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foreverdolly · 6 months

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ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 2 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.

word count: 4.5k

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Legs tangled in gray sheets. The lightning-quick flash of a silver dagger, held by a pale hand.

The images in the dream are more like fragments- impossible to discern and decipher. On the bed, asleep and vulnerable. . .

There’s you.

And then Feyd wakes up, heart hammering in his chest so hard he can feel it in his throat. Slowly his fingers crawl up, up, up the expanse of the bed in search of something. In search of warmth, of you. Nothing. He’s just as alone in his room as he was when he drifted off into sleep. He lays awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning with worry.

This dream felt more like a warning than just another disjointed nightmare. It felt real. He was used to having dreams every now and again which clearly depicted a future outcome. He saw you in his dreams quite often, more so once he was no longer a boy-child.

If someone thought to hurt you… he’d just have to hurt them first.

The customs you and your people practiced were completely different to those that were normal on Geidi Prime. You watched one of your ladies-in-waiting as she brought over another small bowl of sweet smelling bath salts, dumping it in and using her hand to properly dissolve them. For a moment you felt self conscious, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at their perfect complexions and shaved heads. What did they see when they looked at you? Someone beautiful and strange. . . or an alien?

Still, you would eventually have to disrobe and bathe. Pressing your luck and refusing their help would only solidify your place as an outsider. You were sure that whispers of your arrival were already spreading like wildfire, and it was almost guaranteed that no one was happy about it. An Atreides amongst Harkonnen’s? You were nothing more than a pariah on their industrial wasteland of a planet.

The air was even more acrid in your lungs than it had been the night before, and while the smell of the rose body oils and salts were thick and hazy in your room, you could still catch the scent of pollution. Already you missed the cool, crisp air of Caladan. You missed your horses, your parents and your brother to the point of pain. This was not where you belonged. Not here in Geidi Prime. Not here with Feyd-Rautha.

The urge to cry yourself hoarse was practically undeniable, and yet you somehow managed to resist. You were late to breakfast already, and surely the Baron was making some unsavory comments about your family and their taught “manners”. So you untied the front of your nightdress and shimmied out of it, letting the soft cotton pool at the ground beneath your feet. The women couldn’t help but gawk at the tiny imperfections they saw there- a beauty mark you’d had since you were a child, a scar you’d received while training with Gurney. You weren’t used to feeling so self conscious, and so you were quick to grab one of the women’s extended hands so that you could sit down in the murky bath water.

They rubbed floral smelling soaps into your hair and on your skin, making sure to handle you as though you were as fragile as porcelain. You wished they would scrub you raw. Even then they wouldn’t be able to cleanse you of your fears. You were in the hands of the Harkonnen’s now.

No one could save you.

“We are not very used to styling hair, my lady. It might not be to your liking.” One of the women said anxiously. The way that her hands shook as she gripped the hairbrush was not lost on you.

How cruelly were they treated here? Or even worse- what did she think of the Atreides family? What lies had they poisoned these people’s impressionable minds with? You didn’t care to dwell too much on such thoughts. Reaching out you gently removed the brush from her hands, flashing her the kindest smile you could muster before shaking your head.

“Leave this to me then. Why don’t you pick something for me to wear from my things?” Your bags were still packed, lying exactly where a few servants had laid them last night. You had denied every offer to have them unpacked for you.

Denial. You refused to believe that you were actually stuck here. This would never be your home. It couldn’t be.

“He’s not here,” Feyd was sitting at a long, slate-gray table by himself. The food on his plate had barely been touched, but he had busied himself with chopping the meat up into miniscule pieces, too small to even fit on the prongs of his fork. “If you were planning on trying to make a good impression, you can forget about it. He always has his food sent to his quarters.”

You thanked the two ladies that had shown you through the colorless halls under your breath, moving to sit on the other side of the table. At least eight chairs separated you from the Na-baron and it still wasn’t enough. You wished you were on an entirely different planet, lightyears away from the Harkonnen scum.

The room was practically empty aside from the large dining room table. No art decorated the walls or rugs to cover the floor. It was all cold, black marble with white accents.

“I don’t care, actually.” And you were being truthful. You didn’t care about getting on the Baron’s good side any more than you cared about getting on Feyd’s.

He smiled then, staring at you long and hard before licking one of his black painted canines. He was amused by the blase way you brushed off his uncle so easily. Indifference wasn’t something he was used to, especially not when everyone in the galaxy had tried so hard to get on their good sides. People tended to tread lightly as far as the Harkonnens were concerned. They were as wealthy as they were cunning.

“Be careful, little Atreides. Saying things like that might get you hurt around here.” His gruff voice was but a whisper now, and suddenly you felt as though there weren’t twelve feet of dead-air separating the two of you.

You had picked up your fork, ready to eat whatever bland food had been prepared for you, but froze at his words. Heat rose to your cheeks and you were quick to lean back in the ornate high-backed chair, the cool iron seeping into your back through your clothes.

“Do you mean to threaten me?” Your words were icy, tongue sharp and ready to give him a proper lashing.

“It’s not a threat, darling.” He was practically purring, reveling in the joy of referring to you whilst using a pet name. It suddenly looked as though a switch had been turned on, his eyes narrowing on you. “I know him far better than you do. He’s killed people for far less. Be careful.” There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling you. There was genuine warning in his tone.

A pause.

“Please.” And then he went back to eating.

So were you supposed to act gutted at his uncle’s absence? You picked up the fork and took a bite of whatever had been put on your plate. It wasn’t at all what you were used to. Even the food tasted. . . fake. The meat tasted like it had been pumped full of chemicals and was mealy in your mouth, like sand. Still, you swallowed despite your distaste and shoved the plate away from you.

“Who have you assigned to be my sparring partner? I’m sure that my father made your uncle aware that I train daily, correct?” If you didn’t physically exert yourself and blow off some steam then you were bound to get no sleep tonight.

