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simpforhoon · 3 years

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my beautiful person. (p.sh) *ೃ༄

Pairing: soft dom! bad boy!sunghoon x female reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, very slight angst (oral, f receiving, marking, protected sex, use of pet names,)

Word Count: 3k (probably my longest one yet)

Warnings: implication that reader is being bullied, insecurities.

a/n : this is totally not based off that one ask I got hahhahhaha, no but fr I loved it so much and I just had to write this,,,, and just wanted to add, that it is implied that reader is slightly chubby and that’s okay, cause all bodies are beautiful. I love you all sm, mwah<3333 this is set in high school, but all characters are of legal age here! also this isnt proof read oops, and reposted again

synopsis: you were having second thoughts about yourself, and sunghoon wasnt having any of that.

you and sunghoon had been dating for around 6 months now, and to say that the whole school was stunned when you revealed your relationship would be an understatement. no one had expected sunghoon, the school’s notorious so called “bad boy” to date you, the quiet student who sat at the back of the class. you weren’t very studious, but you liked spending time at the library, and your idea of a good weekend was curling up next to the fire with a cup of steaming hot chocolate. sunghoon, on the other hand was the total opposite of you. he would be out at parties almost every weekend with his best friends jay and jake. known for fucking around with multiple girls, he was unattainable. until he met you.

initially, you had rejected all his advances, not wanting to get involved with him, but he grew on you and soon, the two of you started dating. dating him came with its pros and cons. he bought you flowers every week, took you out for drives on his bike late at night, bought you all these cute little gifts, and he never forgot to remind you of just how infatuated he was with you. and of course they had to be cons to dating someone as “popular” as sunghoon. namely, the gaggle of fan girls who tended to follow him wherever he went. when they found out, the hate notes and rumours began. post its stuck to your locker every day, rumours circling around that sunghoon just wanted you for the sex, why he chose you out of all the other students in school, and of course they took a toll on you.

you never told sunghoon though, he always showed up late for school, only staying till the end of the day to drop you home, which ended up in him never finding out about the rumours and notes.

and now we come to the day it all went to shit. you’d arrived to school on time as usual, walking through the hallways, people whispering about whatever new rumour someone had spread about you that day. the only difference today, was a certain park sunghoon leaning against your locker, a single rose in his left hand, frowning at a bunch of post it’s that adorned your locker. realising that he must have come early to school to surprise you, you hurriedly made your way to your locker before quickly ripping the notes off of it. “baby why-” sunghoon began, as you cut him off before he could say anything more “I dont want to talk about it hoon”. you muttered, as you quickly grabbed your books and ran to class.

sunghoon whipped his head around when he felt a tap on his shoulder, only to be met with the smirking face of jeon yeseul, the schools “queen bee”. she was essentially the head of the sunghoon fan club and she’d been after him for years now. no one was angrier than her when the two of you started dating. “whatever you’re gonna say, I dont want to hear it. just leave me and my girlfriend alone” he said throughout gritted teeth as he rushed to the classroom to find you before class started, leaving yeseul in shock, as everyone in the hallway snickered at the little show.

sunghoon took his seat next to you in class, albeit a little too late to talk to you, as the teacher walked in almost right after he did, looking surprised at the fact that sunghoon was actually attending her class. “how nice of you to finally grace us with your presence mr. park” she said, raising an eyebrow and smiling as sunghoon rolled his eyes. his hand found yours under the desk, squeezing it lightly, almost as if he was reassuring you. the class flew by in silence between tbe both of you, his hand never leaving yours even for a second, his worried eyes drifting to your figure hunched over the desk every two minutes. the shrill bell rang as everyone in class gathered their books for the next class. but before you could go to your next class, sunghoon was dragging you away and down the stairs to the back entrance of the school where he had parked his bike.

“hoon what the fuck?? I have class now you know” you said as you stared up at him with fiery eyes. he looked back at you with the exact same expression, one that might have had most people cowering in fear, but not you. “when were you going to tell me about these” he spat out as he pulled a bunch of notes from the pocket of his black jeans, waving them in front of your face. the look in his eyes softened as he saw the way you looked uneasy at the mention of those notes. going off to throw them in the bin, he came back and sighed as he took your hand in his and said softly, “baby you know how much I love you right? please, please don’t listen to whatever those disgusting people are saying, you’re so so beautiful and you’re so perfect for me, and who ever can’t see that can go to hell” reaching up to cup one of your cheeks in his hand. that was all it took for you to crack, small tears welling up in your eyes. he smiled at you, before pulling you into a hug and whispering, “please don’t shut me out, I dont care about what all those rotten people say, all i need is you okay?” “okay” you whispered, your voice slightly hoarse.

he wiped away your tears and handed you a helmet and smirking. “hoon, no we have class” you said trying to walk back to the school building, before he grabbed your waist and hoisted you into his bike, putting the helmet on your head. “not anymore” he said adjusting the straps on it, “you and I are going to go on a long ride before I take you home and help you get ready for the party today”. he finished adjusting the helmet on tour head before tapping it lightly and moving to get his own. “party?? I dont remember agreeing to this” he turned around and smiled at you pulling on his gloves “I just want to show everyone how hot my girlfriend is, now hold on tight princess” and within seconds, the two of you were speeding out of the campus as you squealed and screamed at him for going so fast. all he did was chuckle before going even faster, ignoring your pleas as his heart almost beat out of his chest at the feeling of your arms wrapped so tightly around him. he had never been so glad for the helmet that hid his rosy cheeks. the two of you ended up going all over the city, before getting lunch at a diner and then heading to sunghoons house to pick out his outfit before he took you back to your house to put together your outfit.

you fell face first on your bed, whining about having to dress up and socialise. “but hoooooon, I won’t even know anyone there” you said, rolling up and down your bed as he rummaged around your closet. you looked up when you heard him let out a whistle, only to find him holding up a see through package inside which sat the cute white lacy lingerie set you ordered for yourself a few days ago. you got it on impulse, not knowing if it would actually look good on you, and you didnt have the courage to try it on yet. he smirked as he saw the flustered expression on your face as you scrambled up to try and snatch the package put of his hands. but he stood up and held it above his head, a smile gracing his sharp features as you attempted to jump up and pry it out of his hands. “when were you going to show this to me?” he said cheekily, laughing at the embarrassed mess you’d become.

“never.” you said, stretching out your hand to try and take it from him. sure, the two of you had gotten pretty far in your relationship, but not as far as to have sex. it wasnt like you didn’t want to, you were always afraid he wouldn’t like you, or that he would compare you to some of the more skinnier girls he’d been with. your ex had done the same thing, eventually leaving you for someone else, leaving you with a bunch of insecurities and low self esteem. you were glad to say that you’d built yourself back up, but that same jealous feeling always came back whenever you looked through magazines with all their skinny models, or even the girls at your school.

sunghoon’s gaze faltered the moment you said that, replaced with a look of confusion and a hint of sadness, as he instantly sat you down on your bed and looked you straight in the eye. “but why?” he asked, and you shrugged, not wanting to tell him how you felt, thinking he would find it silly and laugh at you. instead you looked down at your fingers, playing around with them as sunghoon cupped your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. he sighed, before saying, “ I know what you’re thinking of, and how many times do I have to tell you sweetheart? I love you so so much. you’re so beautiful and you’re so fucking sexy. i know some people have said some undermining things about you, but ignore them. in my eyes, you’re the most beautiful person in the world, okay? and better yet, you’re my beautiful person”. you couldnt help the smile that crept up your face at his words, inevitably making him smile too and you pulled him in for a kiss.

“thank you”. “now, will you try this on for me?” he said, the soft smile he had on replaced with a smirk. you rolled your eyes at him, muttering a “fine” before taking the package and walking to the bathroom. the material was soft against your fingers as you slipped off your clothes and undergarments before pulling on the delicate lingerie. sighing at yourself in the mirror, you mentally counted to three and prepared yourself before walking out of the bathroom. “babe?” you called out to sunghoon, and my oh my was he stunned. the moment he saw you, his eyes went wide as he looked you up and down, licking his lips before smiling. getting off the bed, he lead you to the full length mirror in your room, making you stand in front of it as his hands caressed each and every one of your curves.

“you look so pretty baby” he whispered as he pressed wet open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your neck, finding your sweet spot almost instantly as you let out a moan at his actions. quickly spinning the two of you around, he sat down on the bed and pulled you into his lap before resuming his trail down your neck. his found their way to your ass, squeezing the supple flesh, eliciting another moan from you before moving away from your now marked up neck to look at you. “I’m basically half naked and you’re fully clothed, this is so unfair hoon” you said, pushing off the leather jacket he had chosen to wear. he chuckled before pulling you even closer by your waist and mumbling a “patience doll” and attaching his soft lips to yours.

your skin felt so soft under his hands and he couldnt help but try and reach every single part of you, running his hands over every curve and dip, imprinting them in his memory. he pulled his shirt over his head, groaning as you instantly attached your lips to his neck, wanting to mark him up as well. getting off his lap slightly, to allow him to take off his jeans, you let him push you down into your bed. you couldn’t be more thankful that your parents were out of town at this moment as sunghoon slotted his lips with yours.

both of you were naked in almost no time, and sunghoon wasted no time in pressing kisses to every part of your body, mumbling things like “beautiful” and “gorgeous” every now and then. he reached down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, earning a moan from you, as his other hand found your other nipple, squeezing and tugging at it. your back arched off the bed, your crotch pressed up against his as you ground down onto him. he went lower and lower and he was soon face to face with your dripping cunt, not wasting a single moment in diving in, eating you out like a starved man. not even two minutes in, you could feel an unfamiliar knot build up in your stomach before you were gasping. “hoon, I’m close I cant-” not even giving you time to finish your sentence, he pulled away, leaving you breathless. “I want you to cum on my cock” he said, reaching over the bed and pulling out his wallet and a condom packet from it, earning him a weird look from you. “have you been carrying that all this time?”, he shrugged, “never knew when were gonna have sex babe, it’s good to be prepared” reaching up to line himself with your entrance, he intertwined your hands. “it’s your first time right? I’ll be gentle okay? take a deep breath for me love”. he reached down to kiss you as he pushed himself in slowly so as to not cause you too much pain. you groaned at the unfamiliar feeling as sunghoon bottomed himself out inside you.

he was no small man and he was quite a lot to get used to. getting a nod from you, he slowly began thrusting, the pain slowly morphing into pleasure, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his thrusts got faster. “shit hoon, you feel so- so good” you managed to get out as he pushed one of his hands to rub your clit. a number of praises fell from his mouth with each thrust, trying to be as gentle as possible, but at the same time not being able to control himself. “you take me in so well sweetheart, you were made for me, gonna make sure you never think about anyone but me” he said, leaning down to kiss you.

his thrusts got sloppier as he felt you clench around him, a sign that both of you were close. “hoon I’m close, I’m gonna cum, holy shit” you said as he pushed your leg up, thrusting deeper into you. “that’s it sweetheart, cum for me, cum all over my cock” he said and that was all it took for you to unravel cumming all over his cock, as he followed soon after, emptying himself into the condom. he pulled out of you slowly, tossing the condom aside and running to grab a cloth from your bathroom, and gently cleaning you up.

“you up for a shower or do you wanna watch a movie and sleep?” he asked you, brushing a few sweaty strands off your face. “I think a movie sounds good right now” you smiled up at him. grabbing your laptop, he pulled a blanket over tbe two of you, pulling you up to cuddle him as he played a random movie. “what about that party you wanted to go to?” you asked and he smiled down at you “fuck it” he said, stroking your hair. “hoon?” “hm?” “thank you” you whispered. “ for what love?” “everything.” smiling, he played the movie, and soon the two of you were asleep in each others arms.

heyyy, thank you for reading, I hope you liked it!! dont forget to stay hydrated and dont skip your meals!!!!

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jay smut #heeseung smut #jake smut #sunghoon smut #kpop smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines

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soulmate-game · 3 years

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New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

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For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

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Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

#maribat #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic dickinette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat fic #platonic brucinette #older sister Marinette

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thesleepy1 · 3 years

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My King Shall Have Everything

A/N: A fuck load of people seemed to like my last Merthur fic. I even got a request for a sequel from @antobcq who wanted a 5+1 fic where Arthur couldn’t get anything done without Merlin on his lap. I haven’t done one of these fics in ages but I’m down with this prompt. I also love the headcanon where Merlin is a better court member and adviser than Arthur and completely leaves Arthur in the dust during diplomatic meetings. Unbeta’d as always, we die like Arthur.

Extra note, this turned out much longer than I expected it to. This might be my longest fic yet. I didn’t mean for it to be like this but I spent too much time on it to just leave it alone. And much to my surprise, it’s a linear storyline as well. I hope you all enjoy it and feel free to give me some feedback. Do you prefer the linear storylines or short snippets of scenes? Also, kind of sorry for the slight angst. My bad. It got worse towards the end, I was getting really tired and wasn’t completely sure how to end it. It’s not on the highest note is all I’ll say.

Pairings: Merlin x Arthur, slight Gwen x Morgana

Summary: Five times Arthur couldn’t get anything done without Merlin on his lap and one time where Merlin couldn’t get anything done without Arthur on his lap.

Word count: 10,485

Warnings: Lap sitting, fluff, physical touch, sexual content, grinding, angst, wounds, violence, character death, more warnings to be added, more tags to be added, proceed with caution, breeding kink, impregnation kink, mentions of dub/con, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, eugenics, blood, gore, hurt/comfort, angst/comfort, whump, injuries, begging, character death, mentions of public executions, long fic, foul language, asphyxiation, strangulation, choking,

Arthur was good at many things, but being on time was not one of them. Especially, when at the end of the hall he had to attend a council meeting with some of the most stuck up people he had ever met, and that was saying something considering he had to spend the last winter with his extended family. His advisers had been up his ass all week about the new rising kingdom beyond the continent. A kingdom so far away, he had just heard of it several months prior. It was like the kingdom had appeared overnight, suddenly a new ink blotch taking over the lower side of the map.

Personally, he didn’t believe it was real in the first place, having a squadron of knights and hired mercenaries sail over to investigate this so-called Kingdom of Le Lubrique. Much to his disbelief, they didn’t come back empty handed and instead returned with a message. A greeting, as his advisers and Merlin had called it.

To Arthur, it was merely stiff aristocrats getting together in too large a room to talk about dull nonsense. Something he had enough of in his own kingdom. Every other month he was already forced to put on a brave face and converse with the other ruling kings and queens of the continent; he didn’t need another to add on to the mix. He already loathed the balls he was required to host.

“You’re late,” Merlin hissed at him as he entered through a side door so as to not alert the others of his presence.

“That’s kind of the point of me coming here long after the time I was supposed to, Merlin,” Arthur rolled his eyes, sneaking behind the other advisers present to his seat. Merlin begrudgingly followed right on his tail.

“This is serious Arthur, you should have been here ten minutes ago!” Merlin nagged a tad too loudly.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the great king of Camelot himself. I’m delighted to see you have graced us with the honor of your belated attendance,” said an adviser from the guest kingdom with a tone that made Arthur want to stab him, wars be damned.

“I hope you could excuse my tardiness just this once,” Arthur began, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. He looked over to Merlin for help, but the warlock looked clueless as usual. “It...was just that I was caught up with...making sure my...uh...husband’s family were making themselves at home. The in-laws are visiting, you see. You know how hard it can be to keep them happy.”

Merlin looked like he wanted to hang Arthur with his own entrails at the king’s quick thinking. Camelot’s advisers seemed to be considering throwing themselves from the window. And the guest advisers seemed content with Arthur’s answer; though not pleased.

“Oh, believe me,” one of them began, a tall woman with high cheekbones and piercing brown eyes, “I know exactly how tiring in-laws can be.” She let out a high pitched laugh like the sound of dying blue jays; the sound made Arthur want to join his advisers as they inched towards the open windows.

“Well, yes, hahaha, they can be quite a hassle. Especially people that are related to my husband here,” Arthur clapped his hands, smiling at Merlin as he took his seat at the head of the table, “Shall we properly begin then?”

Arthur truly and wholeheartedly regretted agreeing to the whole thing. It was hour after hour of mindless words with little to no meaning. They just went on and on about things that meant little to nothing. He tried to tune out their voices but the tall woman’s laugh was like the crack of a whip, bringing him back to reality each time someone made a vaguely funny comment.

“Are you alright, Arthur?” Merlin said in a hushed tone next to his side. Concern had brought his dark eyebrows together. Arthur was tempted to take his fingers and smooth out Merlin’s worry, but perhaps that was too intimate an act for a meeting. Then again, when did Arthur care about what other people thought of him and his husband.

“I’m fine, Merlin,” Arthur sighed, “Just so bored with all of this.”

“How could you be bored? Have you been listening to half of what they’ve been saying? For a kingdom so small they have so much potential. Their farmlands double ours, as well as their ores, and their medicine is even on par to Gaius’s.” Merlin continued on with such a light in his eyes that Arthur was distracted like a moth to a glowing flame.

“Arthur, have you been listening to what I’ve been saying?”

The king shook his head softly, slightly ashamed for not paying attention to his husband. “I’m sorry. I’m just so distracted. I need something to ground me if I’m going to survive another dreadful hour of this,” he groaned, thinking over if the fall from the window would kill him or lethally wound him. Either way, he’d be away from this horror with Merlin at his bedside playing nurse. At the private thought, an idea crossed his mind that had him delighted.

“You know what would help me?” Arthur began, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“What?” Merlin gave him a suspicious look, having seen the grin on the king many times before.

“It’ll really help if you were on my lap.” Merlin gave him an incredulous glare, ready to smack him across the back of the head for such a suggestion during such a crucial conference. “Please, Merlin? You really do help me focus.”

The warlock seemed to be thinking over Arthur’s request, a frown twisting his face. He looked like he was going to say no, but the pleading look on Arthur’s face made him change his mind. “Just this once. I don’t want to make a habit of this, Arthur,” Merlin warned in a hurried voice.

“Just this once,” Arthur lied through his teeth.

