom into the ground with your foolishness! You've no idea the damage it will cause—"

Harry slammed his fist into the wood of the bookcase directly next to the Lord Mayor's head. "I have been to the slums in many a kingdom. You forget, maggot, that I spent most of my adulthood outside of Thornekeep as commander-in-chief of our kingdom's armies. I led my men to victory in dangerous battles across the land. I fought alongside the downtrodden. I've lived it. I've seen it all up close. I do not care who hates me. Let my father's rest be disturbed. I care not!"

"Heavens! What is going on?" Virgil's wife appeared in the doorway, the look of surprise on her face quite amusing to Harry.

Harry patted the Lord Mayor's shoulder and stepped back. "We were just having a good ol' chat about my future wife. Though Virgil here does seem to fancy a golden-haired girl called Pearl, I explained to him that I'm a man with morals and already spoken for. I'm sure any other man would be grateful for a chance with her. Even married ones like yourself."

The woman blinked in surprise at her husband. "Little Pearl? You mean Mr. and Mrs. Mable's daughter?"

Harry nodded, clasping his hands behind his back as he moved toward the doorway and smiled casually at her. "Yes. I believe that was who he was referring to. He's quite fond of the girl. I don't know how he's become privy to her virginal status, but your husband seems quite excited about that detail. Bit too young for me…"

He leaned in closer to the Lord Mayor's wife and spoke quietly. "I prefer 'em thicker through the calf and more mature personally, but your husband has his own tastes, I presume. Just keep an eye on him around little Pearl, will you?"

"Your majesty!?" The woman looked at the king, her mouth agape.

Harry grinned back at the man. "My wife's brooch, the one you stole? Have it sent to her within the hour, or I will be back again before nightfall."

. .

Y/n felt feverish and her insides were twisting and turning and squeezing tight, like her guts were being clamped together and wrung into a ball. Her sisters' bickering about the little game they were playing nearly tipped her over the edge of anger. She wanted to scream at them for silence. And most interestingly, she hadn't been able to finish the dinner that was served to her either. She had no appetite.

"Y/n. Are you feeling alright? You look unwell." Her mother put the back of her hand up to her forehead and gasped. "My child! You're burning hot! Phoebe! Where is Phoebe? Where is the guard?"

Y/n sighed and leaned forward as she closed her eyes, placing her elbows on the table. She wasn't worried about her manners at that moment. She felt like she was about to vomit. She heard her mother shuffle from the dining room to find Phoebe, who'd just wandered off only moments before.

If she hadn't been in so much sudden pain, she would have found it amusing that both Phoebe and Niall were nowhere in sight. Pushing herself from her chair to stand, her father rushed to her side. "Careful there. Here we go."

He leveraged her to standing, draping her arm over his shoulder, and began to help her back to the King's quarters. Before they had reached the stairs, Phoebe was there on her other side, arm drawn across her back to help. "I'm so sorry, madam! I didn't know you were poorly. I would have—"

"It's okay, Pheobe. Don't stress. I just need to lie down…"

She hadn't seen the king all afternoon and figured it was better that he wasn't seeing her in that state. He'd probably change his mind about her altogether if he saw her like that. If she wasn't healthy, what good was she to him? She inhaled sharply through clenched teeth when a spasm wracked her organs.

"Should we fetch a doctor?" Her father said.

"I just need to lie down. Please."

Y/n was brought to the king's bed and propped against the pillows when she noticed her mother, sisters, and Niall standing in the doorway watching. She didn't want an audience. She wanted to rest and needed the pain to go away.

Phoebe pulled at the blankets as she tried to make the bed more comfortable, and Y/n groaned. "Please… I just need rest. I'm not dying." Although she felt like she was.

"Yes. Of course. We'll leave you be. But we will be fetching a doctor whether you like it or not."

Y/n closed her eyes and rolled to her side as her father and Phoebe finally left the room. She groaned quietly and hugged herself around her stomach. She wondered if she'd eaten something bad. Or perhaps God was finally punishing her for her lustful thoughts and behavior.

Making herself into a ball, she clenched her teeth and felt something wet on her leg. She paused and slowly she reached down, bringing her hand under her chemise to feel, and when she lifted her hand in front of her face, she hadn't expected to see blood.

Blood coming from… there?

She pushed herself up to sit and pulled at her skirt. More blood. "Am I with my monthly sickness?" she whispered.