Last night you had tossed and turned, unable to stay asleep when your body was constantly alerting you to possible dangers. Even now you were on high alert, eyes locked on the knife that sat on the right side of Feyd’s plate. Your own fingers danced towards yours it you watched. Waited. Worried.

“Training?” He tilted his head again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. You could almost see the cogs turning as he mulled over your words. “What good would training do you now? If there are any threats then I am here to protect you- that’s my duty as your husband.”

Ah, yes. Why would a woman train when she could just sit back and play the part of a perfect little wife instead? You could spit.

“Would you rather I just hunt down one of your servants and kill him for sport?” You hated that he was so good at getting a reaction out of you. Maybe you were acting too much like a brat, but you wanted to see him squirm. Seeing him mad must be better than seeing him. . . like this.

For a second he sat there, arms perched nonchalantly over the armrests of his chair, staring at you with a crooked smile. You jumped in surprise when a chuckle escaped him, the act itself so out of place, so surprising that all you could do was stare in horror. The chuckles soon morphed into frenzied laughter, and he was quick to lean back in his seat so that he could place a hand on his chest.

“Was that funny to you?” You spoke through gritted teeth.

He watched the muscle in your jaw clench and unclench with wild eyes, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes of calming himself. Still, to hear such a beautiful woman speak such hideous words. . . it was wonderful, bordering on perverted.

“If you do kill a servant, please make sure I’m there to watch.”

He was too busy watching your face to notice the knife that you slid into the sleeve of your dress. With a huff you stood up, your skirts dryly brushing along the ground as you started to make your way out of the large room.

“I require a trainer.” You tried to mimic your mother’s tone, straightening your shoulders as you turned to look at him.

Lady Jessica always had a way of commanding a room. She was powerful, your mother. You needed to channel that same power now.

“You’ll train with me then,” He stood up from the table, the height and build of him alone nearly causing you to take a step back. You’d forgotten how large he was. How formidable. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

This had you balking, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of some way to refuse. He was already stalking past you though, ignoring whatever retorts you were bound to make.

“I recommend getting changed. . . Unless you want me to tear that dress to shreds.”

That awful, ugly, no good-

“Bastard!” You whispered under your breath, wadding up your dress just to angrily toss it onto your bed.

You sank to your knees, braiding your fingers into your hair so that you could give it a few good yanks. He was doing this to fuck with your head. All of this was calculated on his part, it had to be. Was it all just to get a rise out of you? Or did he truly want to try and hurt you? You couldn’t figure him out, and that boiled your blood. All Harkonnens were cunning, blood thirsty schemers. You wouldn’t put it past him to be unhappy with the marriage arrangement, choosing to resort to violence in order to end things.

‘Now. Now is the time to strike.’

You’d already hidden the blade under the mattress of the bed. The Baron wouldn’t allow you to live if you killed his precious nephew, but you’d much rather put up some sort of a fight than be put down like a dog. After taking a few steadying breaths you somehow managed to pull on your trousers and shirt, your mind plagued with dangerous, dangerous thoughts. If the moment called for it you were certain that you could not kill Feyd in hand to hand combat. His skills with a blade was well known across the galaxy, and while you were more than able to defend yourself, you weren’t delusional enough to think that you could manage to beat him without using underhanded tactics.

You’d have to wait until his guard was lowered.

“Do all women take this long to get ready?”

You hadn’t heard the door open, nor his footsteps approaching. Who knew how long he had been watching you. The intrusion was an unwelcome one. You looked up to glare at him, trying hard not to balk at his appearance. The clothes he wore were skin tight, a black material that caught the dim lighting- like it was made of pitch black oil. His pants were tucked into big black boots, laced up high on his calf.

He stretched his arms up, leaning against the doorframe so that he could continue his awkward staring.

He did a lot of that it would seem. Any time you turned your head to face him you found that he was already looking in your direction. It was odd. . . off putting to say the least. Of course you couldn’t know that he was currently tracing the lines of your face with his eyes, committing every detail to memory. You were so different when he compared you to the females that he was used to seeing. You were all soft lines, long lashes and doe eyes. He found it impossible not to look at you. Gorgeous… you were gorgeous.

“It took me a while to get out of my dress on my own.”You shoved your way past him in the doorway, his chest warm under your palms.

You were quick to jerk away, startled by the fact that this was the first time that you’d touched him since the two of you had reunited.

You didn’t hate the feel of him, but you should have.

“Then you should have asked for some help.” He said, reaching out to grab you by the back of your shirt when you started to walk off in the wrong direction.

Feyd pulled you along like he would a pet on a leash through the triangular halls, ignoring your mumbled curses as you tried swatting him away.

The shield vibrated in your ears as you switched on the button, enveloping you in its warmth.

You used to find it uncomfortable as a child, the tight, foreign warmth triggering a mild case of claustrophobia. You were used to it now, wearing it like a second skin. You waited for Feyd to turn his on as well, the blade clutched tight in your palm.

You waited. And waited. And waited.

“Where’s your shield?” You asked him, motioning towards his hip with your free hand.

There it was, that crooked smile again. He was laughing at you. Was he trying to infer that you were weak? Was he so confident in his skills that he didn’t even see you as a threat?

“I don’t see the nee-” He didn’t get very far.

You kicked your leg out, catching the back of his right knee. His legs buckled, and he was quick to adjust himself, his left arm flying up to catch your wrist before you could sink the blade home. For a split second the two of you just stared at each other. Mild shock in his eyes, your own alight with an anger so consuming that you feared you might be burnt up with it. He gave your arm a sharp tug, hard enough that the joint rolled uncomfortably in its socket.

You kicked your leg out before he could throw you over his shoulder, landing a sharp blow to his ribs. You heard him let out a pained moan before you hit the ground. Using your weight to your advantage, you tucked your body in, rolling to the side so that you could easily stand up to your knees, blade poised at your side and ready for an attack.