The second king of Camelot sat himself on the first, his side pressed against Arthur’s chest. Arthur wound his arm around Merlin and held him tightly. The action seemed to have garnered the attention of the visitors who looked at the pair strangely. And for some odd reason, the visiting ladies of the guest kingdom seemed to be glaring intently at Merlin.

“We are ever so sorry to be boring you, your majesty, but there is still much to discuss,” a visiting high lord coughed, glaring at the pair. “I apologize that our talk of declining population, racial biases against commoners and sorcerers, and ever so low birth rates have made you tired, but considering it may be the undoing of Le Lubrique, I deem it vital,” he practically snarled.

Arthur’s grip on Merlin tightened, his other hand palming Merlin’s thighs. The warlock couldn’t hide the grin that was stretched across his beautiful face at the touch. The king absolutely loved that grin. Arthur glared right back at those who dared question his behavior, for him showing his love for his king. He sounded in a stern voice that left no room for argument, “No apologies needed. Please, continue.”

“Don’t let us disturb you,” Merlin added with a more snarky tone, commanding the same amount of respect. “You have our full attention.”

-----

“Must I attend? You’ll be there, is that not enough?” Arthur whined as Merlin buttoned up his shirt.

“We are hosting a party in the Kingdom of Le Lubrique’s honor. Their queen has traveled all the way here to properly meet us,” Merlin pressed a kiss to Arthur’s cheek for the effort. “Must I continue?”

“Only if you wish, my dear,” Arthur pointed to his other cheek, waiting for the same treatment as the other.

Merlin rolled his eyes, pressing another kiss to Arthur. “I’m serious, Arthur, this could mean an all out war or the strongest of ally ship. I mean, have you read the reports of what their kingdom is like? It sounds, and excuse for my word choice but there really is no other way to describe it; magical. I would love to visit the country myself. If we make a good impression they might invite us for a stay,” he continued, tying a red handkerchief with Camelot’s crest around his own neck.

“And that’s why the second king of Camelot would be in attendance.”

Merlin left Arthur in their room after that, knowing that Arthur would follow him. “Are you really going to make me sit there and listen to them go on and on about their plan to repopulate their country, or over tax their people for the food that’s in abundance? Come on, Merlin, we could have our council handle it.” Arthur stepped in front of Merlin to block his way. “Why don’t we head back to our room and make this a more entertaining night?” he wiggled his eyebrows to make sure Merlin got his point.

Merlin heard him loud and clear and rightfully ignored Arthur’s attempt to get into his pants. He sidestepped the man to continue on his path, turning a corner to the ballroom. “Do you hear yourself? What kind of impression would that give Le Lubrique if you just suddenly disappeared?!” Arthur turned to run back to their room just to prove Merlin’s point, but the warlock quickly magicked him back to his side. “You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.”

And that was how Arthur ended up sitting on his throne, bored out of his mind and unwilling to be civil or sociable when he could have spent the entire evening snuggled inside Merlin. He could have been in bed by now, having Merlin moaning his name underneath him, but instead Arthur watched as the guest and court mingled and danced. The instrumentalists bobbed their heads in tune to their upbeat song.

Despite refusing to speak to anyone besides Morgana, and Merlin, and occasionally Gwen when she could spare a moment from dancing; he had learned quite a bit about their guests. The fact that although they had a vast amount of farmlands, they had little people to work in them. Which came as a shock to Arthur because he had learned earlier on that Le Lubrique consisted of mostly sorcerers.

Le Lubrique’s queen was the tall woman with a voice that made Arthur’s ears bleed. Her lady in waiting seemed to be a distant relative from their shared trait of high cheekbones, drowning brown eyes, and dark hair. The two were glued at the hip, her lady in waiting obsessively trailing behind her like a newborn duckling wherever they went. They were both strong magic users if Merlin’s gushing was anything to go by. And also very beautiful with fancy perfume that complimented each other so nicely that they smelt like heaven, from Merlin’s words of course, not his. If Arthur didn’t know any better, he would think Merlin fancied them; the queen and her lady in waiting.

Even when the queen was dancing with a number of council members, the servant would be right next to her. It was quite amusing to watch them struggle to sway in time with the music. Arthur had already made bets with Gwen on the number of times party guests would refuse dances with the pair because they refused to separate. So far Arthur was winning.

That was until the queen smugly asked Merlin for a dance. Her lady in waiting immediately stepped away like someone had called for her assistance, leaving the queen alone with Merlin. Much to Arthur’s disappointment, Merlin happily accepted the dance. He took the queen’s hand and off they went, twirling around as if they were the only ones in the room. His hands on her shoulder and waist, her hands virtually tearing his clothes from his chest.

The way the queen of Le Lubrique looked at Merlin made a sick feeling build up from the pit of Arthur’s stomach. She was undressing him with her eyes, the brown in her gaze turning an almost pitch black from lust. The woman said something that made Merlin taken aback, something about dragons and druids, but it was hard to hear from the chatter of the room. For all Arthur knew, it could have very well been a spell.

Merlin recovered quickly with a grin and laugh that had Arthur’s heart skipping a beat. Then the two of them had the audacity to continue dancing as if nothing had happened, the queen still shamelessly pulling at Merlin’s fine clothes that only Arthur was allowed to rip away.

Arthur didn’t know why Merlin didn’t stop the queen when she pulled his handkerchief from his neck. The king was almost killed for even playing with Merlin’s handkerchief and now this woman was doing the same without losing an arm and a leg? Completely unfair. That was proof in itself, she had casted a spell on Merlin.

“Merlin,” Arthur called out to his husband sternly only to be ignored once more. “Merlin,” Arthur stepped away from his throne, making his way towards his husband and the queen.

“I think you should go to bed before things get ugly,” Morgana gently warned Gwen, gesturing towards Arthur’s outburst. “It could either go well or we’ll die of secondhand embarrassment.”

“Thank you for your concern, my love,” Gwen replied with a smirk, “But I want to see how this unfolds.”

Morgana laughed at that, glancing between Arthur and Merlin. “Suit yourself.”

The two high ladies watched as Arthur pulled Merlin away from the queen of Le Lubrique, dragging him away from the woman as she stared on in horror. To Gwen's and Morgana’s surprise, the queen tried to pull Merlin back into her arms. Merlin seemed to be in a daze throughout the whole skirmish. His eyes glazed over, even from afar.

“Should we step in?” Gwen asked with concern, ready to intervene.

“Arthur can handle it, probably.”

The queen called her lady in waiting to help her. Three heads tugged at poor Merlin like he was flax rope at a kingdom fair. The lady in waiting tried to block Arthur from getting a good grip on Merlin while the queen tried to take more of Merlin’s clothes off. A crowd was forming and Morgana distinctively noticed coins being passed around in bets.

“Are you sure, my love?”

“Oh, It's just getting good,” Morgana grinned like a Cheshire cat. “How much are you willing to bet, my beloved?”

Finally, as the crowd began cheering, Arthur twisted out of the lady in waiting’s grip and grabbed hold of Merlin’s waist. The king lifted the warlock up in a bridal carry and turned on his heel for his throne, the crowd parting in heckles and laughs. Arthur blatantly ignored them, sitting down on his throne with Merlin in his lap. Unfortunately, he was unable to retrieve Merlin’s handkerchief, a matter he will surely not hear the end of for quite some time. But between a measly piece of fabric and Merlin’s life, Arthur would choose Merlin time and time again, his own life be damned.

Taking a moment to throw a sneer at Gwen and Morgana who were snickering, Arthur tried to shake Merlin out of the haze. “Are you alright, Merlin?” He stroked Merlin’s arms gently, trying to bring him back to the present. His blue gray eyes were a stormy glaze, seemingly out of it. It made an ugly feeling swirl around in Arthur’s head, the fact that some queen had touched his Merlin in such a way made Arthur sick.

Merlin shuddered in Arthur’s hold, looking down at himself and then at the ballroom floor where others had returned to dancing. Confusion crossed his face, “Of course, I’m alright,” he furrowed his eyebrows, “How did I get here?” Merlin rubbed at his temple, trying to soothe the ache that had formed there.

“Arthur carried you like the jealous brute he is,” Morgana explained, passing Gwen a handful of coins.

“Jealous brute?” Merlin questioned, looking at the trio for a real explanation.

Arthur was about to defend himself when a member of Le Lubrique’s court approached them. “Haha, I couldn’t help but notice the spectacle that you put on there, sire,” the man addressed Merlin.

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow.”

The man laughed again, mirth in his eyes. “I guess you wouldn’t,” he said vaguely, “The queen does have a way with words.”

“What do you mean by that?” Arthur butted in, holding Merlin a tad too tight. Merlin squirmed in Arthur’s lap but Arthur seemed to hardly notice.

“Well, you are a warlock, aren’t you, sire?” the man addressed Merlin once more. Merlin nodded despite himself. “A warlock as well as a dragonlord under the queen’s attention is bound to feel the efforts of her magic. And her special attention for that matter, hahaha.”

“Sorry,” Merlin began, more confused than before. “What do you mean by that expactly?”

“Our queen is a lovely dragon tamer. Her family is the last of their kind. Although taming a dragon is much easier when you have someone who can speak to the creatures,” the man laughed as if telling a joke only he knew the punchline to and walked away as if nothing had happened.

Least to say, the rest of the night Arthur didn’t let Merlin out of his sight. He had no idea what a dragon tamer was and Merlin seemed as lost as he was, but he wasn’t taking any chances. No one was going to “tame” his lover. Whatever that meant. Morgana and Gwen could laugh and call him jealous all they want, Arthur only had Merlin’s best interest at heart.

“I doubt having me be a lap warmer is in my best interest.”

-----

It had been weeks and Arthur naively thought they were done interacting with the kingdom of Le Lubrique. He had hoped to be finished with the rising kingdom, to leave them alone as long as they left him be.

He was rarely fortunate these days. Never even.

Apparently, Merlin was not deterred by almost being kidnapped by the queen and her lady in waiting. Merlin even said he enjoyed their company and their attention to his every breathing word. Arthur loved the man, but sometimes he could be quite an idiot.

Merlin, without Arthur’s knowledge, had invited a member of Le Lubrique’s court to stay at the castle. Who else to volunteer to come to Camelot but the queen’s lady in waiting. She was only supposed to be in the kingdom for a couple of weeks, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. That couple of weeks turned into a couple of months and eventually the woman practically lived there. She had made herself at home on day one, much to Arthur’s dismay. He couldn’t really kick her out without making a bad impression towards her kingdom, despite what her queen had already done.

He was a king. Much to his reluctance, he had to act like it. And that meant acting like you liked people that you hated to the core.

“And these are our forests,” Arthur gestured to the thick wall of trees that signified the beginning of the woods. “I typically take neighboring kings hunting here. If you’re interested, we can go if you’d like.”

Sylvy, the lady in waiting, sat on her horse with her head held high. For someone with a position like her’s, she acted like she was queen herself. Arthur had spent the whole day trying to show her around for the utmost time. She was never satisfied with what he showed her, as if she were looking for a break in the walls of the kingdom.

Every morning she demanded to be taken around on a tour and every afternoon she was left with a deep frown on her face. Nothing made her happy it seemed, and Arthur had truly tried to make her feel at the very least, welcomed. It was just so difficult to do so with the knowledge of what she had done to Merlin. Had enchanted him, put him in a daze of some sort.

If Camelot still had the ban on magic, she would’ve been dead the moment she laid a hand on Merlin. On the crown’s orders, she would have been hung or burned, some form of public execution. Her dark hair would go up in flames as the fire burned higher and higher, her head would hang low as the bucket was kicked out underneath her. Arthur was still considering having her prisoned for what she did and simply explained to her queen that there had been a freak accident. If he were a lesser man, a lesser king, he would’ve done so and let it be a warning.

“I despise hunting as a sport, it’s just mindlessly cruel,” she snarled, her lips curling as a show of disdain. She held the reins to her horse like a vice, afraid that she’d be ripped from the saddle and forced to participate in such barbaric practices. At least, that was what Arthur thought was swimming through her mind.

“Yes, yes, but some like the adrenaline rush of a good hunt,” Arthur explained without real passion, merely a form of continuing the dry conversation. Sylvy had woken him up so early that morning he barely had a chance to give Merlin a goodbye kiss. “Some have to do it to survive.”

“There are other ways to live,” Sylvy began, urging her horse to turn by towards the main part of the kingdom, seeing as they were on the outskirts. “Le Lubrique for one replies solely on farmlands. We have no need for meat or the slaughtering of innocent animals. Everyone can live without such a horrible act; people and sorcerers alike. Meat is simply murder.”

Arthur half heartedly nodded, trailing behind her while trying not to fall off his horse. “I can’t argue with you there.” He didn’t want to argue with about anything her to be truthful, he had had enough of that already.

They traveled at a moderate trot in silence before she spoke up again. “Why haven't you invited me to a council meeting? I’ve been here for ages. Surely you have these sorts of things at least once a month.” She tried to act nonchalantly, but Arthur could see right through her. “I mean, there must be all sorts of things to discuss. An heir to the throne for one, seeing as neither you nor king Merlin can bear children.”

“We just haven’t had any council meetings, nothing interesting to report that couldn’t be done with a quill and parchment is all,” Arthur lied with a fake smile she could not see. “And an heir doesn’t need to be of blood. They just need to be taught how to properly command a kingdom like a fair and just ruler. To know what’s best for a kingdom, who to trust and who to leave behind in the woods.”

A look of abhorrence lingered on Sylvy’s face at Arthur’s words, bothered that he would even say such a thing. But Arthur was right, it didn’t matter if his heir was not his child as long as they were just and fair to all that passed them. Arthur could only imagine what Le Lubrique was like if all their subjects thought the same way Sylvy did. It must be all out war for them if a bastard appeared in court one day; though in reality royal bastards were a dime a dozen.

Sylvy went quiet for a moment, calculating her words while mulling over what Arthur had said. “With a kingdom as large as yours, surely there’s action all around? Suitable women all around. Something worthwhile must have happened during my stay,” her voice took on a tone that Arthur didn’t like, a light flush painting her cheeks like some teenage girl with a crush, “What about king Merlin?”

“What about my husband?”

“What has he been up to?” Sylvy asked indifferently, trying to hide her curiosity from Arthur. If only she would try to hide that damn blush. Merlin was physically attractive, Arthur knew this as an undeniable fact, but to be so unabashed while in front of the man’s husband? What was he? The first king of Camelot reduced to chop liver. Unbelievable!

“Well, he’s the second king of Camelot. A king’s job is never done. There is always more work than one man can handle. I should know, I used to be the one doing all the work.”

They reached town just as Sylvy took on an accusatory tone, “Then what are you doing here?”

Arthur resisted the urge to strangle her in front of so many people. His fists clenched around his reins so hard his knuckles turned ivory. “I’m showing you around, just as you had requested,” Arthur gritted through his teeth, trying so very hard not to glare at her.

“And here I was, hoping to attend a meeting with the second king.”

“Really now?” Arthur could feel the mare under him shuffle on her hooves at his fury. “You know what? There might be one later today.” What he had planned was so unbelievably petty and a tad childish, but at this point, he didn’t give a damn. Sylvy was getting on his last nerve. “I’ll have a servant call you when it’s time. For now, why don’t you explore our lovely town by yourself? Walk around without a king hovering over you and all. That way, I could get back to doing my job.”

Sylvy brightened up in spite of Arthur’s words. A smile was forming on her face, her high cheekbones pushed up even farther. Her brown eyes crinkled at the notion that she’ll be able to see Merlin. “I can’t wait,” she said, unsaddling and handing the reins to her horse to Arthur. “I must get ready,” she said to herself loud enough for Arthur to hear.

“Take all the time you need.”

Arthur would regret those words later that night when he sat among his advisers. Sylvy, their honored guest was over half an hour late and the others were beginning to feel on edge. Many of them were not planned for a meeting so soon after the one they had earlier that week. It was an unprompted get together for the lady in waiting’s sake, Arthur had explained to them.

On days like these Arthur was glad he was king and that there’d be grave consequences if he were murdered by one of his advisers. They would be in the right to do so, kill him that is; but he was hoping to live long enough to raise a couple of children with Merlin.

“Why are we doing this, Arthur?” Merlin asked, hiding a yawn with his hand. While Arthur was riding around the kingdom with Le Lubrique’s queen’s lady in waiting, Merlin was left to run the kingdom by himself. The haunted task of commanding and keeping an eye on so many people was taking its toll on the sorcerer. Merlin hadn’t properly slept in days, too busy keeping the kingdom in one piece.

“Sylvy wanted to be present for a council meeting. As a member of Le Lubrique’s court, we have to answer to her call until her stay is up.” Merlin gave him a look that called Arthur out on his poorly constructed plan. “And I may or may not want her to know that you’re taken.”

Merlin rolled his eyes along with most of the present court. They should all be used to Arthur’s antics at this point. What were they expecting? An honest to god meeting to discuss important topics with their visitor from foreign lands? Never. A fake meeting just so Arthur could flaunt the fact that Merlin loved him and not some conceited queen and her lady in waiting? That was more like it.

“Sometimes I can’t believe I asked you to marry me,” Merlin yawned again, giving Arthur a tired look in more ways than one.

“Feels just like a dream, doesn’t it?”

“More like a nightmare.”

“You love me,” Arthur opened up his arms so Merlin could take his place on the king’s lap. Merlin shook his head at the gesture, so incredibly done with Arthur. “Come on, Merlin. You know you like it here.” He teasingly patted his lap. “You can rest until our guest arrives.”

“Fine,” Merlin said begrudgingly after a moment of hesitation, his mind clouded by the want for sleep. “But you better wake me up when she comes.”

“Of course,” Arthur assured, inviting Merlin over once more. This time Merlin made himself home on Arthur’s lap, his head going to rest on Arthur’s chest. He curled in Arthur’s lap like second nature, having done this so many times over the years. Arthur wrapped his arms around the younger man, making sure he was supported and comfortable. Merlin fit perfectly nonetheless. Within moments, a soft snoring sound could be heard from the man on Arthur’s lap, content in where he sat. The second king finally got the rest he deserved. “I wouldn’t wake you for the world,” Arthur whispered, rubbing soothing circles on Merlin’s arm and leg.