It had been some months since she'd bled at all, so to suddenly see blood… Well, it explained the pain she was feeling, though it'd never ached like that before. Hissing in pain, she bent forward and closed her eyes. At least now she knew she wasn't going to die.

. .

Y/n startled when the door to her chambers was suddenly pushed open, and in stepped a vexed-looking Harry. "Are you okay? I was told you've fallen ill."

"I'm not ill. Not in the sense that I'm sick with something I've caught. It's my…" She glanced away and sighed before looking him back in the eye. "Lunation."

"Lunation," he said the word slowly as he stood there, blinking at her. If she'd ever seen a confused man before, he was it. She nearly laughed at the expression on his face. To see the king look at her like that… Well, it wasn't something she felt she'd be seeing often. Had no one told him? She'd assumed everyone in the castle was talking about it by now.

"I'm having my menses."

"Oh! Yes. I see..." He stepped in closer next to her bed. "But why must you be here? I thought I'd find you in my room."

Y/n pressed her hands into the top of the bedding she sat upon. "Special mattress. They put this over the bigger one underneath. To catch my blood. I didn't think you'd want me next to you while I'm… well…"

Harry pushed his hand over the thin, smaller mattress and nodded. "Is it comfortable. Feels stiff."

"Nicer than anything I used to sleep on. I'm perplexed that this is meant for me to bleed on, and then it gets burned after. I'd have loved to have had this mattress at one time."

"Is it always like this for you? Your menses?"

Y/n leaned back and placed her hands over her stomach. "No. I haven't bled in some time. It was never on schedule anyway. The doctor said I must have been malnourished, and now that I'm eating well, my body is… revitalising was the word he used. He did come with tea and some medicine, and I feel much better now, though. He said I'll be fine."

She heard him push out a breath, like he'd been holding it in. "I've got something for you…"

He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out the lovely brooch that had been taken from her. She smiled and sat up. "I'm so glad it's not been lost for good. It's so beautiful."

Harry reached for her hand and placed the golden breastpin into her palm. "Virgil will not be coming around here again. His invitation to the wedding has been revoked. My Proctor is working on having his title stripped."

"Thank you for getting it back for me. I realize my presence here is an incumbrance. To you and to everyone who cares about the crown. I can see I'm not well-liked in this castle."

Harry furrowed his brow and trailed his eyes over her figure. "Who else has been rude with you?"

"Besides you?" She tucked her lips into her mouth and watched his expression fall.

"My rudeness was meant to be a test of your resolve. Have I not amended myself to you?"

"Little by little, I suppose. I can't expect you to dote on me like a man burning with desire when you have none for me."

"I may not express my desires plainly, but I would not have you here if I didn't want you here. Perhaps it's not evident to you, my motivations, but you have been a surprise to me. A pleasant one. One that I intend on keeping for good."

Y/n had only been teasing at first, but his tiny confession was consoling to her. She knew there was a small flame burning between them, but his visage was not an easy one to see through.

"You chose me to anger the kingdom and to produce an heir. Are you saying now that there's more to it than just that?"

He clenched his jaw and slid his irises down to her bare feet. "It is true that was my initial purpose with you. But as I said, you've been a surprise to me."

She looked down at her feet as he ran the pad of his finger over her ankle and then upward to her shin, stopping at the bottom hem of her chemise. She swallowed as she looked back up to his face at his lips. The lips she'd kissed just the morning before. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about how it felt. It left such a warm, lingering sensation on her skin that she was sure she'd never be without it again.

Harry sat down at the edge of the mattress, his hand still on her shin, before he drew his fingers back down to her ankle. He'd been so worried about her at first. His assistant, Fred, told him she'd nearly fainted at dinner and had to be brought to bed, and something about a doctor. He probably should have waited to hear the rest, but his legs were carrying him quickly up to his room to get to her before he could even think about what he was doing.

When he didn't find her in his room, he dashed back into the hallway like a madman to the Rose Room, to her quarters. His heart had been racing, and he was already thinking the worst. Until he saw her propped against her feather pillows with her pretty eyes aimed wide at his intrusion.

The truth was, his mind had been in a fog since he'd kissed her. He wasn't a man who kissed his conquests typically. He found kissing to be a waste when his only intention was usually to get himself off. But Y/n's mouth was soothing and sweet. He could have let himself kiss her for hours, just savoring the smell of her skin and the tiny licks of her tongue against his. Best of all, her breath wasn't offensive in the least. It was like herbs and warm honey.