“You fight well, Atreides.” Feyd purred, spinning his blade between two fingers before letting it fall back into his pale palm.

“Turn on your shield.” You growled, rising to your full height so that you could begin circling him, a panther ready to pounce.

“Was it Duke Leto that trained you?” Still, he was ignoring your statement.

“No.”

“No, of course it wasn’t him,” He took a step closer to you, eyeing you down. No one had looked at you like that before. . . and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to be desired by this man, the thought alone was miserable enough to have bile rising in your throat. “Your father is too weak-spirited to ever train you himself, lest he accidentally harm you.”

Your heart was beginning to pound in your ears now, vision tunneling. All you could see was Feyd. All you could imagine was the blade that you were currently white-knuckling sunk hilt deep into his chest.

“How horrible it must be for Caladan to have a Duke so. . . spineless.”

You bared your teeth, and for a second you were sure that you would snap the hilt in half with how hard you were gripping your blade. You demanded blood for such an insult. How dare he. How dare he.

“I should cut out your tongue!” You screamed, pointed the blade at him.

‘Don’t come any closer’ you urged with your eyes, feeling the angry tears causing your vision to fog. A Harkonnen was insulting your father. He was insulting your family and now he was smiling at you. The bastard had the gall to smile and this time all of his teeth were showing. Wide, unabashed in his joy. He was terrifying. So much so that you felt your legs begin to shake underneath you.

“But you’ll want to put this tongue to good use eventually.” His gravelly voice purred.

“Silence!” And before you could even control yourself you were using the Voice.

You might not be as talented as your brother when it came to hand to hand combat, but your mother had taken the time to teach you well. Feyd’s mouth snapped shut so hard that you heard his teeth clatter together.

“One more word and I will gut you.” Your voice shook and before you could rethink your actions you were lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air. . .

Aimed at his throat.

He was quick to push your arm away with his forearm, and even with the shield up you could feel the bone shattering pressure he put behind the movement. He was stronger than Paul- stronger than even Gurney. He took advantage of the fact that you were put off balance and grabbed a fist full of hair, the shield around you flashing red as he pressed his blade as close as he could to the base of your throat. Your scalp exploded in pain, eyes watering as he gripped harder to yank your head back so that you were staring directly into his eyes. They held no malice towards you, even despite the fact that you were obviously trying to maim him.

And then he leaned in closer. And closer.

“If I didn’t know any better then I would think that you were actually trying to kill me.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. You could practically feel the warmth of his lips against your skin as he spoke, your heart roaring in your ribcage. With your chests practically touching like this you could smell him.

You’d only caught the scent of spice once in your life- and it was akin to bitter cinnamon. There was something else though, something more complex to it. Aromatic spices you couldn’t quite put your fingers on and. . . the natural musk of his skin.

“So you can speak again?” You managed to tease him through your pain, wincing as he brought you even closer against his chest. The blade that you clutched in your hand was now pressing against his side, the pointed edge digging into his skin.

He didn’t wince, even when you put more pressure against it.

“You think it wise to use the Voice on me in my own home, little girl?” He hissed as he pulled away from your ear, and the fire that was in your eyes was now mirrored in his own.

Slowly you moved the blade away from him, the metallic clanging echoing around the room as you let it fall to the floor. Your palm hurt from the vice-like grip you had been holding it in.

“Release me now.” You didn’t shy away from staring into his eyes, unwavering even when he pressed the blade even tighter, the shield vibrating louder and louder around you.

He leaned in, even when your hands moved to press against his chest, willing him to give you space. You could barely breathe with him this close to you. His own knife clattered to the ground, and using his free hand he ripped the shield from off of your hip. The gasp that escaped your lips was uncontrollable. You could feel his breath on your lips as his eyes continued to swallow you up whole.

They looked even bluer when you were up close like this, framed by long black lashes. For a split second you wondered what had become of that beautiful little boy you had met. Had Baron Vladmir beaten the beauty out of him? Or perhaps it had never truly been there to begin with.

When Feyd looked at you, up close like this, all he saw was the object of his ever-present affections. Something yawned to life in his chest- the need to protect. All at once he felt wrong, disgusting and horrible for causing you any sort of pain.

But you looked so lovely with those tears in your eyes. So much so that he gave your hair another small yank, a shuddered breath escaping his lips as you yelped in pain. He saw the hate in your eyes and he detested it.

‘Fear me’ he silently urged. ‘Love me, do as I say and I will become your slave.’

His lips brushed against yours, achingly slow- painfully soft.

“I yield.” You were quick to say, pulling as far back as you could even with the grip he had on your hair.

Fire. Your scalp felt like it was on fire.

And then he released you, taking a step back with a heaving chest. The spell now broken, it felt like the world around you suddenly resumed its orbit. Wordlessly he pressed a hand to his side- the side that you had pressed the knife- and when he pulled it away you could see that it was stained with blood.

“Didn’t you say that you were going to gut me?” There was no hint of humor in his voice now.

“I wanted to.” You conceded.

“Then you should have tried harder.”

Again you lay in bed awake, unable to fall asleep. You told yourself that it was just homesickness that had you clinging to the blankets, but you knew better. What had happened today left you rattled and confused.

There were a hundred times today that Feyd could have killed you. Everything that Gurney had ever taught you had disappeared like smoke in the wind the second that your father was mentioned. You had acted on instinct alone.

And if it was an actual fight to the death then you would have lost. Miserably.

There was something strange about it though. It never once felt like an actual training session. He taught you nothing and gave you no feedback. Not only that but. . . it never felt like he actually wanted to damage your pride. He didn’t turn on his shield before and after taunting you, almost as though he actually wanted one of your attacks to land.

He had allowed you to get everything out of your system. You hated that it had worked. It wasn’t helping you to sleep tonight though. No, you had other things on your mind now.

Like the fact that he had almost kissed you.

Your knowledge was limited where men were concerned, but you were nearly positive that there was something sexual about the way that he had treated you. It was like he didn’t want to actually hurt you, but still went out of his way to touch you.