Another half an hour passed achingly slowly without the esteemed lady in waiting’s presence. Arthur was about to call off the whole thing and make his way to his bedchamber when at last, the doors to the room opened to reveal Sylvy. She was no longer dressed in her usual servant attire with its cream apron and blue gray dress. Instead she had ransacked the queen’s wardrobe, wearing something befitting a ball.

The dress was elegant and detailed with silk and satin; a deep shade of bourbon that brought out her brown eyes. Her hand was even done up in cascading dark curls that perfectly fell from the knot atop her head. A glittering wine hair piece sat nestled against her hair, matching perfectly with the studs in her ears. She was beautiful even without the time spent enhancing what was already there, but now she stood ready to rule a kingdom.

Sylvy took her seat across from where Merlin would have sat. “Where is king Merlin?” she asked, not noticing that the man in question was currently sleeping on Arthur’s lap.

“I’m sorry for how unprepared we were, but I can relate to your troubles of not having enough hands to run a kingdom. My husband had taken the task of ruling all alone while I tended to your needs.” Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin’s hair when he stirred in his sleep, continuing on his over sweetened words. “He’s beyond exhausted, but still wanted to take part in our meeting. Please understand that he really did try his best to stay awake.”

The emotions that crossed Sylvy’s face came in a blur; she was unreadable. But one thing was for sure, Arthur had won this small battle. He had shoved Merlin’s unquestionable favor for him in the lady in waiting’s face. Merlin was his and his alone. For good measure Arthur pressed a deep kiss onto Merlin’s lips, the sorcerer smiling in his sleep.

His advisers on the other hand felt cheated. If the death glares shot his way were anything to go by. Though there was one from Sylvy as well. A lot of people wanted him dead at the moment. But he was perfectly happy. They could string him up after the meeting for all he cared, the unintelligible look on Sylvy’s face was worth it. She was utterly speechless.

“I’m ever so sorry we were late to start, but would you like to commence this meeting?” Arthur asked like a gentleman with a cocky grin, making sure to stare right at Le Lubrique’s envoy.

-----

When Sylvy left Arthur rejoiced. She was finally out of his hair. Things could go back to normal and he could go back to spending his free time with Merlin instead of on horseback through a bare orchard. No matter how many times Arthur explained to Sylvy that their crops were not aided by magic like Le Lubrique’s, Sylvy insisted on seeing their “mortal” development.

Everything was put back into its rightful place. He couldn’t wait to put everything about Le Lubrique behind him and move on.

He was back on the throne with Merlin, leading the kingdom just as they were before the whole ordeal with Le Lubrique. Their advisers especially liked the fact that Arthur was back with Merlin; it meant less work for them. The moment that Sylvy left their grounds, Camelot’s advisers piled parchment after novel after demands on his table.

Those selfish bastards.

The so-called requests were so thick that Merlin didn’t even make a sarcastic comment comparing it to Arthur’s ass, and, or his thick skull; the warlock simply went to work. If Arthur himself wasn’t already terrified of the workload, he would have shocked himself to the grave at Merlin’s willingness to submit to their advisers. The two kings of Camelot knew when they met their match.

What felt like weeks passed where Arthur and Merlin did nothing but what their advisers ordered. They were slaves to their own court. The two didn’t leave their room for anything, not food, not training, not even a breath of fresh air. Their knights would occasionally knock on their door to make sure they were both still alive, but once the knights of the round table had been turned down a couple dozen times, they stopped caring. Merlin and Arthur shut off the world. They were practically locked in there, all because of their own doing.

Well, mostly Merlin’s doing. He was the one who invited the envoy over and wanted to make peace with the new kingdom. Arthur had nothing to do with that prolonged visit from the devil, he was only paying the price. His hands ached like it had been shorn off at the wrists, his back screaming for him to rest. He didn’t remember the last time he touched his bed, the neatly tucked in linens calling him to slumber. But he couldn’t, neither of them could until their work was done. Their kingdom depended on it and their kingdom came first, Arthur and Merlin’s comfort second. They both knew what they had signed up for when they decided to wed.

“A-Arthur,” Merlin groaned late one night, the sun mere minutes from the horizon.

Arthur immediately looked up from his book, putting his full attention on Merlin who was on the other side of the room. Neither of them had talked in days besides the few grunts they exchanged while passing over important text. The fact that Merlin was straining his voice now meant something serious was going on.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur coughed, his throat parched and dry as a desert.

“I-I-” Merlin began, rubbing harshly at his hurt eyes, “I think that’s the last one.” The sorcerer signed one more parchment with a flick of his wrist, setting it aside to dry along with the rest.

And the thing was, Merlin was right. There was no more work to go through, to tirelessly read; everything was finally done. “I’m so tired I don’t think I can see straight, b-but that was it!”

“What?”

“We’re finished, you clophole," Merlin smiled, taking Arthur’s breath away.

Arthur leapt out of his seat, pure joy masking the aches and pains as he rushed over to Merlin’s side. The king pulled the sorcerer from his chair, lifting the man into the air, Arthur kissed Merlin like it was their wedding day. Deep and full of all the longing he had for the man, grasping at him as if he could protect Merlin from the world.

He only pulled back for air, inhaling lungfuls before pressing his lips back against Merlin’s. Arthur missed his husband so damn much despite having worked across the room for each other. He hadn’t touched the other man in ages, it was heaven to feel his heartbeat beneath his pained fingers. To kiss down Merlin’s pale neck and mark him until the whole castle knew exactly what they had been up to. To pull at Merlin’s clothes, ripping his tunic right off of his chest, the buttons flying across the room.

“Arthur,” Merlin moaned, gently pushing Arthur back so he could speak. “I liked that shirt.”

Arthur thumbed at Merlin’s trousers, holding his hips tight enough to leave marks that Merlin would feel for days to come. “I’ll get you a new one.”

“But my mother made me that one,” Merlin complained, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s neck. His strong hand went to cup Arthur’s cheek, making the king look at him. Forcing the king to calm down and evaluate things. “We have to get something to eat too, dear,” Merlin told Arthur in a loving tone. “We’re both too exhausted for this.”

“I’m never too tired for you,” Arthur bit back, leaning into Merlin’s hand. He may have been putting his weight on Merlin’s desk so as to not fall over, but Merlin didn’t need to know that. Arthur could most definitely ravage Merlin while on the brink of death.

Merlin pulled Arthur close to kiss him softly, “If we go to bed now, then we can spend all of next day together,” Merlin tried to bargain, eyes teary from lack of any sort of sleep. “You’re going to hurt yourself, you ass,” he chuckled with a small smile that made his eyes crinkle with mirth.

“I don’t want to,” Arthur whined, “I’ve worked for weeks on end. Now I want my reward for behaving.” Arthur sat back on Merlin’s desk, pulling the man on top of him. The desk groaned under their combined weight, but Arthur hardly cared when he had Merlin on his lap and straddling his thighs. “You’re all I want.” He embraced Merlin, the warlock half naked and moaning as Arthur kissed along his arm. His mouth sucked at Merlin’s skin, teeth leaving markings on pale skin claiming Merlin as his. Arthur worshiped Merlin until his stormy eyes were hazy with unabated lust.

“Just you….”

Arthur slumped forward, out like a dying candle before he even knew it. Merlin had to stifle a laugh, though he doubted anything would wake Arthur then. The king was out cold, snoring like there was no tomorrow. Too bad Merlin had to carry his fat ass over to their bed. The warlock was beginning to rethink their plans for tomorrow. Sometimes he wished Arthur wasn’t such a stubborn ass and listened to him. It would save them both the trouble, Merlin was right most of the time after all.

“Get some rest, you oaf,” Merlin said to the asleep man, tucking him into their bed. Arthur’s blonde hair was like a halo against their stark white pillow, the dark bags underneath his eyes a contrast with the paleness of his skin. His old tunic was a dull red from overuse, the buttons holding onto the fabric for dear life. Merlin stripped Arthur of his boats and stuffy tunic leaving both men in their trousers. A much better way to sleep if anyone asked.

“Good night, Arthur,” Merlin whispered into Arthur’s ear, snuggling up against the king. He threw the blankets over himself and laid on Arthur’s chest. The pull of sleep had Merlin out just as quickly, the moment he allowed his breath to even out, there was nothing that would stop him from getting the well earned sleep that he so needed.

“Rest well, Merlin,” Arthur answered in a murmur, pulling Merlin in close. “Sweet dreams, you idiot.”

-----

“Arthur, calm down and try to see reason!” Merlin all but yelled at the king without his crown. The man in question was in his knight gear, armor and chainmail strapped tightly to his body for protection. His sword hung to his side, within reach at all times. Arthur could feel something ominous looming on the horizon, it was Merlin who was still seeing the world with rose colored glasses.

“I tried to see reason. I tried to play nice. And this is what I get in return,” Arthur gestured to the pile of charred wood on the round table. Wood that was once the homes of innocent farmers who played no part in the altercations of royals. People that Arthur was supposed to protect, their livelihoods and homes included. “We were nothing but good to them and this is what happened. Dozens of houses burned to nothing overnight!”

“We have to act now, Merlin.”

“Going in there with your swords raised in offence isn’t going to do anything but start an all out war,” Merlin insisted, urging Arthur to reel himself in, to not lash out at the closest thing. If it were anyone else Merlin would have already smacked them over the head for raising their voice at him. Unfortunately, Merlin was sleeping with the man and didn’t want to be smothered in his sleep. “That’s what Le Lubrique wants; a reason to fight. We can’t give them that.”

“Then what exactly do you expect us to do, Merlin?” Gwen piped in across the table from Merlin. Morgana stood to her side, eyes darting between all the speakers in a frenzy. “They attacked first. It’s only right that we return what they have given us.” Gwen picked up a piece of wood, charcoal rubbing off on her hands as she turned it over. “Arthur is right, we just can’t sit idle.”

Merlin stared at Gwen, hoping that she would be on his side on this. She solemnly shook her head, denying her friend’s offer. Gwen wanted to go on the offence just as much as Arthur, her friends were harmed when Le Lubrique’s soldiers set fire to a section of the kingdom. They burned down acres of farmland, dozens of homes with children and elderly. Luckily, nobody was killed in the process but many were harmed. Gwen wanted vengeance for them. She was a loyal ruler, loyal to her people.

“And we won’t,” Merlin bargained, “We won’t let them gain any more than they already have. No one here knows exactly what they want from us, but we do know that they’re willing to play dirty to get it,” he went on, talking with his hands to release some of the tension. “Let me be a spy and-”

“Absolutely not.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“No,” Arthur said firmly, daring Merlin to argue. “You stay right here with me. I will not have you risking your life for measly information.”

“It's not measly information, Arthur. It could be the difference between thousands dead and a simple treaty. We don’t know what Le Lubrique wants, but if we do, we could try to bargain with them. No blood needs to be shed,” Merlin tried, laying a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, forcing the man to look at him. “The queen wants me. She made that very clear. She won’t hurt me if she thinks I’m on her side.”

Arthur stared at Merlin, watching the sorcerer for any sign of hesitation. When he saw nothing of the sort Arthur sat down in his chair with a huff. Merlin really wanted to do this. Spy work is equal to a as rushing in with their flag flying and swords shining; both could end with Merlin buried six feet under. Even the implication had Arthur feeling like hell.

“How am I supposed to get anything done with you gone?” Arthur questioned genuinely, much to the snickers of the knights and ladies. “I can’t function without you,” this was whispered softly to Merlin, just for Merlin.

The anger and stress dissipated from Merlin’s eyes, his shoulders slacked in resignation. Realization slowly but surely dawned on the sorcerer. Arthur was simply afraid. The first king of Camelot was worried, on the brink of tears from it if anyone looked close enough. Merlin rolled his eyes, even after all these years Arthur was still undoubtedly the same.

Without a care for the other people in the room, Merlin sat down on Arthur’s lap, hands on the other’s chest to stabilize himself. Merlin leaned in close and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s lips, cradling his jaw like it was something breakable. “Everything will be alright, Arthur. I can protect myself just fine,” Merlin reassured in a careful voice, stroking Arthur’s cheek. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“I always feel empty without you, Merlin." Arthur pulled Merlin in for another kiss, this one deeper than the last. The two only pulled away for air and even then they went back for more. They couldn’t have enough of the other, constantly needing to feel the other person. A give and take only the other could provide. “What am I supposed to do if you don’t return?” Arthur asked quietly, resting his forehead on Merlin’s. “How am I supposed to live?”

“I promise to you, you’ll never have to find out. You’re stuck with me," Merlin smirked, running his fingers through Arthur’s hair. "Till death do us part, darling.”

Arthur wished he could believe Merlin’s promise. He swore on his mother’s grave that if Merlin fulfilled his promise that he’ll listen to everything Merlin has to say. He’ll never question Merlin again, never talk back to the warlock, shove his stubbornness down and never speak of it again. Arthur would have done anything for Merlin, only the man asked.

Not a month later Arthur received news in the form of a messenger. Le Lubrique had declared war on any who dared try to take the last living dragonlord from them. Merlin was theirs, they stated, the dragonlord belonged to dragon tamers. The two are vital for the continuation of dragons in the old religion. One to gain their trust, the other to keep the creatures in chains where they belong. Any and all who tried to take away their dragonlord would be faced with lethal consequences.

At that Arthur sent the messenger to be put into the stocks. Lethal consequences. Arthur will show them just how deadly he could be. Le Lubrique will pay, a month without Merlin was torture but if they dared to lay a hand on Merlin they would all burn. Gwen was absolutely right, Arthur required vengeance, he wanted them all to feel just what angering Camelot will do, what angering him will do.

And after making such a claim over Merlin’s life, Arthur will show them no mercy. Le Lubrique had declared war on Camelot and Arthur would answer tenfold.

------

It took around two weeks for Arthur to prepare for battle against a kingdom full of sorcerers. Another week was spent traveling with his soldiers over land and sea. Through it all he couldn’t help but be eaten alive by the nagging feeling that he was too late. That he would arrive only to find ash; bones if he was lucky. Day and night he was slowly being killed by the fact that he could very well be walking into his husband’s grave.

“He’s going to be okay,” Morgana reassured him one day as he leaned against the railing of their ship. They were perhaps an hour if not less from shore and Arthur hadn’t slept a wink. He could feel exhaustion mixing with the worry brewing in his mind, ready to overflow at a single inconvenience. His sword was once again at his side, the memory making everything so much worse. “Merlin will be teasing you for worrying so much if he were here.”

“But he isn’t, is he, Morgana?” Arthur said more harshly than he intended. “He could already be dead for all we know.” And it would be all Arthur’s fault, though he kept that notion to himself. By the look on Morgana’s face, she must have been thinking the same thing.

“It's not your fault, Arthur. Merlin chose to go on his own free will.”

“But I was the one who allowed it,” Arthur bit back, standing straight on his feet. “I sent him to his death.”

“You don’t know that,” Morgana crossed her arms. She should be used to Arthur’s self destructive behavior but even this was getting too much for her. “If what that messenger said was true, Merlin’s probably being pampered to death.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to have said because Arthur’s despair did not lighten. It seemed to have gotten worse. “What if he likes it better with Le Lubrique’s court? I’m no warlock, I can’t compete with their magic!”

“Arthur, you’re overthinking this,” Morgana was done with Arthur’s antics. She was ready to gag him and throw him in the ship’s makeshift prison cell until they had properly docked. “Merlin will run right into your arms the moment he sees you. I’m willing to bet on it, just you wait and see. Merlin loves-”

At Morgana’s silence, Arthur looked over to the direction of her gaze. Their ship was making speed but Arthur suddenly wished they had stopped right where they were and sink. The sight took Arthur’s breath away, making his blood go cold. Le Lubrique was burning and it looked like it had been burning for a very long time. There was no shoreside to speak of, just endless flickering flames. Where the castle should have been standing tall like a beacon was nothing but flames, ruble, and ash.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled even though his voice would not carry that far. “Merlin!” he called again, his heart sinking to his stomach. He wanted to drown at sea. He never wanted to reach the shore, to be lost in the ocean and never have to face what he already knew was there. The absence of what he knew should’ve been. “Merlin!” he shouted even though it was futile.

“Arthur, please!” Morgana struggled to pull him back from the side, afraid he’ll jump and swim the rest of the way himself. Or worse. “Just an hour, please. That’s all you have to wait for. You- you don’t know for sure.” Even Morgana was not so sure of her words, the picture in front of them was hard to paint as lies.

“I sent him to his death….” Arthur whimpered, “I killed him. I killed my husband.” The king sank to his knees, kneeling next to Morgana. The woman could barely hide the tears in her eyes at the sight. Everything she wanted to say, every reassurance died on her tongue. Whatever she said could very well be a lie and nothing more.

“We will make them pay, Arthur. We will make them pay for what they’ve done,” Morgana decided instead, pulling Arthur to his feet. “They won’t get away with this,” she stated sternly, much like their father when he had set his mind to something.

Less than an hour passed where the tension was so thick, one could slice through it with an unsharpened sword. All on board prepared for battle, despite the fact that the fires never stopped burning. Regardless of the fact that they might be too late to be of much good. The fighting had already begun long before they docked, a civil war where the same flag was flying on opposite sides.

“Go search for what is left, we’ll handle everything else,” Gwen informed Arthur when they stepped foot on the raging battlefield. She was dressed in chainmail armor just like everyone else, Camelot’s colors making her blend in with the searing fires. Her helmet was covering most of her face, giving her the appearance of a frightening soldier ready to take lives at a moment's notice. If Arthur was in a better mood, he would have been sorry for the folks who would come face to face with Gwen, the quick footed soldier instead of Gwen, the gentle, kind hearted high lady. At the moment he was on the verge of breaking and was ever so glad that Gwen was as cut throat as she was.