He brushed his knuckles against his lips in reverie and pressed his palm over her shin, wrapping his fingers around the underside, and kept his gaze fixed on her. He didn't know what he'd have done if she had been worse off. He was still feeling the waves of calming relief easing his mind now that he'd found her well.

"You've also been a surprise to me. I disliked you at first. Thought you were the devil." She smiled softly, biting her lip and then releasing it.

"I'm still the devil, little mouse. That, you were not wrong about."

She shook her head. "No. You're different with me. If you were still treating me as you had at first, I'd be contemplating running off with Lane."

His brows stitched together tightly, and the ease on his face was gone. "Lane. Is he going to be a problem for us?"

"A problem? He's my friend."

"He's a friend who's smitten with you, and you just said you'd thought of running off with him. Are you also smitten with him?"

Y/n laughed and shook her head. "Heavens no! Never."

Harry did not laugh with her. "But you're close to one another. Has he ever tried to kiss you?"

She stopped chuckling and blinked at the king slowly. Was she to lie to him and say no? Certainly, he wouldn't take it well if she told him the truth. She'd seen him in his jealousy before and wasn't keen on another outburst from him.

Looking down at where he was now clutching her shin, she shook her head no but kept her lips pressed together. She was afraid that if she were to speak the lie, he'd see right through her.

Harry reached toward her chin and tilted her face up. "Look at me when you answer. Have you kissed him?"

She blinked harshly and inhaled through her nose as she shook her head again, but she couldn't lie when she was looking directly at him. "Just… Well… Once. He was drunk, and I only wanted him to stop asking, so I let him, but that was it. I never even thought of him like that… I—"

"Who else have you kissed other than me?"

"My Lord, I—"

"Harry." He interrupted. "In private, you will call me by my given name, unless you plan on running off with another man, then the cold formalities will do. So tell me. How many others have you kissed?"

"No one else. Just you. I can hardly even count Lane, it was gross."

He let go of her chin and stood up, stepping away, his back to her. "And did he do anything else to you? Touch you anywhere he shouldn't?"

"Of course not. You are the only one who's ever touched me where he shouldn't."

Harry turned to look at her. "Where I shouldn't? Are you the maker of the law now? To tell the king, your husband, that he shouldn't touch you?"

"We're not wed yet."

"I could wed you tonight if I so please. Do not forget who I am."

"How could I? You're the devil. Just like you said."

Harry let out an incredulous sigh and shook his head. "You're free to leave if you like. I'm sure you'd prefer Lane over the devil."

She crossed her legs together and sat up, glaring at him. "Your jealousy is risible when the whole kingdom knows of your past exploits. How many women before me did you lie with and kiss, and how many do you still take?"

She wasn't sure she was prepared to hear his answer. She was sure he'd been having his fun and would continue to.

Stepping back toward the bed, he narrowed his eyes at her and placed his palms down on the mattress. "Since you? None. I haven't."

"You didn't return to your room last night. I must assume you were in another woman's bed."

"I was in my office working. I slept there. I have taken no women since you have arrived, and before you, it matters not."

She wanted to believe that he had not been soothing his heathen nature with other women, but a man like Harry, the king, could do as he pleased, and Y/n would have no say in what he did when he was away from her.

"Then why should it matter that a boy once kissed me a long time ago? And I don't think I believe that you've been keeping your fiddle clean either."

He couldn't answer her first question without sounding like a pathetic sap, but he knew the answer was because he was, in fact, jealous. He thought that when he'd kissed her, he had been her first. Harry didn't know why he was feeling so sentimental about a little kiss, but he likened the feeling to someone having poked a sharp pin into his chest. Even her accusation left him stung in pain.

"I might be the devil to you, but your accusations of me are false. I have no interest in anyone else in that way."

"But you could if you wanted. You're the all-powerful king. What's stopping you from rogering any other pretty girl who surely throws herself at your feet? Certainly, it isn't because of me."

Harry stood up, removing his hands from the mattress and stared at her in disbelief. He'd been accused of many things before, but somehow, having Y/n fault him with infidelity when he'd practically been a saint was absurd.

"Would you like me to go off and stick my fork into another woman? I have no interest in doing such a thing, but you seem quite fond of the idea."

She looked away from him. She wasn't sure why he cared or why she was provoking him. "I'm tired. I need rest."