You’d be sure to ask for someone that might be willing to train you again tomorrow over breakfast. Someone who wasn’t Feyd, preferably. Lunch and dinner had been spent in silence on your part tonight. He had tried to strike up conversation a few times, even baiting you in ways that might warrant annoyance and anger. You didn’t budge. Why? Because you hated how nervous you felt in his presence now.

Was it because you were afraid of him? That had to be it. Hearing about his proficiency in fighting and seeing it first hand were two different things. He had practically swung you around like a ragdoll. It was absolutely humiliating.

Yes, that had to be it. . . well, you hoped.

“Atreides.”

The sound of your name had you bolting up into a sitting position, willing your eyes to adjust to the non-existent lighting in the room. The sound of footsteps had your heart jumping up into your throat, adrenaline flooding your system once you realized that it wasn’t a voice that you recognized.

No one had entered the room since you’d gotten back from dinner, which meant. . .

Whoever this was had been hiding, waiting until you completely lowered your guard. You were in danger. Horrible, horrible danger.

‘Be careful. Please.’ You remembered Feyd’s words from earlier.

He had been trying to warn you.

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ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

@elf-punk @shitfuckeryclownverse @mydarlingelvis @heartarianagran @ohdearmaggie @chalametism @killingboredom @obsessedvibee @avidreader73 @softboo @tedcruzumakii @luminnara @narniansmagic @torchbearerkyle @ziggy-stardust-world @tian-monique @adoxra @zz-snow-zz @tiredsleepyhead @icontrolthespice @itsparksjoyhuh @verveta345 @shegatsby @zae5 @ertepla @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @lotus-888 @meetmeatyourworst @moonchild-artemisdaughter @abswifey @flower-frog @auroranodyssey @forgedfromthestars @moony-artemis @juliskopf @moonsoulk @serrendiipty @atrxidxs @the-ruler-of-death @mintoblobo @just-pure-trash @randominterwebthings @springholland @so-dramatic1 @ashy-kit @aslutforscarletwitch99 @sofia-013 @gamorxa @ricecakeslove @alexandrainlove @selfishlittlebeing @ceres27

the wonderful line “fear me, love me. do as i say and i will become your slave” is from the movie “the labyrinth”!

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune x you #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha fic #austin butler fic

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sfznyxio · 22 days

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❝ 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 ❞

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. saving twins from getting killed who turn out to be rulers of the celestia kingdom isn’t part of the plan. neither is being instated as a member of the royal guard as their gratitude. with the alarming increase of assassinations, you’re wary of everyone in the castle. who is your ally or enemy, or who will be the one to capture your heart?

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. albedo, arataki itto, dainsleif, diluc, eula, jean, kaedehara kazuha, kaeya, kamisato ayato, sangonomiya kokomi, tartaglia, thoma, xiao, zhongli

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. gn!reader. royal au. fluff. 1.3k words. rewrite of within these castle walls [i] at my old main blog @/verxsyon. inspired by fire emblem: three houses. mentions of assassination attempts which many of them failed. assassination attempt (tartaglia). seduction (sangonomiya kokomi).

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐀. can't believe it's been two years since i wrote wtcw. time flies by really fast. i miss this series so much. will i rewrite for the other parts? no, because respectfully, they suck oof. initially, wtcw was supposed to be one part so here it is lol.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ALBEDO

a noble descended from a lineage of alchemists. albedo prefers to stay at home to tend to his research and to avoid social interactions. in spite of believing that relationships are bothersome, he’s only interested in you. as an attempt to create a friendship, he brings you flowers which one of his books suggested. he becomes self-conscious that his efforts may not be sufficient, you appear happy when thanking him and complimenting his thoughtfulness. for a split second, an awkward smile graces upon his lips.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ARATAKI ITTO

a mercenary of oni blood. infamous in his hometown for causing trouble with the authorities with his gang. itto is a popular figure because of his “dashing” looks and abrasiveness. his overconfidence is one reason why you can’t stand him. you never met someone this unbearable. he always disturbs your training by challenging you to a duel, lots of them. comes determined to win the match, but loses every single time. perhaps you’ll indulge him once more, just to see what happens when he finally will be victorious.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. DAINSLEIF

captain of the royal guard and royal advisor to the throne. assassination threats have been circulating throughout the kingdom, so he constantly puts his guard up even though you saved the twins. it’s the fact that they trust a complete stranger with battle experience who can kill them any time. nevertheless, he takes you under his wing in accordance with their wishes. his paranoia is understandable, but you believe he’s too harsh on you. he assigns you extra work to prove your worth as an asset. you hope you’ll survive the initiation process.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. DILUC

head of house ragnvindr, tycoons of the wine industry. everyone swoons over the flame-haired man. one of the girls at the flower shop can’t stop talking about diluc like a knight in shining armor. your opinion of him is that you don’t get the hype. politics are supposedly not that important to him, but it’s a whole different story when the royal guard is involved, opposing their operations. it’s suspicious that his comments align with a vigilante who wears a ridiculous costume at night. for sure, you think he deserves respect to protect the place called home.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. EULA

exiled daughter of house lawrence, the clan with a tarnished reputation. the twins are gracious enough to grant eula a position of a royal soldier, upsetting the majority of citizens. you admire her dissociation with her clan’s history, wishing everyone sees her past that. she doesn’t deserve hate for something that is beyond her control. you want to befriend her, but her sense of humor is unique in a way that it kind of gives you chills down your spine. if it makes you feel any better, she likes you for seeing her as herself.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. JEAN

head of house gunnhildr. jean dedicates her life to serve the kingdom, to the point where she tends to overwork. more worried about the state of the state more than her own health, she doesn’t know how to reconnect with her younger sister and what romance feels like out of the romance novels she reads. as someone who spends most of their life in one place, you sympathize with her, therefore offering to solve her dilemma. after all, both of you need breaks from interfering with assassinations. she is confused as to why she feels warm when you’re around.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