“Thank you,” Arthur told her from the bottom of his heart, “We should have listened to you from the start.”

“You followed your husband’s request, I can’t fault you for that.” She pulled Arthur in for a hug before sending him off. “Go find our king.”

Gwen didn’t have to tell Arthur twice, he was off before she finished speaking. The only thing is his mind was finding and holding Merlin. Nothing else mattered. Not the war thriving around him, swords clashing, arrows flying, Camelot’s red against the duality of Le Lubrique’s purples; nothing. The sorcerer was all that was worth living for and Arthur had a guess as to where Merlin would be.

The castle with Le Lubrique’s flag flapping against the blistering wind was as good as any place to start. Arthur climbed the hill that the palace stood on with lead in his stomach. It felt like every step he took he was merely walking into a trap. The castle should not still be in one piece, the battles around the structure should have made it no more than debris. However, it still stood on weak support.

Going against the nagging voice in the back of his head Arthur called out for his husband, “Merlin!” He walked closer to what would have been the courtyard. Around the perimeter were burning shrubbery that must have been a sight to behold at one point in time. Now there were nothing more than flares and the source of black smoke. The cobblestone center was stained with a drying red that Arthur did not want to face the source of. “Merlin!” Arthur sounded out in the courtyard.

“Arthur,” a hoarse voice groaned weakly. Arthur ran in the direction it came from, his sense of self preservation be damned. Merlin’s life could be on the line.

“Merlin, stay with me. Keep talking!”

“I-I’m over here,” Merlin hissed out helpfully, not informing Arthur where, “here” exactly was. Why did Arthur have to marry such a buffoon? Sure, no one could compare to Merlin, but at the very least he could have courted a smarter man.

“I’m coming, just stay where you are,” Arthur said hastily, rushing through the crumbling courtyard. “Don’t you dare die on me, I’ll kill you myself if you do!” he threatened, searching every nook and cranny for the warlock.

“That’s my line, you ass,” Merlin moaned in complaint, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Come up with your own catchphrases.”

Sometimes Arthur couldn’t believe his choice in a partner. Merlin was really making banter with him while possibly on the brink of death. He was definitely going to kill Merlin for this. “Make me, you bastard,” Arthur cursed, rounding a sharp corner that fell apart as he passed it. His breath was taken away for the second time that day when he saw Merlin on the ground.

They were in what must have been a parlor, the stained glass windows shattered on the ground as a number of the fine furniture burned to cinder. Arthur could imagine the room as something beautiful if he were to be invited over for tea. Now he just saw it as a smoking mess, something that he was glad was going up in flames. Though, without him or Merlin in it would be nice.

“There you are!” Arthur exclaimed, rushing over and kneeling on the floor next to Merlin’s frame. The sorcerer was half naked with sharp nail marks littered across his pale skin. Merlin’s neck was a raring red as if a hand had been wrapped around his throat which didn’t let up until he passed out from the lack of air. His form was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and tears, his rib cage stuck out in unpleasant angles. It looked like he hadn’t been fed in days. The sight made Arthur furious, but Le Lubrique’s court could wait. Arthur had to get Merlin to safety first.

“Took you long enough, you oaf,” Merlin hissed through his teeth, his lips chapped from dehydration. The corner of his mouth was bleeding as if he had been back handed across the face. Arthur reached out a hand to touch it, to make sure Merlin was real and not just some illusion made by a sick sorcerer. “Stop that, it already hurts to talk,” Merlin coughed, his eyes hazy.

“What happened?” Arthur couldn’t help but ask, shrugging off his cape to throw over Merlin’s bare chest. It didn’t offer much coverage but it was protection against the flying embers. As a bonus it covered the markings that made Arthur’s skin crawl.

“I arrived under the guise of an envoy, just as we had planned. Everything seemed to be going fine, but they found out I was a spy early on. It was like they could read my mind, and I don’t doubt that they have the knowledge just for the spell,” Merlin explained, pulling Arthur’s cape close, the soft fabric offering a sense of shelter. “But they didn’t seem to care that I was there under ulterior motives. They were only glad to have me, mind and body,” Merlin shivered at the thought. “Le Lubrique’s queen wanted me to father her children.”

Merlin paused to let the thought sink in. He watched Arthur for his reaction. Arthur’s face twisted in a disgusted sneer, baring his teeth at the implication. The king clenched his fists until his nails dug deep enough into his palm to drag blood. Arthur wanted to feel the pain, something to ground him farther so he didn’t march off to kill someone who might already be dead.

“Le Lubrique wanted dragons as slaves, no king would be dumb enough to go to war with a kingdom with dragons on their side; no matter its size,” Merlin went on, his eyes glowing yellow at the notion. “They needed me as a stud.”

Arthur was repulsed at the notion that Le Lubrique would even conceive of such a thing. He must have looked ready to vomit because Merlin quickly added, “Le Lubrique’s queen even tried to make herself appealing to me when I denied her advances.” Arthur could only imagine what the woman did. Sylvy’s antics immediately came to mind. “She magicked her hair blonde and made her eyes your shade of blue.”

Arthur couldn’t help but darkly chuckle at that. Of all the ways to make Merlin fall for someone, blonde hair and blue eyes weren’t it. “Did she really think looking like me would get you to bed her?”

“No,” Merlin began again with a pained yelp that he tried to hide. “What she said was what made me comply.”

“What did she say?” Arthur growled, his earlier fury seeping back into his bloodstream. “What did that harlot say?”

“She threatened your life, Arthur. Your honor, your dignity, and reign as king. Everything,” Merlin got teary eyed at the memory. “The way she took her pleasure from me was painful, but it was nothing compared to the thought of what she said she would have done to you.”

Arthur was shaking with rage, his whole body trembled with the urge to tear Le Lubrique’s queen apart, limb by limb by his own bare hands. His hand hovered over his sword subconsciously. He wanted to kill her, needed to destroy her for what she’s done. For the fear she incited into Merlin. Arthur was bloodthirsty; he hoped that Gwen was just as demanding of blood.

“I wanted to kill her.” Merlin’s quivering voice brought Arthur back to the present. “Let me kill her, Arthur,” Merlin begged his husband, his lip beginning to bleed.

“Of course,” Arthur wiped Merlin’s tears away with his thumb, his hand caressing Merlin’s cheek gently. “Anything you want, I’ll give it to you in a heartbeat.”

“Now, Arthur. I want to kill her now.” Merlin tried to sit up but the cry of pain had him falling right back to where he was. “She deserves to suffer.” His eyes lit up in a gold light, trying to magic his way upright but failed and fell down once more. The warlock’s body was in a worse state than he appeared, he shook in a cold sweat like an infection induced fever.

When Merlin began coughing fistfuls of blood at the strain Arthur was forced to act quickly. The king straddled Merlin’s legs, sitting down on his lap to keep Merlin on the ground. “Shhh, I’m here, Merlin. I’m safe, I’m alive,” Arthur barricaded Merlin with his arms. “I’ll bring you her head, I swear.”

“Let me do it, Arthur. I can kill her myself,” Merlin barked, another fit of coughs had him squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’ll bring her to you, alive. You can do anything you want with her court,” Arthur tried a different approach, tears forming in his eyes at the sight of Merlin in this state. “You can make her pay for what she’s done, make her feel the same pain. But please, Merlin,” Arthur begged, stroking Merlin’s face as tears fell on the man’s face. “Stay with me. Keep talking.”

Merlin opened his eyes at Arthur’s request, pain painting them a disorientating blue. “It hurts, Arthur. She did so, so many horrible things,” Merlin admitted in the burning parlor room. He reached out angry scarred arms to wrap around Arthur, pulling the king flush against his chest. “Everything aches, it feels like I’m being burned alive.” Merlin had Arthur in a death grip, there was barely enough room for either of them to breathe. It felt like home.

“They will pay, this I swear,” Arthur made an oath, kissing Merlin to make it true. “By the end of this day their bodies will be put on display for all to see.” He kissed down Merlin’s neck, burying Le Lubrique’s queen’s markings with his own. “Do you want her kingdom as well, Merlin? Say the word and it's yours.”

“I want you. I want her gone. I want her kingdom. I want it all,” Merlin’s mind was spinning with searing fever, screaming pain, and the constant pleasure of Arthur licking at his throat. He squeezed Arthur’s neck with his shaking arms. “Give me everything.”

In a burning parlor of a dying country with a queen and court that abandoned it, the first king of Camelot made a vow to the second king; an apology and a promise. Everything the licking fire was eating, everything destroyed by its own queen; the country, and the sea that surrounded it. The never ending farmlands, the people that survived, and the bones that would be buried by ash of its own making. The entire kingdom; dead, dying, or thriving. All of it would be Merlin’s.

All of it is Merlin’s.

“My king shall have everything.”

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snifflesthemouse · 3 years

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Why isn’t the second-born of the second-born listed on the Royal website’s Line of Succession Page? Still yet?

Hello and Good Day! I hope this post finds you all well, happy, and healthy. As for this author, please rest assured my silence has nothing to do with the content of this space and everything to do with personal preferences. In other words, I have been absent simply because I wanted to take a break from it all. During this break, there have been plenty of things worthy of discussion.

However, many of those discussions are discussions we’ve already had before, long before the press decided to make it officially newsworthy. It would seem the news and media are slow to catch onto what we’ve ALL known for quite some time. For example, we all knew the couple were planning money moves and business dealings long before the official “We quit!” announcements. We already knew, long before the news started discussing it, that the couple were trying to monetize their links to the Royal Family. And we all already knew that bullying claims and horror stories existed long before any official third-party investigations. This post will focus on the big question(s) of late: Why hasn’t the second-born of the second-born been added to the official Royal Family Line of Succession list?

The Royal Line of Succession (found here: https://www.royal.uk/succession) still suggests the second-born of the second-born is not in the official line. This could all very well be a big misunderstanding. Occam would suggest the simplest solution is the correct solution, right? So, the simplest solution would be that IT (or the responsible party for managing changes to the Royal UK website) hasn’t got around to making the changes to the Line of Succession.

According to the Mirror, (article link: https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/royal-familys-website-yet-add-24565116) updates or changes to the line of succession page can vary. It took 12 days for HRH The Prince Louis of Cambridge to be added. It took 15 days for Master Archie Mountbatten-Windsor to be added. Master August Philip Hawke Brooksbank was added to the official line of succession page 61 days after his arrival. The article didn’t mention how long it took after Master Lucas Tindall was born for his name to be added to the page.

The important fact, though, IS that both August and Lucas are on the list. Neither child has been christened in the Church of England. August’s christening had to be rescheduled. Lucas’s christening has yet to be scheduled or announced. It is worth noting, however, that Zara Tindall is not a working royal. Her first two children, Mia and Lena, were both christened at St. Nicholas’s Church in Gloucestershire several months after they were born. Both christenings were privately held with Her Majesty the Queen present. The godparents weren’t made public, either; yet it is known Prince Harry was named as one of the godparents for Lena.

It has been suggested Zara and Mike will follow suit with Lucas and hold a private christening at St. Nicholas’s Church in the near future. Some even suggest it will be around Christmastime when they do so, and that the Queen will be present for the christening. The Queen was suspected to attend the christening for August at Windsor before the worldwide bug caused the event to be rescheduled. The point of all this is that being christened has NOTHING to do with being added to the line of succession. We can see that is true since Lucas and August are yet to be christened.

According to Tatler, (article found here: https://www.tatler.com/article/surrogacy-and-peerages-legal-issues-family-law-marchioness-of-bath) titles and succession rights rely on the terms of the original grant. When it comes to the line of succession for the Royal Family, the royal.uk website explains clearly what requirements must be met for someone to hold a spot in line. These requirements have changed very little over the centuries. For someone to be in the line of succession, they must be legitimate-born Protestant descendants of the Princess Sofia, Electress of Hanover. Before the law changed, male descendants took precedent over females. Children born AFTER 28 October 2011 no longer adhere to the male-preference.

When the laws changed, with them also changed who needed consent from the Sovereign to marry. The updated laws stated only the first six in line to the throne needed Sovereign consent to marry. The law also changed the rules against descendants marrying Roman Catholics. Now, a descendant of Princess Sofia can keep their spot in the line of succession if they marry a Roman Catholic. When one thinks about it, it would seem like Her Majesty could predict the future.

The changes to the law essentially made sure that any female children of Prince William’s wouldn’t be knocked out of place. It also ensured Prince Harry would have to get permission to marry. However, nothing much else changed regarding the rules. So, any child added to the line of succession still needed to be a descendant of the Princess Sofia, Electress of Hanover. They had to be Protestant (only the Monarch need to be in communion with the Church of England), and they had to be legitimate. What exactly dictates legitimate, though?

Legitimacy requires the children be born to married Protestant parents, one of which who also descend from Princess Sofia. Therefore, children born out of wedlock are ineligible. Children born of surrogacy, regardless of the type of surrogacy used, are treated like adopted children. Adopted children are ineligible for the line of succession. Which brings us to the next point.

Master Archie Mountbatten-Windsor is in the line of succession. This tells us that he is a legitimate heir to the line of succession. So, he was born to married Protestant parents, one of which is a direct descendant of the Princess Sofia. Now, I’ve seen the theories regarding Archie. That’s a hot button topic for many. But the fact remains he is in the line of succession. There are several unanswered questions surrounding his birth. As I’ve mentioned before, the easel announcement had to have been created specifically for his birth since the document format was entirely different. No lines were even placed because there were never going to be any signatures.

If Archie were born with the use of a surrogate, it would mean one (or more) of the following:

1. The Royal Family either knew from the get-go and facilitated a cover-up

2. The Royal Family didn’t (or doesn’t still) know anything is amiss

3. The Royal Family learned about the surrogacy AFTER the fact, and the decision to leave Archie in the line of succession was a strong-armed, forced decision put upon the Royal Family

a. If this is the case, it would mean nobody saw #6 or his wife in private, behind the scenes to notice something was amiss

b. The Royal Family DID see the duo and caught on, deciding to distance themselves from the whole ordeal

c. It would also suggest Megxit was more about them saving face and ridding themselves of the deceitful duo now residing in Montecito.

4. The Deceitful Duo lied and deceived everyone, kept a distance from everyone, and used their “rift” with the other Royals as an excuse to keep them at bay.

Think about it. Buckingham Palace botched the announcements. First, they announced the couple were in labor in the afternoon, even though Archie was born early on that morning. The birth announcement/easel wasn’t signed, and it was entirely changed to fit the situation. Then, there was that questionable tweet from Kensington. Coupled with the alleged statement from the alleged Doctor’s husband that his wife did not deliver the child.

Now, either Archie’s mother saw an opportunity to fuel rumors, speculation, a family rift, etc. and decided to purposely make everything mysterious to drum up drama and attention. Or… the truth is there is a coverup at play. We may never know. But it does speak volumes to how things are playing out now with their second child.

Their second child was born in California on 4 June. There are already stories making the rounds regarding the second-born. First, it was #6 demanded a private christening at Windsor with the Queen in attendance. Then, it was #6 was supposed to acquire the baptismal gown and bring it back to California, so the child could be baptized stateside. Allegedly, the Queen said, “NO, NO, and NO!” to all of the demands (i.e. private Windsor ceremony, borrowing the gown, etc.).

New Idea reported the gossip (article found here: https://www.newidea.com.au/lilibet-christening). Saying all those “No’s!” enraged the couple, so they are banning Royals from the christening and having their own private ceremony stateside. Potentially, even having a Roman Catholic christening. That would end up being the perfect coverup…

If they decided on a Roman Catholic christening, they know it would force the second-born out of her spot in line. It would also become the scapegoat excuse. They could say the cruel Royals forced their hand, in turn forcing them to forfeit their second child’s spot in line. The same couple obsessed with the titles, who also denounce needing titles to serve since service is universal, would have the perfect excuse. Nobody would question it further (in their own minds, anyway).

But all that is speculation. Let’s look at facts. Facts state that a child must be legitimately born to a descendant of the Princess Sofia and baptized as Protestant. That is all. The disqualifiers are being born out of wedlock, being adopted, or being born of a surrogacy (again, regardless of the type of surrogacy). Children born of surrogacy are treated as adopted children. A child could be 100% conceived from both married parents’ gametes (meaning the child was conceived using both parents’ egg and sperm) but carried by a gestational surrogate… AND STILL be disqualified from succession rights. The law sees it that the surrogate carrying the genetic child of the married Protestant parents breaks the chain of descent. These are the facts of law.

So, whether the omission of the latest Montecito Mansion addition is a snub, the result of someone in a tech department somewhere failing to get around to changing the official webpage, or legitimate, we may never know for certain. Who knows? Maybe time will prove us all wrong, and the omission will be amended on the website. What we do know for certain, however, is being christened isn’t a prerequisite. This is true because, as of today right now, 2 of the 22 names on the line of succession are not christened. Prince Louis wasn’t christened within 12 days of his name being added, either. Nor was Archie christened within those 15 days of being added.

And remember… a DNA test would only prove whether a child is genetically its parents. A DNA test doesn’t prove whether the child is born naturally, via c-section, surrogate, or anything else. DNA only declares biological relations. It declares the “who” but not the “how”.

I’ve listed several websites that I have pulled information from below for anyone interested.

It’s also worth a look to see how much the Montecito Muppets try so hard to copy Zara and Mike Tindall. You see, Zara and Mike Tindall didn’t do a formal photo call for the birth of any of their children. No pictures on the steps of the hospitals. Mia (the oldest of Zara and Mike’s children) was introduced to the world via a photo spread with Hello Magazine. The couple chose to do the photo shoot, as well as being on the cover of the magazine, because they felt people wanted it. They did the shoot as World-Class athletes, not as Royals. Lena was introduced in an advert for Land Rover’s all-terrain pram. The announcements for Lucas (both the pregnancy announcement and the birthing announcement) were made by Mike on a Rugby podcast.