"You didn't answer me earlier. Who else has been rude with you, Y/n? Tell me."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she sighed as she looked back at him. "The governess, the laundress, the dressmaker, some of the maids, the castle steward, the butler's servants, one of the footmen was particularly hateful when I was being dragged away into the cart—"

"Is your lady in waiting also hostile with you?"

She shook her head. "No. Phoebe's very kind. I think of her as a friend. Niall too, he's also very genial. I trust them both equally.

Harry looked down at the floor and worked the bottom part of his jaw from side to side. He hadn't realized that so many of his staff had been cruel to her. He expected some friction, but this? He lifted his gaze back up to hers. "Why haven't you told me?"

"Did you not already imagine I'd be treated with such disdain? No one wants me here in the castle… Well, most don't. I represent everything they hate."

"I suppose I was mistaken in thinking that even if they disliked you, they wouldn't outright scorn you. Even the governess?" He shook his head and placed his hand on the wooden poster of the bed.

"I've tried everything with her. I meet with her on time for every class. I'm polite, quiet, and I always practice what she's shown me. But I've come to accept that she thinks she's wasting her time with me… that I'm not worth the trouble. She never looks at me. Only speaks with her back turned, and then half the class acts like I don't exist. Most of the hour is spent looking at a wall while she reads. One time, I arrived early and she wasn't there. When she finally stepped into the room, it was half past and she never once looked at me or spoke, even when I asked her what she'd be teaching me that day."

"Do not indulge her anymore. You needn't put yourself through that kind of turmoil for a class that teaches useless politesse."

"I won't. I told her today that I wouldn't return."

"Good. And how are your parents faring?"

Y/n smiled, confused and a little astounded by the sudden change of subject as well as the shift in his mood. "They are very happy. I think they, too, are treated poorly, but they ignore it because they're so strong-headed. The beds and the food are quite enough to keep their mouths shut about ill treatment."

She watched as he traced his fingers over the thin stuffed mattress she sat on. "As soon as you are given your title, anyone who treats your family badly will be punished for it."

Y/n nodded and looked down at the brooch in her hand, running her thumb along the engraving. The small thing was heavier than it looked. She was glad to have it back, mostly so that it wasn't lost. She knew it meant a lot to Harry because it was once his mother's.

"She didn't have a chance to wear it but a handful of times," he said, looking at the breastpin. "They were going to bury it with her, but I stole it." He smiled at the memory as he traced his finger along the edge of the blanket near her thigh. "It was sitting in a tin tray with her other valuable jewels, and after I took it, my father tore the castle apart to try and find it. No one ever suspected it was me. Had hidden it for many years, then took it with me to war. No one ever knew."

Y/n looked up at him. She wasn't surprised that he'd stolen it as a child, and somehow it made him seem so much more human. He was just a small boy when he lost his mother. He deserved to have a piece of her to take with him.

"So you've always had a rebellious heart."

He licked his lips and looked down at her. "Yes. I suppose I have."

"Do you miss her?"

Stress lines carved into his forehead. "Not anymore. I still think of her, though. Fond memories… I came to terms with all that a long time ago."

"You're a very strong person."

"Strong? Maybe. Most everything is a farce, Y/n. I prefer the appearance of stoicism, so that's what I allow everyone to see. It's better to keep emotion out of reach."

"Does that mean you don't allow yourself to feel sad or happy?"

"I don't allow others to see it. That does not mean I don't feel those things. I do, however, prefer to remain rational. I let logic rule, not my emotions."

"But you are making significant changes by rejecting convention. You are causing tumult in the kingdom, and people are outraged. How is it that you are ruling by logic when you've created such a stir amongst the people?"

Harry sighed and sat down next to her, his eyes reaching from her face down to the brooch in her hand. "Do you believe that my actions speak of a man governed by his irrational feelings?"

"Some people think you're acting rashly. But to me, I find your plight noble. The poors are always overlooked. We fend for ourselves the best we can, but now to have the king on our side feels like our voice has finally been heard. Emotional or rational thinking, I don't know. But it's not without good virtue or mindful discernment."

"Mindful discernment." He smiled as he returned his gaze to hers. "I suppose I do have a soft spot for the undervalued among us. Even if it began as a means to an end."