a former refugee from an insular empire. upon entering the kingdom a few years ago, kazuha was thought to be an assassin which he of course got arrested for, but was pardoned and given the option to live here and serve the crown. in the present, he patrols the seas to fend off intruders. at the end of the shift, he disappears from his crew just to find you. his captain knows that he is smitten with the soldier who was trained as a mercenary. the poems he recites at sea are essentially confession letters in hopes to make you his one day.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KAEYA

a fellow royal soldier adopted into house ragnvindr. the elderly consider kaeya like their own grandson, but he is so far from angelic. he misleads patrollers to another direction of the crimes and dodges your questions regarding his whereabouts. the citizens might be involved in his antics, avoiding eye contact with you whenever you mention him. apparently, you’re dense, failing to notice the signs of him trying to make a move on you. he’s been doing those things to make you pay attention to him and have you all to himself in private.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KAMISATO AYATO

head of house kamisato. responsible for managing external affairs, ayato is required to travel, always away for business. although it’s said he goes on trips most of the time, his appearance is a mystery. rumored to be tall with blue hair and a mole near his mouth, everyone joins in the hunt to find him at the royal party, sending his sister and retainer in a frenzy to protect his identity. your dance partner fits the description to a t. when the guests discover that you were dancing with the commissioner, your partner kisses your hand and whisks away into the night.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. SANGONOMIYA KOKOMI

head of house sangonomiya. kokomi is also its military strategist. having the ability to foresee the tactics and its outcomes of another army, she is a force to be reckoned with and a valuable ally to the crown. you had the pleasure of being invited to her guest room, where she was waiting for you in an extremely thin nightgown. not the type to show emotions, it’s rare to see her amused, and she beckons you to come inside. not only is she well-versed in the art of war, she’s surprisingly an expert in the art of seduction as well.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. TARTAGLIA

a diplomat from a neighboring kingdom, or so he claims to be. there is something about childe that sets him apart from the other diplomats who visited the kingdom. your first encounter with him is not pleasant. a mutual distrust forms between the two of you, yet the space you both share is tense. one night with crazed eyes and a knife at your neck, he reveals that he was assigned to assassinate the twins. you’re in the way, but oddly enough, he doesn’t want to hurt you. it seems like he’s doing this against his will, or it’s the tension talking.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. THOMA

retainer of house kamisato. thoma is a fan favorite among the royal staff by being the type of servant they needed. honestly, you don’t like him. but you don’t dislike him either. the epitome of perfection, but too perfect for your taste. he’s also too nice for his own good, hearing him apologize things he isn’t at fault for and saying yes to all requests from the staff. as he serves a clan full of swordsmen, he knows how to fight. so when you unleash a surprise attack on him, he doesn’t retaliate. it reminds him of a similar incident in the past that changed his life for the worse.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. XIAO

a deity sworn to protect the kingdom centuries ago as a promise to one draconic god. xiao finds humans strange, but you’re even stranger, as a child who fought against a beast by yourself in the forest, accidentally fulfilling a commission for a mercenary group who struggled to kill it for months. he despises crowds, but decides to pose as a royal soldier to meet you. when you encounter a dangerous creature during your patrol, he comes to your rescue. then he whispers into your ear to call his name in times of desperation before disappearing into thin air.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ZHONGLI

a knowledgeable historian. zhongli is friendly and enjoys having casual conversations over tea. there isn’t anyone within the castle who has not been invited to his corner of the library. you have been there as a regular you already lost count. from those meetings, you track his mesmerizing amber eyes. you swear that you’ve seen them in some history books of a draconic deity who once presided over this kingdom. it’s impossible, as higher beings perished during the cataclysm, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise.

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rveyjules · 1 year

Text

A Second Chance

Pairing: RE6!Leon Kennedy x Prime Minister's Daughter! Reader (ft. Ada Wong)

Genre: Smut, Romance, Angst

Warning: cheating, Leon is obsessed with the reader, stalking, taking photos, the reader is cold but deep inside she’s a sweetheart, mentions of arranged marriage, pure smut (mentions of masturbation, foreplay, kissing, breasts fondling and sucking, markings, p in v intercourse, virgin sex, penetrative sex, Leon is huge [I think it's at least 9 inches, sheesh], creampie, aftercare)

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: As the eldest daughter of the Prime Minister and one of the faces of the family, you received multiple assassination attempts. So, your father hired someone to keep an eye on you. And to your surprise, out of all people, it was Leon Kennedy your father picked for you. You and Leon had a secret relationship but soon did not last because another woman came into his life. Now that the both of you meet again, will it be the start of chaos or a continuation of romance?

author's note: This story is entirely fictional. I do not know what the President and the Prime Minister exactly do for the country. Same with the occupation of being a prosecutor and the chief of the CIA. English is not my mother tongue so pardon if you encounter mistakes and grammatical errors. This is only for entertainment purposes only. And minors, please do your homework first.

—

It all started when you had an assassination attempt for the fifth time. Being the only daughter of the Prime Minister isn’t easy. The more your father becomes powerful, the more assassination attempts you receive because if the opponent can't attack the Prime Minister, their target will be his family and pick the most treasured and precious gem of his life, his daughter.

"The President will help to capture those bastards who tried to kill you." Your father spoke, looking at you, who was fixing the files from the CIA.

"Papa, this is the fifth time you told me that. All the men you hired to guard me ended up being fired."

"Because they failed to protect you," The Prime Minister replied in a strict fatherly tone. "This time, it was the President who recommended this agent to keep an eye on you."

"I hope he wouldn't think that I am being a spoiled brat and a baby when he found out that I am a prosecutor." You chuckled, shaking your head a little.

"Yes, you are a prosecutor. Not just a simple prosecutor. You are one of the most powerful prosecutors in the Supreme Court. You have access to every government agency as the Chief of the CIA. So, it’s quite understandable that those people who tried to eliminate you were not just because of me but because you are one of the most influential people in politics.”