Zara and Mike Tindall, being non-working Royals, must make their own money. They have no titles. Their children have no titles. They have no Sovereign Grant money. They have no Royal Protection Officers protecting them 24/7 either. Their children were christened in private, and the godparents weren’t made public. Well, except Prince Harry was named as Lena’s godparent. He was married at the time of Lena’s christening. His wife was pregnant at the time, too. One wonders if the wife was also named as a godparent. One also wonders if the wife got the idea of half-in-half-out from seeing how successful The Princess Royale’s children have been in life sans titles.

It’s like they saw these hard-working people who happened to be related to the Monarch, who just so happened to be of Royal blood and descent. Who didn’t have to answer to the public as much as senior “working Royals” because they didn’t take tax dollars. But the truth is, they can never have what they envy so much about The Princess Royal’s children. They lack the talent, skill, grace, and understanding that The Princess Royal instilled in her children. That’s why they constantly depend on “bombshells” for attention and revenues. But that itself is a discussion all its own…

ARTICLES FOR YOUR INTEREST AND CURIOSITY:

https://www.express.co.uk/news/royal/1415464/zara-tindall-princess-eugenie-royal-baby-news-christening-tradition-evg

https://www.gloucestershirelive.co.uk/news/celebs-tv/inside-two-cotswold-churches-fit-5544053

https://www.mirror.co.uk/3am/celebrity-news/royal-baby-christening-traditions-gowns-24301504

https://celebrity.land/en/royal-fans-should-prepare-to-wait-for-glimpse-of-princess-annes-first-grandson-lucas-tindall/

https://www.express.co.uk/news/royal/1462070/zara-tindall-news-mike-tindall-lucas-mia-lena-royal-baby-talk-interview-royal-family-spt

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-9777651/Princess-Eugenie-forced-cancel-Windsor-christening-son-August-following-Covid-scare.html

https://www.history.com/topics/british-history/royal-succession

https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/2013/20/enacted

https://www.royal.uk/succession

https://www.tatler.com/article/surrogacy-and-peerages-legal-issues-family-law-marchioness-of-bath

https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/cambridge-law-journal/article/abs/significance-of-status-and-genetics-in-succession-to-titles-honours-dignities-and-coats-of-arms-making-the-case-for-reform/3B2FBB705EEFCE82E04E80002D4D486A

https://www.thejournal.ie/royal-inheritance-succession-explained-701049-Dec2012/

https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/royal-familys-website-yet-add-24565116

#line of succession #megxit #yankeewally #legality #why

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melisa-may-taylor72 · 3 years

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QUEEN BEFORE QUEEN

THE 1960s RECORDINGS

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PART 4:

THE OPPOSITION

JOHN DEACON WAS THE QUIETEST MEMBER OF A MIDLAND-BASED FIVE-PIECE WHOSE GREATEST AMBITION WAS TO PLAY ANOTHER GIG.

Initial research John S. Stuart. Additional research and text: Andy Davis.

John Deacon was the fourth and final member to join Queen. He became part of that regal household 25 years ago this month, enrolling as the band’s permanent bassist in February 1971. His acceptance marked the culmination of a six-year ‘career’ in music, much of which he spent in an amateur, Leicestershire covers band called the Opposition.

From 1965 until 1969, Deacon and his schoolmates ploughed a humble, local furrow in and around their Midlands hometown, reflecting the decade’s mercurial moodswing with a series of names, images and styles of music. The most remarkable fact about the Opposition was just how unremarkable the group actually was.

Collectively, they were an unambitious crew: undertaking precisely no trips down to London to woo A&R men; winning only one notable support slot for the army of chart bands who visited Leicester in the ‘60s (opening for Reperata & the Delrons in Melton Mowbray in 1968); and managing even to miss out on the option of sending a demo tape to any of the nation’s record labels. The band’s saving grace is its solé recorded legacy: a three-track acetate — although even this was done for purely private consumption, and has rarely been aired outside the confines of their inner circle.

It is perhaps indicative of the Opposition’s modest outlook that their most promising bid for stardom, a beat contest, was called off before they had the chance to play in the finals. For John Deacon and friends, it seems, merely being in a band was reward enough.

Considering of all of this, it’s easy to imagine the response to the following story, related in the ‘60s to one of the Opposition’s guitarists, Ronald Chester:...[ ]

...[ ] “There was a teacher who worked at Beauchamp School, which John attended, who told fortunes. They went to see her one Saturday and were told, ‘John Deacon is going to be world famous and very, very rich. Of course, they all fell about laughing. She was determined that this was going to happen. But they all thought it was a joke."

What particularly amused Deacon’s colleagues was the unlikeliness of this scenario, given the plain facts of his demeanour. John was born in Leicester in 1951, the product of affluent, middle-class, middle England. As a youngster, he was known to his friends as ‘Deaks’ and grew up to be quiet and reserved, what Mark Hodkinson referred to in ‘Queen — ‘The Early Years’ as “a ghost of a boy".

“He is basically shy,” confirms Richard Young, the Opposition’s first guitarist/vocalist, and later keyboardist. “I suppose he was quieter than the rest of us — but he was fairly static with Queen if you look at him on stage.”

Ron Chester agrees: “John was quiet by nature. His sister, Julie, was the same. Once he got going, though, he wasn’t any different from anybody else. But on first approach, you really had to coax him out of his shell. We’d have to pick him up. He couldn’t walk down the road to meet us."

CONFIDENT

Despite any lack of personal dynamics, Deacon was a capable teenager: “He was very confident," recalls another of the band’s guitarists, David Williams. “But in a laidback sort of way. He didn’t have a problem with anything. ‘Yeah, I can do that’, he’d say. We used to call him ‘Easy Deacon’, not because of any sexual preferences, but because he’d say something was easy without it sounding big-headed. I remember saying to him once, I’m going to have to knock off the gigs a bit to revise for my ‘A’ levels. What about you?’ ‘No’, he said, ‘I don’t need to. I’ve never failed an exam yet, and I’ve never revised for one’. Ultimately, he was just confident, with a phenomenally logical mind. If he couldn’t remember something, he could work it out. And, of course, he got stunning results.”

John’s earliest interest was electronics, which he studied into adulthood. He also went fishing, trainspotting even, with his father. Then music took over. After dispensing with a ‘Tommy Steele’ toy guitar, John used the proceeds from his paper round to buy his first proper instrument, an acoustic, when he was about twelve. An early musical collaborator was a school mate called Roger Ogden, who like Roger Taylor down in Cornwall, was nicknamed ‘Splodge’. But his best friend was the Opposition’s future drummer, Nigel Bullen.

“I’d first got to know John at Langmore Junior School in Oadby, just outside Leicester, in either 1957 or 1958,’' recalls Nigel. “We were both the quiet ones. We started playing music together at Gartree High School, when we were about thirteen. We were inspired by the Beatles — they made everybody want to be in a group. John was originally going to be the band’s electrician, as he called it. He used to build his own radios, before we had any amps, and he fathomed a way of plugging his guitar into his reel-to-reel tape recorder. He was always the electrical boffin."

The prime mover in the formation of the group was another Oadby boy they met on nearby Uplands Park, Richard Young. “Richard was at boarding school," recalls Nigel Bullen. “He was always the kid with the expensive bike. He played guitar, and what’s more had a proper electric, with an amplifier. He instigated getting the band together. Initially, we rehearsed in my garage, and then anywhere we could. John played rhythm to begin with. He was a chord man, the John Lennon of the group, if you like."

SWITCH

Despite his later switch to the bass, Deacon’s technique on the guitar also developed, as Dave Williams reveals: “Later on, I remember he could play ‘Classical Gas’ on an acoustic, which was a finger-picking execise and no mean feat. It’s a bit like ‘McArthur Park’, a fantastic piece of music, and when I heard it, I thought, ‘Bloody hell. You dark horse!’ Because he never showed off."

The Opposition’s first bassist was another school friend of John’s called Clive Castledine. In fact, the group made its debut at a party at Castledine’s ouse on 25th September, 1965 (their first public performance took place the...[ ]

...[ ] following month at Gartree’s school hall). Clive looked good and appreciated the kudos of being in a group, but he wasn’t up to even the Opposition’s schoolboy standards. “I was the least proficient, to put it mildly,” he admitted to Mark Hodkinson.“His enthusiasm was 100%,” adds Richard Young, “but his actual playing ability was null, so we had a meeting and got rid of him.” Deacon took over, initially playing on his regular guitar, using the bottom strings. “John was good,” Young continues. “It was no problem for him to switch to bass. He hit the right notes at the beginning of the bar, and we were a better band for it. Whereas Clive made us sound woolly, as anyone who just plonked away on any old note would, John was solid.”

DIARY

Young turned out to be the Opposition’s archivist, keeping a diary of each gig played, the equipment used, and the amounts of money earned (as indeed did John Deacon). Richard’s diary documented the day Deacon — now, of course, bassist in one of the world’s most famous groups — first picked up his chosen instrument. “In an entry for 2nd April, 1966,” says Young, “it reads, ‘We threw Clive out on the Saturday afternoon. Had a practice in Deaks’ kitchen, and Deaks went on bass. Played much better.’ John didn’t have a bass, so we went down to Cox’s music shop in King Street in Leicester, and bought him an EKO bass for £60. I paid for it, but I think he paid me back eventually.”

“John’s bass style with the Opposition was the same as with Queen,” reckons Nigel Bullen. “He never used to play with a plectrum, which was unusual, but with his fingers, which meant that his right hand is drooped over the top of the guitar. Also, he plays in an upward fashion, which I’d never seen before, certainly when we were in Leicester. Over the years, I’ve watched many bass players adopt that style. I’d say he has been copied a lot. I’ve mentioned this to him, but he doesn’t agree.”

Clive Castledine wasn’t the last member of the band to be dismissed. “The vocal and lead guitar side of the Opposition was changing all the while,” recalls Nigel. “Myself, John, and Richard Young were always there — as were Dave Williams and Ron Chester later on — but we had a succession of other musicians who I can hardly remember now. There was a guy called Richard Frew in the very early days, and a young lad called Carl, but he didn’t fit in. After we began playing proper gigs, Richard decided he wasn’t happy with his singing and wanted to move onto keyboards, so we brought in Pete Bart (formerly with another local band, the Rapids Rave) as a guitarist and vocalist. He was good, but again, didn’t last long.”

“Bart was a bit of a rocker, while we were all mods,” remarks Dave Williams. “We were impressed by mod bands like the Small Faces and the original Who. Bart seemed to come from a different era altogether.”

“Deaks had the Parka with the fur collar,” remembers Ron Chester. “And short hair, a crew cut. Mirrors on his scooter.” Richard Young agrees: “John was more of a mod than us. But you couldn’t really pigeonhole the band, because our music went right across the board”.

”Buying Deacon his bass was no one-off, and Richard Young is remembered as the group’s benefactor. Being older than the others, he had a steady job working for his father’s electronics company in Leicester, which brought him a regular, and by all accounts, generous wage. He rarely thought twice before splashing out on equipment for the other members.

RECEIPTS

“Richard bought me a P.A.,” recalls David Williams. “But he didn’t ask, he used to think that the group needed it. He’d buy it and then say, ‘You owe me this’. My mum used to get really annoyed. She’d was at that going- through-my-pockets stage, probably looking for contraceptives. She once found a receipt from Moore and Stanworth’s, a local music shop. It was for a Beyer microphone, which cost about £30. I was still at school, getting pocket money, and my mum said, ‘What on earth is this?!’ Receipts on the Sunday dinner table, that sort of thing. It was good, though. The group needed it.”

“I was dead serious about the band,” claims Young, who switched to organ with the arrival of Williams in July 1966. “Perhaps more so than anybody else. I could see it going nowhere if money wasn’t pumped into it.”

“Dick Young was an accomplished organ player,” adds Dave, “and he improved the group quite a lot. He always had plenty of dosh, and a car. But he was totally mad, a crazy bloke. He’d come round with an organ one week, then next week, he’d have a better one. He ended up with a Farfisa, with one keyboard on it, then one with two keyboards — one above the other. Then he had a Hammond, an L 100. which was really heavy. Then he had a ‘B’ series one. The ‘L’ was top-of-the-range and he sawed it in half to make it easier to carry!”

Dave Williams helped to improve the group as well. “He was at school with us,” says Nigel Bullen, “but in another band, who we always looked up to.” That band was the Leeds-based Outer Limits (who went on to issue several singles — without Dave — in the late ‘60s). “I joined the Opposition after they asked me to watch them and tell them what I thought,” recounts Dave. “The Outer Limits were older lads, all mods, but I was after something a bit more easy going, and the Opposition were my own age. They were okay, but I first saw them at John’s house, when they were still practising in bedrooms, and they were absolutely awful. I said, ‘Have you thought of tuning up?’ They said they had. But it sounded like they were playing in different keys — totally horrendous. It was so funny. They were so conscientious, they’d all learned their bits, but hadn't tuned up to each other. That was my first tip.”

“Our first proper gig was supporting a local band, the Rapids Rave, at Enderby Coop Hall,” recalls Nigel Bullen. “They used to play at this village hall every week. and then we ended up doing it every week for quite some time.” Richard’s diary records the Opposition’s debut taking place on 4th December 1965, and that the band’s fee was £2. Thereafter, they began to offer their Services in the local ‘Oadby & Wigston Advertiser’, which led to bookings in youth clubs and village halls in local hot-spots like Kibworth, Houghton-on- the-Hill, Thurlaston and Great Glen.

SCHOOL WORK

By spring 1966, the Opposition were playing every weekend, school work permitting. The peaks and troughs of their career are illustrated by the following memorable gigs: one at St. George’s Ballroom, Hinckley, on 23rd June 1967, when just two people turned up and the band went home after a couple of numbers; and a September appearance in a series of shows at U.S. Airforce Bases in the Midlands, at which they were required to play for four-and-half hours with just two twenty-minute breaks. It was nothing if not diverse.

“It didn’t seem to matter what you played,” says Dave. “People would clap simply because you were making music. They never said, ‘Do you do Motown, or soul stuff?’ ” The band’s repertoire initially consisted of chart sounds and the poppier end of the R&B spectrum. “Although we were inspired by the Beatles, we never did any of their songs,” claims Nigel. “But we covered the Kinks, the Yardbirds, and things like Them’s ‘Gloria’, and the Zombies’ ‘She’s Not There’.

They also altered their name slightly to the New Opposition, which they unveiled at the Enderby Coop Hall. “The name-change was decided overnight, when John moved from rhythm to bass guitar,” recounts Richard, whose diary records the date of the transition as 29th April 1966. Interestingly, though, it makes no mention of another local group also called the Opposition, long thought to have been the reason for Deacon’s crew adopting the ‘New’. The change did act as an impetus for further development, however, instigated by Dave Williams, who soon took over as the group’s lead vocalist.

“When I joined they were doing all Beach Boys stuff,” he recalls, “and I think I may have brought in a little credibility. In the Outer Limits, I’d been playing John Mayall, the Yardbirds, that sort of thing, plus that group was into really good soul like the Impressions, and fantastic vocal bands from the States. So I had a broad musical knowledge by then, whereas the Opposition had been a bit poppy.” Appropriately, the words “Tamla” and “Soul” were now added to the Opposition’s ads and calling cards.

Towards the end of 1966, the New Opposition were enhanced further by the arrival of Ron Chester, who’d previously played with Dave Williams in the Outer Limits, as well as in an earlier band, the Deerstalkers. “Ron Chester was a bit eccentric,” claims Richard Young. “He never used to go anywhere without his deerstalker. He was a really good guitarist (“stunning”, adds Dave Williams). We were probably at our best when Ron was in the band.”

On 23rd October 1966, the New Opposition entered the local Midland Beat Contest. They won their heat, landing themselves a place in the semifinals on 29th January 1967. They won this, too, and steeled themselves for the finals, which were due to be held on 3rd March 1967, when they were to be pitched against...[ ]

...[ ] an act called Keny. The stars of the show would have been the nearest the Opposition came to having a rival: an outfit called Legay. (A year later, incidentally, this band issued a now collectable single, “No One” (Fontana TF 904,£80J.) Unfortunately, for all concerned, however, the contest never took place. “That was a fiasco,'' laughs Ron. “Somehow we won those heats, but in fact, I don’t remember seeing anybody else playing. I don’t know whether we won by default or not. After that, they pulled the plug on the competition — probably because they knew we’d be playing again!”.

CASINO

“The heats took place in a club in Leicester called the Casino, which was the place to play,” adds Nigel. “The guy who ran the competition was an agent for the club. His company was called Penguin (or P.S) Promotions and he walked like a penguin too, with his feet sticking out. The final was going to be held in the De Montford Hall, which is still the main venue in Leicester. We thought, ‘Crumbs, this is it, perhaps we might make the big time.’ But the guy did a runner with all the money — people had to pay to come to the heats. So the final was called off.”

David Williams wasn’t too fussed, as he scored another prize that night: “I remember taking a girl back to Dick’s car on the strength of us winning our heat. I said, ‘Can I borrow your keys, Dick? He said, ‘What for? You can’t drive!’ “

Were the New Opposition — or the Opposition, as they dropped the ‘New’ again in early 1967 — left in limbo by the cancellation of the Beat Contest? Having achieved the most public recognition of their talents so far, were they disappointed with the loss of the chance to prove themselves further?

“No. It was almost insignificant,” reckons Ron. “We didn’t really look upon it as a stairway to stardom.” And what would John Deacon have thought? “Nothing really,” suggests Chester. “ ‘It’s cancelled. What are we doing next, then?’ That would have been about the depth of it. We were a village band, all gathering at the church hall to try and improve our abilities. The financial aspect of it wasn’t in the forefront of our minds. We were more concerned with our music, and if we could get a booking doing it as well, to pay off some of the equipment, then that was a real bonus. Three bookings a week was enough for us while we were working or still at school.” Despite any dodgy dealings, history does have the Penguin promoter to thank for the only professionally-taken photograph of the Opposition. (“We didn’t go much on photos in the band,” remembers Dave Williams.) On Tuesday, 31st January 1967, two days after winning the semi-finals, the ‘Leicester Mercury’ dispatched a staff photographer over to Richard Young’s parents’ house in Oadby. Here, the group lined-up in the front room, looking more like refugees from 1964, rather than 1967. The only indications of the actual date are perhaps Ron Chester’s deerstalker hat and the ridiculous length of David Williams’ shirt collars — seven inches, no less, from neck to nipple.