Y/n let the words sink into her pores. She knew all along that he chose her to upset people. She wasn't delusive. Even if he'd started being nicer on occasion, she was still but a means to an end for him. But he was also a means to an end for her as well. She and her family could live comfortably, well fed, well rested, safe… Maybe true love had not been meant for her like she once imagined.

"Well, I'm certainly glad you saw me that day. Otherwise, I'd just be another undervalued, begging strangers for any kindness. At least I have a comfortable bed to lie down in." Yn laughed and closed her fingers around the brooch. "My mother thinks you courted me. I don't know why she'd believe a king would be interested in a street beggar, but I won't correct her. She still believes in true love and fate and all that. Don't have the heart to tell her how it happened. That you selected me out of convenience. A means to an end, if you will."

Harry's brows pulled together. "Is that what you think? That this is all just a show?"

"Is it not?"

"You will be crowned Queen, and you will be my wife, with whom I will produce an heir. That is not a show."

"Maybe not a show. But you said it yourself, a means to an end."

"What were you expecting, Y/n? Love at first sight? Anyone I would have selected would have been the same. But I did not anticipate to find you so alluring. I've grown very fond of you in these weeks."

She swallowed as her skin burned hot. It was most infuriating to her that he could sway her emotions so rapidly. In one beat, she was a disappointing burden, and yet in another, she was fond and alluring.

Even as she sat there, the thin fabric of her chemise covering most of her skin, while she bled into the mattress below her, he meant his words just the same. She was more beautiful and captivating by the day. Lifting his hand up to the curve of her jaw, he let his pupils wander over the features of her face, and he could tell she was nervous.

"What is it, mouse?" he asked in a soft timbre.

She blinked her eyes and looked back up at him, her mouth parted as she paused for a moment to let her irises mesh with his. "Sometimes you're confusing to me. I don't know how to feel when you speak about me. I know you don't love me. I never expected that from you. But I don't think I imagined you'd find me alluring either. Especially right now while I'm painting the mattress under me in red."

He slid his thumb over her cheekbone as he pushed out a breathy laugh.

"Is what I said laughable to you?" she asked, her brow raised.

He grinned. "Yes, your words amuse me. You're quick-witted. Do you think that because you're having your mensus that I would recoil in disgust?"

She nodded. "Yes, in fact. Even my father is repulsed, and he loves me."

Harry shook his head, and she watched his gaze drag down to her bare ankles and then back up to her face. It was almost lewd the way he so brazenly wiped his sight over her frame the way he had. She might as well have been lying there naked.

"I'm not squeamish by a little blood, Y/n. I've sewn limbs and gashed wounds together. I've used my bare hands to stop the bleeding of maimed soldiers more times than I care to count. I saw the most ghastly things when I was leading our royal army not that long ago. Your mensus does not unnerve me in the slightest."

"I see. But even still, it isn't desirable. You cannot tell me you find me alluring in this moment."

"And why not? You are not less beautiful or mouthy because of it. It does not deter my fondness." He grinned.

She had a hard time believing him. But why would he lie to her? He had no reason to try and make her feel better about herself because either way, she wasn't going anywhere.

"Even when I offered myself to you the morning before, you didn't want me, and I wasn't yet bleeding. How can you say these things to me now?"

Harry shifted, his knee pushed into her thigh as he took her face in his hands. "What are you on about? I made it clear my feelings about that. And then I kissed you. Do you not remember any of it?"

Her lashes fluttered as she tried to maintain calm. Of course, she remembered it all. Word for word. And then the kiss… Every brush of his lips and tongue, the way her body washed in heat every time she relived the kiss in her mind. It had changed a part of her, so of course, she hadn't forgotten.

"I remember."

He nodded and let go of her cheeks. She remembered, but did she remember it the way he did? Had he been alone in the way his heart pounded wildly behind his chest, in the way his fingertips burned, and his blood simmered… The way he was breathless when he finally pulled away? For that had never happened to him before, and it marked him so violently that he couldn't think straight all night.

And it had just been a kiss. Was he a fool to let the feel of her warm mouth against his take up so much space in his chest as he had? Even then, he'd wanted to kiss her again to revel in the sensation.

"I can't stop thinking about it. The kiss…" she confessed.

He looked back up at her face, relieved at her words but stricken by his shameful inner thoughts. He couldn't help but feel a kindred madness working its way through his veins.

"Nor can I," Harry replied quietly, almost reluctantly, like an admission passed between the cracks of armour. “The kiss, I can still feel it sitting on my lips.”