You sighed and gave him a small smile. Your father has been stressed out with international political stuff plus your assassination attempt. And speaking of the President, both of them are best friends and they climbed the political ladder together. The President is personally closer to the Prime Minister than the Vice President. That’s why when you survived your fifth assassination attempt, it was the President who was one of the first people that paid a visit to check on you.

“Alright, I’ll accept whoever the President has to recommend to guard me. But Papa, I don’t want to be guarded all the time. You know what I mean. I need some private time.” Your father nodded in agreement.

“I understand. I’ll call the President.” With that, he walked out of your office and was escorted by his bodyguards as he walked down the hallway of my office.

—

“I heard our dads having a conversation about your assassination attempt. Are you sure you’re okay?” Your friend, Ashley asked in a concerned tone on the other line of the call.

“Yeah, I am fine. The assassin must have poor eyesight.” You laughed but Ashley only sighed.

“You’re still joking around as if you weren’t stunned when you barely dodge the bullet. By the way, my dad recommended the man who saved me from Spain. You haven’t heard about him, have you? Because you have three cases to finish.” Ashley chuckled.

“The two are successful, only the rape case left. But believe me, I was so worried about you. And don’t tell me his name. I love surprises.” You grinned.

“Oh, no. Here we go again with that behavior of yours. I think you know this person. Because when I mentioned you once in our conversation, he was surprised to hear that you are the Chief of the CIA and a prosecutor.”

“Do we know each other?” I asked, confused. Ashley hummed and chuckled.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow, according to the conversation between the Prime Minister and the President.”

With that, you started critically thinking about the person. According to your father, he’s a federal agent and was exclusively picked to save Ashley from an insane cult in Spain. But why did this person seem to know you?

—

“This is Leon Scott Kennedy. Your bodyguard starting today.” Your father, the Prime Minister introduced the federal agent who saved your friend from Spain and the one the President recommended.

And for the very first time, you hated surprises. This is the worst surprise you’ve ever had. Leon looks different from before. How long has it been since the Raccoon City outbreak? Fifteen years? Leon looked at you, scanning you from head to toe. You are wearing a black tight turtleneck knee-length dress, black high heels, and simple makeup but the matte red lipstick made you look bold. Your chest and curves perfectly fit the dress you are wearing. His gaze went back to you and swiftly rolled your eyes.

“Bodyguard?” You repeated, hiding your irritation because out of all people to become your bodyguard, why this fucking bastard? Why your ex?

Your father nodded his head.

“If he saved the President’s daughter alone from a deadly cult in Spain, then he can save you from assassination attempts.”

“Papa, that guy can’t predict if there’s someone who will try to eliminate me.” You retorted and your father gave you a disapproving look.

“We agreed on this already, Y/n. And this is an exclusive decree from the President. You are one of the secret weapons of the country so for him, it is also his responsibility to take care of you.” Your father reminded you.

“I know my job, Papa! You don’t have to remind me of that! Right now, I can’t help but feel embarrassed of myself that the Chief of the CIA needed to be guarded as if I can’t protect myself.”

“Y/n L/n!” Your father yelled, shutting you up. “For Christ’s sake, Y/n! Just for once! I am trying to protect you but you wouldn’t listen! And for the first time, you despised the man we selected to keep an eye on you. I mean, what’s wrong if this guy keeps an eye on you?”

His question made you pause. Your father must never know the reason why the hell you hated Leon so much. Even thinking about it makes your heart break. So, you looked down and replied against your will to not make this worse.

“Alright. End of discussion.”

Your father scoffed at your sudden change of mood and aura. He had never seen you glare and roll your eyes at the agents he picked to protect you. You are warm to the four guards who used to protect you. It was he who fired them when an assassination attempt occurred and those men failed to protect you. But now, he sees nothing but the fire of rage in your eyes when he introduces Leon to you as your bodyguard.

“Y/n, what the hell is wrong with you?” He asked.

“I accepted him already, Papa! Don’t ask me such questions again. Just fire him the moment someone fired a gun on me while he was nowhere to be found. Just like what you did to my former bodyguards.” You replied, turning your back on him so that he couldn’t see the tears forming in your eyes.

And then, the Prime Minister’s phone rang. He accepted the call and there was silence in the room so that he could have a proper conversation with the caller. After a few seconds, he hung up and looked at you.

“I need to go. They need me to discuss something in the White House.” He announced and you gave him a nod without sparing him a glance.

When your father left, you turned around and faced Leon who was looking at you the whole time, realizing that you are not the young girl he left for another woman back then. It’s true, he thought. You are no longer naive, eyes full of anger with the mess he made fifteen years ago.

“You changed, Y/n. After fifteen years…” Leon started which made you smirk.

“Unlike that woman who’s still manipulative. Bet you didn’t last.” You straight-forwardly rebutted and headed over to your desk. You sit on your executive leather chair and cross your legs as you rest your back against the backrest.

“Tell me, what’s your motive?” You asked sharply.

“It was the President who recommended me to the Prime Minister.” He replied but you shook your head in disapproval.

“You can decline but you didn’t. There must be a reason why you accepted the offer. The government needs you to save the country from bioweapons but here you are, standing in front of me as my bodyguard.”

“Well, I am protecting the country’s secret weapon so I think it’s considered. Besides, the President and I agreed that I will still work as a federal agent of DSO while guarding the Prime Minister’s daughter.”

Well, he has a point. You hummed in satisfaction with his answer and opened a file and checked the documents regarding the case you are currently in. There was a silence between you and Leon couldn’t help but feel your anger behind your calm expressions. No matter how much you tried to not make this personal, the pain he gave you makes it difficult for you to calm your nerves.

But Leon decided to give it a try…

“Ada and I were not in a relationship… or even on good terms.” He stated, causing you to grin.