“Dave was very extrovert,” recalls Nigel. “But we all had those silk shirts with the great long collars made by our mums and grandmas for our stage gear.” Dave admits: “Our clothes were all a bit mixed up. We had silk shirts with tweed jackets — which were fashionable for a while — and bell-bottoms. Musically, we were pretty good, better than...[ ]

...[ ] most of the local bands around that time, but we had this squeaky-clean, schoolboy image which let us down. I used to get frustrated when we were billed with other bands, and they’d all play with so many wrong chords but had a better image and still the punters applauded. Were they stupid? We were still at school — we didn’t leave until we were eighteen — and weren’t allowed to grow our hair long”.

“After the mod thing,” he continues, “long hair became really important. Bands were growing their hair right down their backs. I remember getting to one gig with John and Nigel a year or so later, and the other group were already on. And when they saw us they turned round and said, ‘Look! They’ve got no hair!’. We were quite upset about that”.

“We also went through the flower-power look,” Dave adds. “And then we got into those little jumpers without any sleeves that Paul McCartney used to wear, the ones so small that half your stomach showed. And then it was grandad shirts without the collars and flares.” Ron Chester: “The flowery shirts and flared trousers were everywhere. We looked like a right shower of poofters. But so did everybody else. You stood out if you didn’t wear them.”

1967 also heralded the arrival of an additional attraction to the Opposition’s stage show: two go-go dancers. At least, it did if the existing literature on the subject is to be believed. “I vaguely remember it,” admits Richard, “but speaking to Nig, neither of us can recal who those dancers were”.

Dave Williams throws some light on the subject: “They were the jet-set girls of the sixth form, they came from the big houses. They came to a couple of gigs and just started dancing. Somebody who booked us for the following week actually advertised us ‘with go-go girls’. But they were never really part of the show.”

ART

On 16th March, 1968 for a gig at Gartree School, the Opposition changed their name once again. “We called ourselves Art,” reveals Nigel, “because Dave was arty, that is, he was training as an artist. It was as simple as that.” Dave agrees: “It was my idea, because I’d been doing art at school.” Nigel Bullen was aware of another band using that name around the same time (the pre-Spooky Tooth outfit), but assuming them to be American, reckoned they’d be no confusion. As the Leicester-based Art never made it to London, there wasn’t.

Despite wording like “A time to touch and feel, to taste and experience, to hear and understand” appearing on the group’s tickets, Richard maintains that Art was “just the same band” as before. “Nothing changed."

“It was mutton dressed up as lamb, really,” admits Ron Chester. “We thought if we were called something different, people might come because they were curious. But it didn’t make a lot of difference. The audiences were captive at the places we played anyway. There was nowhere else to go on a Friday or Saturday night. Everyone used to roll up to see whoever was on, whether they’d heard of them or not.”

1968 was the year psychedelia caught up with many provincial British bands. The Art were no different, but their acknowledgement of what had been last year’s scene in London was via sight rather than sound. Their light shows seem to have been particularly memorable, as Dave Williams explains: “They were brilliant. We used the projectors from school, filled medicine bottles with water and oil, and projected through them to get this lovely golden, amber backdrop. As the image came out upside down, when we poured in some Fairy Liquid, it dropped straight through in a blob, but came out on the wall like a giant green mushroom cloud. It was amazing, and we had about four of them at the back, projecting over the band.”

John Deacon was party to another of Dave’s exploits. “One day,” recalls Williams, “John and I bought a 100-watt P.A. — which was pretty big for those days — and took it into the lecture theatre full of kids at Beauchamp School (which Deacon had attended since September 1966) for our version of Arthur Brown’s ‘Fire’. We cranked it up as loud as we could, put the light show on, and let off these smoke bombs, which were DDT pellets we’d got from the chemist. All the kids started choking, and then the headmaster walked in...[ ]

...[ ] with a load of governors. You could see the fury in his face. One of the governors asked what we were doing. ‘It’s a demonstration in sound and light, sir,’ I said. ‘We’re using these ink bottles turned upside down, but we’re a bit worried about these DDT pellets so we might knock the smoke on the head, but we’re still experimenting.’ And he fell for it!”.

INFLUENTIAL

Towards the end of 1968, a crop of new groups began to have a profound effect on the maturing schoolboys: Jethro Tull, the Nice, Taste, and in particular Deep Purple. Ron: “We used to buy Purple records and learn to play them. We’d seen John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers and the Downliners’ Sect in Leicester, the Nice, King Crimson. These sort of groups. We learned a lot from just watching them. They were influential. There was always a big discussion in the band as to whether we should do a particular song. Once we’d decided that, there’d be another big discussion as to how we should do it. Everybody had their say.”

Hair, too, had finally began to grow: “John grew his quite long,” recalls Ron. “We all had longish hair, but not shoulder length. We couldn’t look too unkempt for the normal side of life, but we didn’t want to be too prissy for the other end of the spectrum. That was when we started playing universities, and we went a bit heavier. The audiences were far more serious minded about music and more enthusiastic. In some of the youth clubs we’d been playing, the audience would be moving around on roller skates, or peeling bananas all over the place, things like that”.

“We felt we were making an impression towards the last year or two of the band,” he continues. But it went no further: “We were at school, some of us had jobs, and there was an element of common sense overriding what we would have liked to have done. None of us wanted to chuck in our apprenticeships or courses. If we’d had a flair for writing our own material, we might have taken off. But we just played what was popular, nothing different from most other groups. That wasn’t a basis on which to launch ourselves. So it never happened."

“We didn’t think that far ahead,” admits Richard Young. “I just thought of playing and getting repeat bookings. John was probably the least ambitious of all of us, to be honest. I think he felt that there was no mileage in what we were doing, although it was good fun. I think he had the impression that this was a hobby, a phase he was going through.”

Sometime in the Sixties, possibly 1969, but maybe earlier, Art recorded an acetate. Whatever the date, the crucial point is that John Deacon was present at the session. “We weren't asked to do it,” recalls Nigel. “We just wanted to make a disc. I think it cost us about five shillings.”

The venue was Beck’s studio, thirty miles south east of Oadby in Wellingborough, Northamptonshire. “I’d never been in a studio before and it seemed awesome, really,” recalls Dave Williams. “It was a fairly decent-sized room for acoustics. It was all nicely low-lit, with lots of screens. The guy knew what he was doing.” Richard Young was less impressed, though: I’ve been in studios all my life,” he says. “That was just another session. Nothing about it stood out.”

The “guy” Dave remembered was engineer Derek Tomkins, who informed the group that they could record three tracks in the time allotted. “We’d only gone in there with two, ‘Sunny’ and ‘Vehicle’,” says Nigel, “and we didn’t want to waste the opportunity, so Richard knocked up a little instrumental called Transit 3’ — named after our new van, the third one — right there in the studio. Although we were purely a covers band, everybody had a bash at writing, but we never did anything of our own on stage. The exception was Transit 3’, which was incorporated into the set after this session.”

“ Transit 3’ was about about the only track we ever wrote," reckons Richard Young (“Heart Full Of Soul”, as reported in ‘As It Began’, is in fact a Graham Gouldman nurnber). “I initially had the idea, but I can’t really remember anything about it. It’s very basic. It wouldn’t take a great deal of effort to write something like that.” To the objective observer, “Transit 3”, taped in mono but well recorded, is a fairly uncomplicated, organ-led scale- hopper, reminiscent of Booker T & the MGs.

“Everybody was listening to ‘Green Onions’,” confirms Nigel, “so Booker T would have been an influence there.” But for all that, it’s well- played, with memorable lead and twangy, wah-wah guitar passages courtesy of Dave Williams. And, crucially, John Deacon’s thumping bass is plainly audible throughout. On this evidence, the Opposition were clearly a tight, confident outfit. “Transit 3” could have been incorporated into any swinging ‘60s film soundtrack, and no one would have jumped up shouting, “Amateurs”!.

UNFAMILIAR

The other two tracks, covers of Bobby Hebb’s ‘Sunny' and the more obscure, soul- tinged ‘Vehicle’ (later a hit for the Ides of March), featured a vocalist, but an unfamiliar one: another of the Opposition’s fleeting frontmen. “We had a singer for a while called Alan Brown,” recalls Nigel. “He came and went fairly quickly. He was good, really good. Too good for us, I think. That wasn’t him saying that. We just knew it.”

On both songs, Brown is in deep, soulful voice, sounding not unlike a cross between Tom Jones and the early Van Morrison — if such an amalgam can be imagined. The Art’s reading of “Vehicle” is edgy and robust, dominated by Richard Young’s distinctive keyboards and Nigel Bullen’s bustling drum work. Dave Williams is again in fine form, delivering more sparkling wah-wah guitar, while on the cassette copy taped from Nigel Bullen’s acetate, at least, John’s bass is very prominent, over-recorded in fact, booming in the mix.

“Sunny” goes one better, breaking into jazzy 3/4 time halfway through, before slotting back into the more traditional 4/4. It’s an imaginative arrangement, with alternate soloing from both Dave and Richard, while the whole track is underpinned by swirls of Hammond organ and John Deacon’s pounding bass.

“We did ‘Sunny’ as part of our stage set,” says Nigel, “but I don’t recall us ever going into the jazzy bit. That’s quite interesting. We might have talked about that before we went into the studio, but I think it was just for this session. Dave had two guitars, a six-string and a twelve-string, or it could even have been twin-necked. I still quite like the wah-wah he played on that track. By this time Richard would have been onto his second or third organ — he was heavily into Hammonds and Leslies."

Operating as they did in a fairly ambition- free zone, and having prepared the listener for a mundane set of recordings with their trademark laid-back approach, Art’s acetate comes as something of a revelation. Let any bunch of today’s schoolboys loose in a studio for an afternoon and defy them to come up with something half as good!

Just two copies of the Art disc are known to have survived. John Deacon’s mother is believed to own one and Nigel Bullen has the other. “I’d forgotten all about this record,” admits Nigel. “We know that one copy was converted to an ashtray!. We stubbed out cigarettes on Richards at rehearsal one night.” Although treated with anything but respect at the time, the importance of the disc is now apparent to Nigel Bullen: “This is probably John Deacon’s first recording, apart from tracks he did in his bedroom on his reel-to-...[ ]

...[ ] reel, which are probably long gone. Although, knowing John, they’re probably not!”

The beginning of the end for Art came in June 1969, when John Deacon left Beauchamp. With a college course lined up in London, his days with the band were obviously numbered. He played his final gig with the group on 29th August at a familiar venue, Great Glen Youth and Sports Centre Club. By October, he’d moved to London to study electronics at Chelsea College of Technology, part of the University of London.

Another blow was dealt in November, when the band's lynchpin, Richard Young, left to join popular local musician Steve Fearn in Fearn’s Brass Foundry.

“They were a Blood, Sweat and Tears-type of group,” recalls Richard, “and paid better money than I’d been used to. I was out five nights a week, on about £3 per night, against an average of about £10 between us.” The previous year, Richard had played session keyboards on the Foundry’s two Decca singles: “Don’t Change It” (F 12721, January 1968, £10) and “Now I Taste The Tears” (F 12835. September 1968, £8).

SAVAGE

Ron Chester departed shortly afterwards, and gave up music: “I left in the early 70s, after John Deacon moved to London. John was replaced by a bass player was called John Savage, who unsettled me. He had different tastes and drove us a bit hard. His approach was totally different from Deaks's, and he was much more interested in the financial side of things. We’d all been mates before, we didn't just knock about for the band. It just wasn’t the same.”

Nigel, Richard and Dave pushed on into 1970 with the new bassist, changing the band’s name again, this time to Silky Way. They returned to Beck’s studio to record a cover of Free’s “Loosen Up” with another vocalist, Bill Gardener, but that was the band’s last effort. Dave left after falling into Nigel’s drumkit, drunk on stage at a private party one Christmas. “I waited for them to pick me up the next day,” he recalls sheepishly, “but they never carne.”

Richard and Nigel moved into a dinner- dance type outfit called the Lady Jane Trio — “Corny, or what!”, laughs Bullen — but Nigel left music altogether soon afterwards to concentrate on his college work. Richard turned professional, moving into cabaret with the Steve Fearn-less Brass Foundry, before forming a trio called Rio, finding regular work on the holiday camp and overseas cruise circuit. In the late ‘70s, he joined a touring version of the Love Affair.

Down in London, John Deacon caught a glimpse of his future world-beating musical partners as early as October 1970, when he saw the newly-formed Queen perform at College of Estate Management in Kensington. “They were all dressed in black, and the lights were very dim too,” he told Jim Jenkins and Jacky Gunn in ‘As It Began’, “All I could really see were four shadowy figures. They didn’t make a lasting impression on me at the time.”

While renting rooms in Queensgate, John formed a loose R&B quartet with a flatmate, guitarist Peter Stoddart, one Don Cater on drums and another guitarist remembered only as Albert. The new band was hardlv a great leap forward from Art: they wrote no originals, and when asked to perform their only gig at Chelsea College on 21st November 1970, supporting Hardin & York and the Idle Race, they hastily billed themselves — in a rare fit of self-publicity for the quiet Oadby boy — as Deacon.

A few months later in early 1971, John was introduced to Brian May and Roger Taylor by a mutual friend, Christine Farnell, at a disco at Maria Assumpta Teacher Training College. They were looking for a bassist. John auditioned at Imperial College shortly afterwards. Roger Taylor recalled Queen’s initial reaction to Deacon in ‘As It Began’: “We thought he was great. We were so used to each other, and so over the top, we thought that because he was quiet he would fit in with us without too much upheaval. He was a great bass player, too — and the fact that he was a wizard with electronics was definitely a deciding factor!”

How did the members of the Art/Opposition back in Leicester, view John’s success with Queen? “It wasn’t sudden”, says Ron Chester. “First we heard he’d got into another group. We couldn’t believe that — were they deaf? There were all these sort of jokes going along. Then we heard he’d got a recording contract and the next thing he had a record out. It was a gradual progression. No one dreamed he would end up the way he did.”

“I don’t think we expected success for any of us" admits Nigel Bullen. “Richard maybe. He was the first one to go professional. But when John left for London to go to college, he left all his kit here. I thought that was the end of it for him. He had absolutely no intention of continuing. His college course was No.1. It was only after he kept seeing adverts for bass players in the ‘Melody Maker’ that he became interested again.”

He also seemed to lose some of that ‘Easy Deacon’ touch which so impressed Dave Williams in the ‘60s. “He’d ring up these bands,” continues Nigel, “but when he found they were a name act, he bottle out. When he went to auditions for anonymous bands, where he would queue up with about thirty other bass players, he had a bit of confidence. He just wanted to play in a decent band. Once I heard what Queen had recorded at De Lane Lea, and John played me the demo of their first album, I thought they were well set.”

CABARET

By early 1973, Dave Williams had forsaken a career in animation to join Highly Likely, a cabaret outfit put together by Mike Hugg and producer Dave Hadfield on the back of their minor hit, “Whatever Happened To You (The Likely Lads Theme)”. While Dave was in the band, they recorded a follow-up single which wasn’t released, before evolving into a glam rock outfit, Razzle, which later become the Ritz, who issued a few singles. “During Queen’s early days, before they’d had any real success, John came to see us once,” recalls Dave, “and said, ‘I wish I was in a band like this which could actually play some gigs’.” Dave concludes: “I remember John coming round once around that time, saying I’ve got a demo’. ‘So have I!’, I said. So we put his on first, and the first track was ‘Keep Yourself Alive’. My mouth dropped wide open and I thought. ‘Bloody hell! What a great track’. I remember saying that the guitarist was as good as Ritchie Blackmore — who was still our hero then — and thinking ‘They’re serious about this. This is the real thing’.”

RECORD COLLECTOR Nº 198 FEBRUARY 1996

⬅PREVIOUS: SMILE

https://melisa-may-taylor72.tumblr.com/post/639672109315014656/queen-before-queen-the-1960s-recordings

➡NEXT: IBEX, WRECKAGE & SOUR MILK SEA

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @x5vale, @39-brian, @onegoldenglance, @crosmopolitan, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @drummerqueenrmt, @old-fashioned-roger-boy, @briianmaay, @inui-mycroft, @deacytits, @iminlovewithrogscar, @drowseoftaylor, @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @aslongasthereismusic, @roger-taylors-car, @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie, @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @drivenbybrianmay @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance, @painkiller80, @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury, @retroromantics, @sailawaysweetbrimi, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils , @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @foxmonkey, @deakysgurl, @redspecialandclogsandcurls, @briansrainbowsocks-deactivated2, @delilahmay39, @ohmybribri, @bless-the-queen, @everythingaboutfreddie, @doitforthevine67, @recordsoftheseventies, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog, @tenementfunsterwithpurpleshoes, @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band, @beatlegirl1968, @maylorsqueen, @autumnscenemcyt, @gralto, @alittlepeoplemagic, @rainbowsockbrian, @frejudy, @drivenbybri, @yourlocalmusicalprostitute, @saik-ava, @omb-xx, @sassymaylor, @somekindofroger, @starlightmay, @freddiemercuryismylife, @sunshine112, @chrysochromulina, @glitteryloveravenue, @deakyislife51, @0-primejive-0, @just-a-skinny-lad, @bluewillowmom, @sassiesillie, @stesichoreanpalinode, @farrokhbulsaramercury, @tayloredofqueen, @rushingheadlong, @izzy-is-slightly-mad, @scandalacious, @0-my-fairy-queen-0 @39-volunteers-to-space@zodiacaldust, @deakytaylor, @queenband70s, @deakyeveryday, @drivenbybrimay @70smay

#Queen Before Queen #Pre-Queen Series #John Deacon #The Opposition #🎤🎵🎸👑⭐

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my-darling-luna · 3 years

Text

Your Majesty Chapter 4

I try to make my stories as inclusive as possible!! Let me know if there is something that I can change/add to make things better!! I love you!!