His thumb skimmed her bottom lip, light as breath, his eyes fixed there. "The moment I felt your mouth on mine, I knew it was something that would stay with me.” He paused. “And I found myself imagining it over and over.”

Y/n sat still, afraid to breathe too loudly, her heart fluttering rapidly like a mouse, the pulse pumping in her neck.

Harry’s voice dropped lower. “It lingers. The feeling of you. I wasn't prepared to let it sink me to the depths.”

She shivered, her nerves causing her skin to prick, as his words lay gently over her heart. "But you left so quickly after and didn't return to me last night. I know you said you were working, but you made your choice to keep away from me."

“Because I didn’t trust myself last night.” His hand slid to the side of her neck, his thumb pressing lightly into the hollow of her throat. “You offered yourself to me, and I was feeling reckless things. I have spent a lifetime reining in heedless actions. Staying away was best for us both.”

She boldly slid her shaky hand against his leg as his gaze lifted sharply to hers. He hadn't expected it, and in that brief moment, a recognition passed between them; they were two people, human and flawed, no different than the other. Their outward status meant nothing in those seconds that ticked by.

He leaned forward slowly, his nose brushing against hers. “You drive me mad.”

She smiled gently, their lips nearly touching. “You deserve it.”

That earned a brief breath of a laugh from him, more air than sound. And then, before reason could interrupt, before obligation, or her own festering doubts could rise to interfere, Harry kissed her.

It was not like the first time. This one felt impatient, a test of sanity or madness, a sating of curiosity. It was filled with a slow ache that had been building since their first clash of wills. His mouth moved over hers with devastating precision until she pressed her tongue to his, and the precision turned into a starved pace, as though every second he didn’t kiss her was one he could no longer justify.

Y/n’s fingers crept up his hard, solid chest, curling into the soft linen of his shirt as she responded, matching his hunger with a keenness of her own. Her body ached with a desperate need to be touched, to know she mattered to him.

And Harry touched her like she did matter. As if the truth he couldn’t yet speak was being carved into the space between them. His lips opened and closed around hers, his fingers slid gently up her spine to the back of her neck as she moaned into his mouth.

A harsh knock on the door startled them. The king slowly parted from her and turned toward the door. "Who's there?"

Y/n sat forward to watch the door open, and in stepped Harry's assistant, hands clasped behind his back, head lowered. "Your majesty. Forgive my intrusion, but your presence is requested. The Lord Mayor and His Grace, Duke Hughes are here to settle a dispute."

"Send them away. It's far too late to be resolving conflicts, and I have nothing more to say to the Lord Mayor today."

The man nodded shallowly as he kept his eyes turned to the floor. "He said that if you refuse to meet with him, he will report you for theft, assault, and trespassing."

Harry laughed and ran a finger under his nose. "That spineless worm. Fine. Tell him to make himself comfortable in the drawing room. I'll come find him soon."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Fred said as he closed the door behind himself.

Harry moved his hand from hers and fixed his gaze on her pretty eyes. “You should rest.”

“I won’t be able to,” she murmured. “Not after that.”

“After the kiss or the intrusion?"

She smiled shyly and looked down at her lap. "The kiss."

Harry nudged her chin upward to look at him. "Then think of it as a dream.”

She looked at him as he pulled away, her voice barely above a hush. “Did you feel reckless again?”

His soft green eyes scanned hers for a quiet moment. Then, with a final kiss to her brow, he answered, “Maybe.”

With that, he stood, smoothing the front of his waistcoat, his mask of control slowly knitting itself back over his face — but not before she caught the softness still lingering at the corners of his mouth.

“I'll be around to check on you, but I'd better find you fast asleep when I return. And I’ll see to the governess tomorrow.”

He made for the door, and just before exiting, he glanced over his shoulder with a glint of something playful in his eyes. “Rest, little mouse. The devil’s watching over you tonight.”

She pushed a breathy laugh from her lips and watched the edge of his mouth turn upward before he left her alone in her room. The silence around her felt stiff and accusatory, but she quelled the burgeoning shame and guilt that started to rise up in her. Y/n was done with needless worrying about wanting to kiss a handsome man who would soon be her husband. She touched her lips softly, the feel of his mouth engraved on hers.

Perhaps he was the devil but she was beginning to see that maybe the devil wasn't as bad as everyone had said.

. .

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