“Not interested. Besides, you are nothing to me.”

You can feel that your words affected him but you don’t care. And there’s an awkward silence again until you receive a call from the Chief Prosecutor. At least it saved you from the uncomfortable feeling of being with your ex. You stood up and kept your documents in the proper places and grabbed your handbag.

You walked to the door but Leon moved faster to open the door for you. You ignored his presence and walked out of your office to the ground floor. Leon tailed behind you until you came out of the law firm’s building and your driver pulled up the car in front of you. Before Leon can move, you open the door for yourself and get inside the car.

Leon paused for a moment and shook his head and was about to get inside the front seat but you rolled your windows down and said…

“I do not allow my bodyguard to come to join me in my car so go join my other guards in the other car.” Leon scoffed and retorted back. “According to the Prime Minister, I shall join you in every vehicle you are going to ride.”

“Are you working for the Prime Minister or me?” You sarcastically asked.

He didn't want to make further arguments so he sighed and just obliged. You rolled your windows up and your driver drove away to your destination.

—

It was now nighttime. You and Ashley decided to hang out in a fancy bar in the city. You are staying in the VIP Room while your bodyguards are staying outside of the room, securing the area. You two are regular customers of the bar and the owner doesn’t mind if you two brought a bunch of bodyguards for safety purposes.

So here you are, sipping a glass of whiskey with your legs crossed and back against the backrest of the leather couch as you stare into nowhere in the room. It has been two weeks since your father hired Leon as your bodyguard. Having him around you during those days felt like being chained up again to your past.

“Hey, you’ve been staring at nowhere. Are you even listening to me?” Ashley’s voice snapped you back to your senses. You hummed and took the last drop of the whiskey before putting the glass down and pouring yourself another shot.

“You rarely drink whiskey, Y/n. What’s wrong?” She asked and you didn’t reply to her. Instead, you pulled a cigarette and put them between your lips, and lit them up before huffing out a smoke.

“Knew it. Something’s wrong. Was this because of your new bodyguard?” She asked and you hummed, huffing out another smoke.

“Tell me, Ash. Do you think my life right now would be different if I asked you his goddamned name before we met?” You asked.

“Why do you ask?” She asked too while you breathed out another smoke and sipped on your glass of whiskey.

“Because I could’ve stopped Dad from hiring him! That bastard has been getting on my nerves for the last two weeks.” You hissed.

Like your father, Ashley asked the same question. “What’s wrong if my dad recommended him and your father hired him to be your bodyguard? Y/n, Leon is one of the top agents in the country. He saved many lives and protected the country from bioweapons. And this is the first time you despised your bodyguard. You weren’t this cold to your former bodyguards until Leon came.”

There was another pause as you finished your cigarette and put it on the ashtray and drank your whiskey. Ashley continued, “Was I right? Do you two know each other?” She asked and you hummed again as the response. Even responding to her is difficult, especially when you're talking about the man who ruined you.

“We used to, Ash. We used to.” You replied, chuckling to yourself as you tried to stop your tears from falling. Ashley has been your best friend even before his father became the elected President of the United States of America but you don’t want her to see your vulnerable side.

“Used to? Like, he’s a part of your past?” She asked and you nodded your head.

“Worst part of my life, rather.” You sipped again, gulping the strong liquor down to your throat.

“You know, it would be nice if you would share your backstory with me. Even just the highlights, I’m sure I can understand it.”

“Ash, he’s my ex-boyfriend.” You frankly said. Ashley gasped upon hearing this from you.

She never thought that the man who saved her in Spain was your ex-lover. This is a shocking revelation for her. Ashley recalled the moments she mentioned you during her conversation with him back in 2005. Leon’s reaction was still clear in her memory when she told him that you are a prosecutor and one of the most powerful ones in the Supreme Court. He was completely surprised but then he was grinning moments later.

“No wonder why he was surprised when I mentioned your name back in 2005. How long has it been since you two broke up?”

“Since 1998. It was during the Raccoon City outbreak. After we parted ways, I never heard from him again and just focused on my studies.” You lit up another cigarette, putting the stick between your fingers and lips.

“Why did you two break up?” Ashley asked.

You paused for a moment. A lump formed in your throat and a tear slipped out of your eye. Your only way is to gulp down the whiskey in your glass. Ashley doesn’t want to force you to spill out the truth. Her point is to ease the pain in your heart. Seeing you struggling to speak is enough for her to understand that you and Leon did not have a good end.

“He’s a traitor,” You managed to speak out, taking deep breaths as you struggled to breathe.

—

Ashley had to go because her mother, The First Lady called because of curfew. She doesn't want to leave you in tears but you ushered her to leave, saying that you will be fine and enjoy the time by yourself. Ashley gave you an apologetic look before grabbing her purse, kissing your cheek, and leaving the VIP Room.

And there you are, having deep thoughts. You huffed out another smoke and groaned. You are not a menacing teenager who will do everything to get rid of Leon. That’s too immature. Ever since you graduated in Law and become a prosecutor, you promised yourself that you are no longer that young girl who’s sweet and naive. You need to be tough no matter how hard the situation is. No matter how much pressure a case gives you, you will do everything to win the trial.

Same as being the Chief of the CIA. Your hacking skills, high potential on battlefields, gunfight skills, and being a deadly agent made you reach your current position. None of the missions you had were easy. Most of them cost the lives of agents that failed to complete the mission. Only you are the last man standing. At the end of the missions, you’d always look around and see the pools of blood scattered around whether it is from your enemy or comrades. Dead bodies lay down on the bloodied ground. And now, the President takes you as the country’s secret weapon against the threat from other countries who will dare to attack.

Those events happened within fifteen years. You didn’t get enough rest. Your mind is so occupied with your job that even when Ashley was kidnapped back in 2005, you did not let your emotion take over you and continued pursuing your goals and fulfilling your responsibilities as a prosecutor and the Chief of the CIA. Leon never popped into your mind ever since. Now that he’s here again as your bodyguard, you couldn’t help but recall what pain he gave you in Raccoon City fifteen years ago.