Your Majesty Masterlist

Summary- It has been more than a decade since the Kingdom of Ultron lost their princess. (Y/n) was just a 17 year old that didn’t know much about her past. Realizations happen and lives are crossed. How will (Y/n) handle the new pressure?

Stucky x reader

“(Y/n) this is King T’Challa.” Tony motioned his daughter to move closer to the king. She curtsied before speaking to him.

“It’s great to finally meet you.” She watched as he bowed to her.

“I can say the same about you. I’ve heard a lot about you in the past few weeks.” (Y/n) blushed out of nervousness and looked out the corner of her eye for some moral support, but she found nothing. Her father probably went to go mingle while leaving (Y/n) alone with a person she barely knew.

“Yes well I’ll admit that it has been a crazy week.” She laughed under her breath. King T’Challa smiled kindly.

“I bet-” he was cut off by a woman whispering in his ear. His eyes never strayed from (Y/n), however, his mind clearly did as he listened intently, “thank you, Nakia. I’m sorry (Y/n), I’d love to talk to you later, but I must attend to something.”

“It’s no issue, it was great meeting you.” He nodded before turning around and following Nakia out of the ballroom. (Y/n) stood quietly off to the side while fiddling with her thumbs (a nervous habit that her teacher has tried to get out of her because it ‘doesn’t look royal’, but has so far failed). Huffing, she turned on her heel and walked to the other side of the ballroom and slipped out a side door that was only for the servants to exit and enter. It led to the garden, a fact that she learned the first day of her being in this huge castle. Walking down the corridor, she opened the outside door and began to wander the fresh smelling flowers.

(Y/n)’s fingers ruffled the petals of a tiger lily before moving onto the white roses. “You could get killed being out here.” She turned around quickly to see two men standing on the edge of the flower beds.

“You say it like it’s something to be afraid of.” (Y/n) responded to the man with brown hair and blue eyes. Both of them quirked their eye brows in a similar way.

“And you’re not?” The blonde haired man asked.

(Y/n) shook her head. “There is nothing I feel like I should be afraid of. No pain, physical or mental? Seems as though it would be a good deal.” The first man shrugged before moving closer to (Y/n).

“It’s great to meet you, princess.” He took (Y/n)’s hand in his and kissed the back of it. “My name is Bucky.” (Y/n) smiled queasily before pulling away and tucking her hand in the grasp of her other.

“It’s great to meet you too. You’re the Duke of-” She was cut off by the blonde man which left a bad taste in her mouth. She hated being cut off, especially by someone that she just met.

“Brooklyn, and I am Steve, the King.” He bowed to the girl in front of him and his smile fell at the small nod she gave to him.

“Pleasure.” Her voice had a hint of distaste to it. “I must be going. It was wonderful to meet you both.” They nodded and that was (Y/n)’s cue to leave, practically running to the door.

“Where were you?” Tony asked, pulling (Y/n) in for a quick kiss on the forehead.

“I went for a walk, it was feeling stuffy in here.” Tony opened his mouth to scold her, but he was cut off by a booming voice.

“Stark! It is so good to see you.” (Y/n) turned around to see another blonde haired man in front of her, but this man had longer hair than Steve and also sported a beard. (Y/n) watched with interest aimed at the man as he hugged her father. “This must be Lady (Y/n)!” He bows to her kindly before motioning to her father. “How has it been living with a man as snarky as him?” Tony shook his head before pushing the man’s hand off his shoulder.

“(Y/n) this is Thor. He’s the King of Asgard.”

“It’s great to meet you,” (Y/n) felt tired of saying the same thing over and over again to all of the Kings, Queens, and other nobles as she had been all night, “and yes, my father is quite a challenge.” She teased and Tony stuck out his tongue at her.

“I can tell.” He looked around for a second like he was assessing the room. “Would you like to dance with me?” (Y/n) nodded, excited to know more about Thor.

***

They danced for three songs all while talking and laughing about memories and stories of those back in Asgard. (Y/n) loved the stories about his younger (adopted) brother named Loki and the constant tricks and pranks that he pulled on all people.

“You will have to come meet him sometime, Lady (Y/n).” She nodded excitedly, laughing as Thor spun her out and pulled her in close.

“I would love that.” She answered, talking a bit louder than usual because of the noise of the ballroom. The music decrescendoed and clapping once again filled the ballroom. Everyone watched as the King of Ultron stepped up and began speaking.

“I thank you all for coming and celebrating the return of my first daughter,” everyone turned to face (Y/n) and clapped, making her shy away from the attention slightly, “now as the night winds down, I’d love to do some dances that trace back generations, so come dance and if you don’t want to, get out.” Laughter started up, but it was anxious as no one knew if he joking or not. The band immediately started playing an upbeat tune once Tony got off the stage. (Y/n) squealed with happiness before grabbing Thor’s hand and dragging him to the big circle that was made in the middle of the ballroom.

“I love this dance!” She grasped Thor’s hand in her right and another man’s on her left that she didn’t recognize. “This was the first dance I was taught by my teacher when I got here.” Thor’s eyes twinkled as everyone grabbed hands and began walking four steps in then four steps out.

“I was only taught this a week before I came, so forgive me if I’m rusty.” (Y/n) shook her head and laughed as everyone broke off into twos and began dancing.

“I thought you’ve been friends with my father for a long time? Why are you just now doing this dance?” He picked her up by the waist and spun her before bringing her back to solid ground.

“I’ve never been able to make a party like this before, usually my parents would come instead.” Thor flinched at his own words and (Y/n) knew not to pry anymore. (Y/n) split off again with the rest of the women and moved to the next man that they had not danced with yet.

“What a pleasure to meet you, princess. Name is Brock Rumlow.”

“Wonderful.” Her tone was flat and she was spun again into the next person’s arms.

“(Y/n).” Steve said, a smile growing on his face as he held onto her waist with his hand.

“Your majesty.” She said plainly and his smile fell.

“Look, I’m sorry for interrupting yo-” she was spun again, this time into Bucky’s arms. He held her closer than Steve, his arm going fully around her waist to pull her chest-to-chest.

“Does your friend ever not interrupt people?” Bucky laughed and shook his head. (Y/n) felt the heat in her stomach grow a tiny bit before completing disappearing.

“I can’t say I’ve known when he does. However, I know that he does it when he’s excited and he did seem jumpy to meet you.” (Y/n) looked over to Steve who was spinning a girl with blonde hair in his arms. The band slowed down and once the last of the strings stopped, everyone else followed. People clapped to the band before starting to leave in groups.

“(Y/n)?” Tony called and she turned around. “I have invited the kings and their families from neighboring to stay here for a while.” (Y/n) knew the deeper meaning in that sentence. They were staying here because of the threat that Hydra made. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” He kissed her forehead and patted the back of her head while staring straight at the two men who were standing too close to her in his opinion.

“Dad, just leave.” She jokingly pushed him away and he looked insulted before rolling his eyes. “I can bring them to their rooms.”

“They’re in the visitor’s wing.”

“I know, stop worrying.” Tony gave one more look at the two men before turning around to join Thor and T’Challa along with their families.

“Let’s go.” She nodded towards the open door before walking through and down the corridor. Bucky and Steve ran after her and waited until they caught up to begin talking.

“I really am sorry.” Steve said and (Y/n) watched as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

She shook her head. “It’s whatever...just don’t do it again please.” Steve nodded and the three took a left and then a right to end up in the visitor’s hall. “Lisa?” An older woman turned around and smiled when she saw (Y/n).

“What can I do for you, dear?” (Y/n) smiled.

“Can you tell me where Steve and Bucky are supposed to be?” Lisa nodded.

“Second and third doors to your right, miss.”

“Thank you.” The woman nodded and walked down the hallway.

“Here we are.” (Y/n) nodded towards the direction of the doors.

“Thank you.” She shook her head at Steve’s words.

“Can we see you tomorrow?” Bucky asked, holding his door open slightly.

“You don’t have any meetings with my father and the rest of the kings?” (Y/n) teased and both Steve’s and Bucky’s eyes widened.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bucky suddenly got nervous.

“I’m not stupid, boys. So what time?”

“4:00.” Steve was the first to give up. Interesting.

“Do you both know how to ride?” They nodded. “Well how about we go riding after breakfast?” The two nodded again. “Great. Good night.” She began walking off.

“Wait,” Bucky yelled, “shouldn’t we be walking you back?”

“I’ve never been one for the traditions.” (Y/n) said simply and began walking once again. Two doors shut behind her.

—

Taglist- @austynparksandpizza @aikeia @simplyfandomish @baby-noodles @lili-ann-love @rebloggingeverything @spookyparadisesheep

#x stark!reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fantasy #magic #fluff #love #bucky barnes #stucky x reader #stark reader #stucky #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #steve x bucky #au #royalty #royal

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dinosaurtsukki · 3 years

Text

BSD x university au hc’s | pt. 2

part 2 of the university au hc’s !! i am obviously a slut for chuuya and fyodor so don’t mind me. i hope you guys like this !!

check out pt. 1 here

***********************************************

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke:

i love akutagawa ryuunosuke my angst child but i’m just like ‘hmmmmmmm’ when it comes to what his course would probably be

after extensive research aka reading his character page on wiki i feel like maybe he’d be a history major because,,,, he likes antiques?

well his clothes do seem very dark academia-esque and i can see him liking something as cool as history

akutagawa’s probably into something like war history but he’s not weird about it he just finds it really cool how different strategies work or analyzing what exactly makes the winners win

he absolutely HATES the fact that he keeps having to read the Iliad for class

he’s also that classmate who INTENSIVELY DEFENDS achilles for being a bit of a little bitch (but he fully agrees that patroclus and achilles were gay af ok this was random moving on)

akutagawa has practically no social life. he doesn’t go to parties, he doesn’t talk to his roommate, he doesn’t even like to eat in the dining hall

BUT he absolutely loves being in debate team because WINNING

he’s such a nightmare to work with though but he just delivers so well when it’s time for him to speak. like, if he’s on a negative and it’s time to hash out rebuttals, just prepare to get MURDERED

other debaters: “esteemed scholars and adjudicators...”

akutagawa: “you, sir, have no idea how wrong you are.”

that is until dazai decided to randomly show up at a debate tournament all ‘la di da da’ like and completely crushed akutagawa along with his ego

from then on he started stalking dazai and just SOMEHOW managed to end up in his circle of friends

even though he’s antisocial in real life, akutagawa 100% runs a dark academia aesthetic blog on tumblr i’m right and i don’t accept criticism

it’s actually really good he has a ton of followers and even does requests for moodboards if someone asks nicely

atsushi was the one who actually found out about it but he’s nice so he didn’t tell akutagawa about it

kunikida probably follows that blog

Chuuya Nakahara:

if this part sounds like i’m just thirsting for chuuya then you’re absolutely right i love wine man

don’t get mad at me but i can ABSOLUTELY SEE HIM MAJORING IN FASHION DESIGN I MEAN LOOK AT HIM

he’s just always had such a good eye for fashion and he’s veryyy meticulous when it comes to snipping and putting together clothes

chuuya also carries a sketchbook full of designs and his drawings look amazing and he isn’t afraid to just show them off

that said he doesn’t dress like a tired uni student at all, like he just always looks so on-point and unbothered by his five million deadlines

dazai: chuuya, i said this was a CASUAL LUNCH

chuuya, dressed in what looks like silk pajamas: THIS IS CASUAL

tbh if he just wore a white t-shirt and jeans i would die maybe he’s actually saving us from this ordeal

he has so much talent though as a designer he’s probably had several internships with design companies all throughout his years at uni

i feel like chuuya’s also really active in extracurriculars and has been in leadership positions in some of them (he probably runs the student org for fashion design)

chuuya in a student band though oh my gosh i can’t breathe i can’t breathe him as a VOCALIST?? and wearing torn jeans and eyeliner and that same hat in concerts ican’t brEATHE

okay in all honesty he would thrive being in a band chuuya loves the attention and the creativity of being able to design their whole look and write songs

tbh i don’t know if he’d have a roommate chuuya’s probably the type who’d rather have one of those single rooms or just rent a flat for him to stay in even after graduation

because his social life is super vibrant, he does have a lot of friends and he does make an effort to get to know all of them individually

but he’s more open around those who he’s been friends with for a really long time and as much as he’d like to say dazai isn’t one of them, he is

also chuuya is definitely the type to party hard during the weekends and has more than once crashed in someone’s house after drinking too much (dazai drew on his face on more than one occasion)

Oda Sakunosuke:

i love this man SO MUCH you guys have no idea i would literally die for him

100% this guy majors in creative writing because this is supported by FACTS and not just me wanting to be coursemates with him in this fictional world

super serious and diligent with his work especially since he’s passionate about writing. he loves to read in his spare time and is such a fan of classic novels about social realism or philosophy

oda spends 99% of his time in second-hand bookshops that the owner probably knows him by name at this point

he’s super old school when it comes to writing though, like he still keeps and writes in a notebook before typing it up on a laptop and no matter how many times dazai tells him its impractical, oda just keeps doing it

lmao whenever workshops come around he’s super nice with his critique. i bet a lot of his fellow classmates like sending their writing drafts to him

he draws smiley faces and always adds ‘nice work’ on people’s drafts omg i love odasaku

he’s such an old soul, he probably doesn’t do a whole lot of partying but he likes more quiet, private social events like drinking with close friends or just hanging out and talking at other people’s houses

he and dazai probably met when dazai decided to take an intro to creative writing class and wrote a long poem about double suicide on his first day that kind of put off everyone in the class from wanting to sit with him

odasaku was the only one who wasn’t exactly bothered but he did give dazai some comments to help him with his poetry and dazai instantly wanted to be his friend

in terms of extracurricular life, i can definitely see odasaku joining a writing organization and even the campus newspaper. he does find joy in interviewing students for newspaper articles

he’s also pretty into photography and uses a really old, second-hand camera that he bought at an antique store and fixed himself. at one point he won a prize in a contest

odasaku would be the best roommate. he’s super sensitive to when you have a bad day and will invite you to sit on his bed and hug his pillow and talk about your problems

scratch that, everyone talks to odasaku about their problems and now your room is like a therapist’s office

Edgar Allan Poe:

i swear this was the only gif i could find other than actual edgar allan poe

ANOTHER CREATIVE WRITING BUDDY AHHH I WOULD LOVE TO BE BESTIES WITH HIM AHHH

well actually i feel like since he’s super ambitious and already has a fixed idea on the stuff he likes to write, he’d probably double major in something like forensic science because he’d use it to write his mystery novels

omg that’s where he meets ranpo and now pretty much every main character poe writes is slightly based on on ranpo

it’s a problem. his professor brings it up more than once during his classes but it’s poe’s Thing now

he also has such an unending passion for gothic literature and he wears those white, long-sleeved blouses and waistcoats on a REGULAR BASIS

chuuya probably saw him once and was like ‘hmm, i could pull that off’

poe’s daily route is just going to the library and to class and then go home and that’s about it

he ended up working as a student assistant at the library because he’s just super familiar with the book collections and it’s a job that’s peaceful and quiet

more than once though, he’d just be really in-deep with his writing to the point that he doesn’t even notice that the library has closed or that he hasn’t eaten the entire day

that’s alright though because ranpo always passes by the library at night to check on his friend and (reluctantly) give him some snacks

also since poe’s pretty much a recluse, he doesn’t go to any social event UNLESS it’s a halloween-themed one

he loves going all out with his costumes because he’s a Drama Queen like that but the problem is he keeps dressing up as gothic novel characters and nobody gets it

dazai, trying to guess his costume: umm,, Two-Face from Batman?

poe: IT’S DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

there was this one time when poe took it upon himself to host the halloween party and it was EPIC

he basically designed it as a murder mystery night wherein everyone who came pretended to be guests at a house and then a murder happened

the only problem was that ranpo was conspiring with poe and it was pretty much unfair

except for the fact that ranpo was frustrated at how bad everyone was at deducing that he ended up solving the mystery for them

Fyodor Dostoevsky:

one of my favorite scenes of him in s3 was of fyodor playing the cello because god damn that is beautiful and therefore i am hc-ing him as a music major and you can’t tell me otherwise

fyodor is an absolute music genius and he was definitely scouted by the university’s music program and then he was granted a scholarship (because in this ideal university, the arts are valued)

he purposely decided to go to a university rather than a music conservatory because he’s also interested in learning a bunch of other things

aside from his music classes, he ventures into comparative literature and philosophy, even a bit of computer science at some point

people always assume that since he’s a music major he probably wouldn’t do well in other subjects but SURPRISE BITCH

anyway, fyodor’s a genius because god clearly has favorites

aside from attending class, he’s even part of an official orchestra and has even landed a few solos

that said, he’s quite busy and very preoccupied in his own work to actually have a social life either

you’ll often find him rehearsing by himself in an empty classroom for hours and hours on end (someone pls bring him food he’s also the type to forget to eat or even drink water)

if you are able to catch him perform at an orchestra or just practice by himself, it’s quite a mesmerizing sight. his eyes are often closed so he could focus on the sound alone and his fingers move so elegantly along the neck of the cello

(sorry i just love people who play any form of stringed instrument)

fyodor also takes such good care of his cello. also he would probably kill you on the spot if you touched his bow

he has a fairly small group of friends and they like playing chess together (even though fyodor is better than all of them) and just talk about um,, idk philosophy and stuff (whatever it is smart people do idk i’m not one of them)

i have a feeling he actually follows akutagawa’s dark academia blog and loves his content, even to the point of requesting ‘cello player moodboards’

also because he’s a cello player he needs to take care of his fingers so he wears gloves a lot (idk why i find this hot)

***********************************************

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @tpwkatsumu @laure-chan

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd writing #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs writing #bungou stray dogs headcanons #akutagawa ryuunosuke #chuuya nakahara #oda sakunosuke #edgar allan poe #fyodor dostoevsky #bungou stray dogs university au #bsd uni au #bungou stray dogs scenarios #bsd scenarios

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rosiegeee · 3 years

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Best Equestria Girls/Unconfirmed Couples in MLP

This is once again going to be a heavily biased list. I literally like all these ships the same except #10 but it would be a weird list to have a nine way tie. these couples were either only hinted at in the final season of My little pony, were in the comics, or were from Equestria Girls. They will be ranked on how much of a romance they seem to have.

#10: Applejack and Rainbow Dash

There is nothing wrong with these two being a couple, as they are implied to be in the final episode of MLP, I just never shipped them and never found there was any romantic tension between the two, just friendship. The only romantic thing I can think of is from the scene the picture shows where they are friendly bickering about how Rainbow should be allowed to help Applejack with her farm chores.

#9: King sombra and Radiant Hope

I love these two so much. Through flashbacks we see how these two met, were the best of friends growing up, and than Sombra falling in love with Hope. Even in his monsterous shadow pony form Sombra wants Hope to be his queen, and Hope still loves him, and when he is turned into a full pony they run off together side by side to explore Equestria finding Amore shards to restore her. Hope risked her safety and her freedom to save Sombra and there love oozes from the pages. However, the reason they are number 9 and not number 1 is because of Sombra’s treatment of her as a shadow pony. He emotionally manipulated her to stay by his side, screamed and yelled at her, threatened her, and kept her basically prisoner in the castle, he changes in the end but that doesn’t change what he did to her.

#8: Flash Sentry and Twilight Sparkle

They used to be my favourite ship when I was young, they were so cute and I found it funny seeing a blushing embarrassed Twilight, something the normal show didn’t have. However I was like 13 at the time when I watched this and Rainbow rocks for the first time, and have since seen some flaws here. There relationship is sweet in the first film and and you can tell how good of a guy Flash is, and Twilight returns these feeling, and the quick showing of them being at the dance together was adorable, but than Rainbow rocks happens. It is made clear to use that the entire time Twilight has been gone Flash has missed her(so cute) but from the show we know Twilight hasn’t thought or mentioned human Flash or pony Flash since, and continues not to think about him until she literally runs into him, and awkwardly the cuteness fades as Twilight no longer seems to know how to interact with him, which upsets Flash. Than as the sirens work there magic they become increasingly hostile towards each other and don’t really get a lot of screen time together for the rest of the movie, and than they literally never see each other again, but Flash still waits for her to return. In Everfree Forest he starts to move on.

#7: Curly Winds and Wiz Kid

I don’t know enough about these two to give them a true ranking so they get this neutral spot, but from the images above I’d say they are a pretty sweet couple. And Being LGBT, I always love representation in tv shows.

#6: Timber Spruce and Sci-Twi

Sci-Twi was never meant for Flash Sentry, and I’m glad they did not get together, but Timber and Sci-Twi is a different story. He was so sweet to her, and there chemistry seemed natural, and he actually asked her out, something Flash never did, that and the almost kiss. This Twilights reaction to having a crush is different from Princess Twilights, and I love how well she gets along with him. The only reason they are not higher is because he was covering for his sister who planned on doing dangerous and illegal things. That and she’s in high school and he is an unmentioned amount years older who seems to have done this camp at least once before so it could be anywhere from a year difference to six.

#5: Yona and Sandbar

Oh my god, they are so cute. The episode that first shows hints of a romance between these two is also one of my favourites because Yona is worried that the Pony’s attending the dance (aka Sand Bar who is the one who invited her) will judge her because she does not look, act, or dance like a pony(because she’s a Yak) and she tries to make herself more pony only to make a fool of herself and mess up the dance. However when she runs off Sandbar finds her and comforts her and tells her that he liked her for being herself and that he doesn’t care that she is a yak. He than asks her back to the dance where they spend the rest of the night together. Also they are seen holding hoofs in the big fight at the end, and are seeming living together at Carousel Boutique.

#4: Hoofbeard and Jewel

If you didn’t read the IDW comics you would never know these two, but the mane six go on an adventure with Captain Hoofbeard and try and find his treasured Jewel, but the X on the map keeps moving, in the end its revealed that Jewel isn’t a gem, but a seapony and an old girlfriend of Hoofbeard. He confesses that he still loves her and wishes they could be together but knows that she breaths water and he breaths air, but Twilight uses a spell that gives him gills and some fins. He traveled the ocean, like how Cranky Donkey traveled the land, to find his love again, and faced many dangers to do so.

#3: Fluttershy and Discord

I always thought these two should stay friends, especially considering he’s immortal ad she isn’t, but in the later seasons it was impossible to deny the romance forming between the two. Discord loves Fluttershy and gets giddy anytime he thinks about her and has pictures of her, and they have tea parties(dates) every week. For Fluttershy she knows Discord like the back of her hoof and is deeply hurt when he sort of betrays the group in the finally, but before that Angel(her bunny who knows everything about her) while in Fluttershy’s body stated how it was Fluttershy’s wish to MARRY DISCORD. In the finally Discord drops Fluttershy at Twilights and gives her a lunch, implying that they live together and during Fluttershy’s part of the song The Magic Of Friendship Grows, as she sings the line, “And because the love that I feel, For every single living creature is something that is real , Friendship happens so naturally ” Discord comes out of a portal and they stare at each other and se extends her wing out to him as he flies just off screen. The writers say there relationship is up to the viewers interpretation, but they are obviously in love and married by the end. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ImsTS1Kb9ww

#2: Flash sentry and Sunset Shimmer

Here’s where the bias comes in. In the first film its said how these two used to be a couple but that they broke up not long before the series because of how bad she used to be, and than its never mentioned again until Everfree where Flash and Sunset have a momment where they confide in each other because they still know each other in ways the other main characters don’t know her. Flash even asks her if she’d like to start over, than awkwardly adds the friends part but its obvious hw they look at each other that there is still a spark there and it will most likely be rekindled soon. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VI5lTaUahfU

#1: King Sombra and Princess Celestia

This was the Romeo and Juliet is Romeo and Juliet where literally from other worlds and actually loved each other. This comic pulled at my heartstrings so much that I could never look at Sombra in the TV show the same way again. In this four part series its revealed that before Luna even became Nightmare moon Celestia had been visiting this other Equestria where its ruled by a kind Sombra and the two fell in love and have secretly been visiting each other on and off since. But there travels is ripping the barrier between the two world apart so they can’t see each other as often. In the end Sombra restores the barrier, saving both there worlds, by sacrificing himself by absorbing the evil of the alternate versions of Luna and Celestia, becoming just like Sombra in Celestia’s world. His final act is telling Celestia to leave him(So he won’t do anything he’d regret to her) than on the final page Celestia alone says how much she still loves him, and in his own dimension, despite being evil, admits how he still loves her as well. In the end they are never allowed to see each other again, but there love still transcends dimensional boarders.

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twinkleallnight · 3 years

Text

A Twisted Tale

Chapter 2

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Word count: 2334

Characters: Liam, Drake, Riley, Olivia.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: mention of death.

A/N: I m We are participating in @wackydrabbles prompt: "That makes my {body part} tingle." that appears in bold.

Catch up here

An AU of The Royal Romance paving it's way through mixed emotions of wants, needs and desires, of revenge and regrets, of trust, faith and hope.

A joint venture brought to you with love by @twinkleallnight and @annekebbphotography

Liam’s POV

Riley looks at me with concern and all I can do is shake my head, I didn’t want to get into it right now. All I wanted to do was talk to Olivia and she didn’t even give me a chance to say anything, just assumed she knew what I was doing.

“Are you ready to go?” I ask as we walk towards the jet.

Riley beams at me, I have never seen blue eyes sparkle like that. “More than ready. I am so excited.” She giggles as she walks towards the steps. I let her go first and damn, she is making it hard for me. She’s wearing a tight blue jean with a pink flowing shirt, but her ass is on display as she climbs the steps of the jet. I know it’s wrong, I am in love with someone else, but damn she’s beautiful and can I mention that she is making my pants pretty uncomfortable.

I shake my head to get the thoughts out of my mind, I need to focus. All I need is to get back to Cordonia and see Olivia. Then all of this will be over and I will be back to normal. Riley will only be working for me and probably become my friend.

The flight back to Cordonia is spent with me explaining to Riley how things work in Cordonia. I tell her about the ins and outs of the royal council and how to address each of the court members. She impressed me with knowing most of the things I was teaching her. I believe that she will do well in the Palace. She will obviously be my right hand, and she will have to attend functions and meetings with me, until I finally find my Queen. No wait, scratch that. Until I get married to my Queen. I just need her to fall in love with me.

The pilot lets us know that we will be landing. “Look out of the window.” I motion to the window next to Riley and I can’t help admire the happiness and excitement on her face.

“Wow, It’s really something else.” She says, a little too excited.

*****************

After getting checked by security and getting the all clear, Riley and I make our way to the palace. Seeing the excitement in Riley’s eyes makes me see the place and the country in a different light. I have been here all my life and love my country, but I think I might have taken it for granted.

“Is this where I will be staying?” She points to the palace and I can’t help but smile.

“Yes, you will have your own room. Normally we will put you in the guest rooms, but I want you close to my wing. You will not be alone. My best friend, Drake Walker also stays in the wing you will be staying in.” I nod to Bastien as he pulls up in front of the palace.

“I can’t wait to start work. It might be weird, but I want to learn as much as possible.”

Bastien opens my door before I could say anything else. As I get out I see Olivia coming down the front step of the Palace. This is even more bad timing.

Olivia crosses the distance between us in a few swift steps. She curtsies in front of me dramatically, "Welcome back home, your majesty." I can feel the bite in her tone.

"It's good to be back Duchess." I smirk, as I take her hand and kiss the back of it. My eyes never leave hers. That is until she breaks my gaze and looks over my shoulder. I turn around to see that Riley has just stepped out of the car.

"Since when did you start bringing your dinner home?" I don't know if it's her regular snarky comment or is she jealous.

"Since it's too good to leave behind!" I say with a grin on my face. Lets see how far this can go.

She sneers at me and almost looks like she is going to attack me when Bastien interferes. "Can we take this inside, Duchess."

Olivia glares at Bastien. She turns around and storms back inside without saying anything.

I turn towards Riley. She is a bit flabbergasted at what just happened. "That's Duchess Olivia Nevrakis of Lythikos for you." I offer her my arm. "Shall I show you to your room." She links her arm with mine and I can't help but smile at the jolt of electricity I feel when she touches me. Her cheeks turn a soft pink when her hand touches my arm.

As I am walking her in, I pass through the corridors and see Olivia sneaking into my study. I am a little nervous now thinking of what lies ahead. Upsetting the woman I love is not my style.

I try to be quick with Riley hoping she doesn't catch the hints of my nervousness.

"Please make yourself at home. Bastien here can help you if you need anything. I have some pending office work to complete. We can start with your job profile tomorrow."

Having said that, I quickly turn on my heels and stride down to my study. I enter and see Olivia standing with a wine glass. Her devilish smile welcomes me in. "Dinner was not to your taste? You left the party so soon?"

"I have my dinner preparing for me. I plan to make it breakfast and lunch as well. Maybe a reading snack in the library could work for me." I know I am digging my own grave. But I love bickering with her.

"Cut it out Liam." She snarls at me. "We both know your appetite well."

"Then don't make assumptions, when you do not know the whole story." I walk over to my desk and take a seat. "Now, we have matters to discuss. Please take a seat" I motion to the seat in front of my desk.

With a huff and a puff, Olivia gives in and sits in the chair across my table. I can still feel her restlessness. When she cannot contain it anymore she finally asks. "Who is she?"

I smirk as I lean back into my chair resting my hands behind my back. "She is my new personal assistant. We will be working closely together." I throw it out there. I need a sign that this is affecting her.

"Okay. Just a personal assistant." She reverberates. She fans it out, sipping her wine. As the warm liquid passes down her throat she relaxes. "What did you want to discuss?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing. Also I would like you to take Riley shopping. She would need appropriate clothes to wear to the office."

Not that I mind the clothes she's wearing, but selfishly I don't want the other men to look at her like that.

"If you are forgetting, I am a Duchess. Not staff at your palace. Why would I spend my precious time on a girl you randomly picked up from the streets of America. I give a damn at how she dresses. That's her problem if she doesn't have the basic training or dressing sense."

She then adds. "Ask Drake to do that. He knows better how to deal with Street hawkers, from where he comes."

"She is not just some random girl. I am asking you, because I want you to give her a chance. She's best qualified for this job. If you don't want to do it, I will do it myself. I don't mind spending time with her."

"For god's sake Liam! What's wrong with you? You are a king, not a teenage boy following a girl, holding her bags. You won't go shopping with her." She orders with authority. She loves me. She won't say it but she does. She tries to show she owns me. That makes my heart tingle. How can I resist her? I don't want to. I want to hold her tight at this moment and tell her how much I love her and I will do as she demands. But I resist the urge and continue defending my case.

"It is because I am the king that I can do this. I asked you and you said no, so now I will take her. Isn't that what you wanted. To have someone else take her?" I raise my brow at Olivia. I will get her to love me or at least admit that she loves me.

" I want someone else to take her because I want you to be with me at Lythikos. I have some things to discuss for the duchy."

It is not easy to bend her. She has her ways. She again found a reason to ignore my advances.

" Okay. I will come with you." I get up and move across the table. I take her hand in my hand. Her skin is soft against my touch. " If you promise that we will have dinner after work."

Her green eyes pierce at me.

"Fine." She says and slips out her hand to stand straight. "See you in an hour. You can accompany me on the drive to Lythikos."

She walks down to the door and turns before leaving. " I will ask Drake to help your damsel in distress"

"NO..." I stop and take a deep breath. "Fine, ask Drake to go with her."

***********

Olivia's POV

I walk out of Liam's study with a staid mind. This was not how I had expected things to progress. I have already started hating this American girl. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and start walking to the stables in search of Drake. He spots me first.

"Hey red hood!" He calls out from the booth where he is tending a horse.

"Hi Wolfie." I walk over to him.

"What's up?"

"Job for you." I wait to gain his full attention.

" At your service madam. Name it." He washes his hands and carelessly rubs them over his apron. He discards the apron to show off his chiselled chest. He has a habit of being ruthless about how his supermodel body has an effect on anyone around him. He pulls in a white cotton shirt but doesn't bother buttoning it up, leaving his rippled abdomen open for view. Had he not been a commoner, I would have let my fingers roam over his rugged body. I'm lost in drooling over his killer looks when, as if he has read my mind, he speaks.

"You were 25 inches up."

I turn pink on that comment and take my eyes off from his abs, 25inches up, to his brown eyes. I clear my throat.

"Liam has got some American girl with him. Says she is going to be his personal assistant and want you to take her shopping for her formal wear."

"And why would he send the message through none other than the Duchess?"

"Because I suggested it. He wanted me to do that, but I have some work at the duchy, and I am taking Liam along. That leaves only you available."

" So, you are trying to whisk away the king from the girl."

"No, I am not." I say firmly.

Drake ignores my comment and continues," But if she is going to be his personal assistant, you may have to up your game."

"There is no game being played here. Just do the damn shopping with her." My voice raises in frustration.

"Okay, okay. Will do it."

" Bastein will take you to her. See ya later." Before he can throw more questions, I spin and walk away.

After an hour, I am travelling alone in my car. Liam excused himself for some security check reasons, saying he will be there in another hour. I know he is taking his time luring his new found fascination in that girl. I feel my blood boiling at the thought of them together. I make a few necessary calls and wait for the road to end.

Seething in the same anger I stomp through the Chateau to my room. When I am inside I find aunt Lucretia waiting there for me.

She welcomes me with her crooked smile. "So how is my favourite niece doing?"

"Your only niece." I throw my purse callously on the bed and sprawl on it. I am staring at the ceiling trying to assess the situation.

She sits at the edge of the bed and moves her fingers lovingly through my loose hair.

"What is troubling you my darling?"

"I think I stretched it a bit too long."

"Stretched what?"

"Ignoring Liam's feelings. Now he seems to have got some seductress from his UN conference and is following her like a puppy all around."

"Oh dear, these girls come and go in the lives of nobles. Let him loiter around. He is a king and when it comes to choosing a queen, he will not look for some common girl. He will only have his eyes for you."

"I don't want to take this lightly." I prop up on the bed. "He is coming to Lythikos. He insisted on a dinner date with me. I am going for it."

"I think you are overreacting."

" Aunt Lucretia, I had that guy entwined around my little finger all these years. And today he got the guts to get some commoner and throw her into my face? I am no longer leaving it for chance. I am going to make him bend on his knees, and when he does that, I am going to gladly accept it."

I get back on my toes and proudly announce. "Once I become the queen of Cordonia, I will take the reins in my hands. The Nevrakis blood will rule Cordonia. The dream my parents had, will come true. And so will my revenge for their death!"

Tags: @ao719 @anjanettexcordonia @bascmve01 @bebepac @charlotteg234 @choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen @drakewalker04 @eadanga @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @krsnlove @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog @indiacater @jessiembruno @jovialyouthmusic @jaxsmutsuo @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @khoicesbyk @shewillreadyou @lisha1valecha @lovablegranny @mrswalkers-blog @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @no-one-u-know @ntoraplayschoices @princessleac1 @ritachacha @secretaryunpaid @sirbeepsalot @speedyoperarascalparty @shanzay44 @texaskitten30 @txemrn @queenrileyrose @briefdreamlanddream @sfb123 @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @aestheticartsx @yourmajesty09 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @drakewalkerfantasy @els31 @rainbowsinthestorm @darley1101 @the-soot-sprite @ladyangel70 @rafasgirl23415 @anotherbeingsworld @callmeellabella @msjr0119 @walker7519 @ofpixelsandscribbles @cocomaxley @lodberg @jared2612 @gnatbrain @cmestrella @queenjilian @iaminlovewithtrr @marshmallowsaremyfavorite

#pixelberry #playchoices #the royal romance #trr fandom #trr #twinkleallnight #drake walker #olivia nevrakis #king liam

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