Fifteen years ago in Raccoon City, things go wrong as you, Leon, and Ada encounter another group of survivors and now they are chasing you down to kill you. Ada, the most experienced one in fighting got shot in the leg causing her to fall to the ground. You and Leon are shooting them with your guns but he saw Ada get shot.

“Ada!” He yelled and shot those people who are after her before running to her to check on her. But there’s a guy who appeared out of nowhere and pointed his gun at Leon.

“Leon, duck!” You yelled and covered Leon with your body. A gunshot echoed around the road and you hissed in pain as the bullet hit you on your arm.

You growled and reloaded your gun as fast as you could and shot the guy right in the head. You took care of the rest of the people while Leon is busy treating Ada’s injury with a small medical kit he has. After a few seconds of silence, you lowered your gun and held your injured arm to stop the bleeding. You turned around and found Leon carrying Ada in his arms.

In your view, Ada was telling Leon that she’s fine and can’t walk, even including a phrase that it was just a bite of an ant. But Leon insisted on carrying her. It makes you feel jealous. Like, you are his girlfriend while Ada is just a random FBI Agent who appeared out of nowhere and saved Leon from infected dogs. Then, why is he treating her as if you are not around? Does he even realize that he was hurting you? Does he realize that a man who’s in a relationship shouldn’t act like that around his girlfriend?

So, to not ruin Leon’s time with her and to avoid making an issue between you in the middle of a zombie outbreak, you uncovered your arm, letting it bleed. You’re wearing a black hoodie so the blood isn’t noticeable. Claire will be here soon so you can treat your wound later. You wouldn’t die if you bleed and wait for Claire, would you? With a heavy sigh, you walked away, taking the lead while Leon followed you with Ada in his arms.

Soon, you found Claire with Sherry in a safe room. She was treating Leon’s wounds too while Ada was resting in the bed. While you are looking outside through the window. It was your only way to ease the pain and jealousy you felt. That shot could have killed Leon if you didn’t cover him. That could’ve cost your life too. This isn’t the first time you felt jealous. This is the tenth time you felt this way and you hate it. You noticed how Ada acts around Leon and she usually dismisses you. If she did, it was against her will.

You are in deep thought when you hear Sherry gasp…

“Y/n, you’re bleeding! Why are you not saying anything?!” With that, you gained everyone’s attention. Claire immediately approached you and found your arms bleeding.

“How could you not say anything! You’ll die if we don't treat this immediately!” Claire scolded you, rolling up your sleeves, and gasped when he found your injury bleeding more. She grabbed all the things she needed and started treating your wound.

You gritted your teeth as Claire took the bullet out of your arm and wrapped it with a bandage. Leon approached you too and attempted to hold your hand but you declined and said, “I can manage.” And there Leon realized that something was wrong.

Until one day… you find out Ada’s secret. Upon finding out about this, anger quickly rushed down through your veins and quickly grabbed your gun and pointed it to Ada and fired multiple times but none of the bullets hit her as it was your way to catch her attention.

“Tell us the truth, Ada Wong,” You growled venomously. “Tell us who the hell are you…”

“Y/n!” Leon quickly stood between you and Ada, facing you. “Put the gun down! What the hell is wrong with you?!” He shrieked.

“That bitch is fooling around us! She told us that she was an FBI Agent when I didn’t see her record on the FBI’s server! Stay away from that traitor, Leon!” You hissed, firmly pointing your gun at Ada.

Ada did not reply but there is no hint of worry or regret in her eyes. Instead, she glared at you. She stepped in front of you, never breaking eye contact with you. She then smirked and put on a smug look on her face.

“Traitor? Seriously? If you are just a student, you wouldn’t know how to access the FBI’s server. From the very start, I’ve been helping you and Leon. I’ve saved your life a lot of time and now this is how you are going to repay me?!” Ada hissed at you.

“For an eighteen-year-old student, it’s not easy to hack the FBI. What about you, Y/n? Who the hell are you?” She turned the tables around. She takes steps closer to you as if she was challenging you.

“Don’t change the topic, Ada. You’re working under Albert Wesker, right? One of the researchers and the reasons why the hell we are here in this damn situation? Too bad, Ada. You did not pass as the best actress.”

Then, Ada attacked you at such speed. Of course, you dodged her attacks and are more trained than her regardless of your age and state in the government. You may be just a student, practicing Law but no one must look down on you or even doubt your commitment especially when you are doing this for your team’s safety. The combat between you and Ada ended when you pulled the trigger and hit her on the waist. Ada grunted and you took the opportunity to take her down.

“Y/n, enough!” Leon pulled Ada away with such care which breaks your heart more. Claire was holding Sherry who was sobbing in her embrace.

“Leon, are you defending her?” You asked, feeling betrayed. Leon put Ada to the side for a moment before pulling you away to a more private room.

“What the hell did you just do?! You know that Ada is our key point to survive this damn apocalypse!” Leon hissed at you and of course, you retorted back.

“From the very start, I did not trust that woman even a bit! It feels like she planned to cross paths with us to gain our trust and take the samples because she is working for Albert Wesker!”

“Aside from accusing her, shooting her, how did you access the FBI’s server? We have only limited devices! We even barely called for help and now we found out that you accessed the FBI just to do some stupid research on her!”

“Stupid research? I did it for our safety!” You rebutted. “Leon… I don’t understand. Why are you being so protective of her? Why are you defending her? Leon, I am your girlfriend.”

Leon sighed. “You are. But these days, it feels like we’re not together. It feels like you are different from the girl I love. I… I don’t know you anymore.” Your heart shatters as Leon said those. Tears filled your eyes, your heart pounded against your chest, and a lump formed in your throat.

You couldn’t believe that Leon was saying this to you when you just want to protect him, to protect everyone. A tear slipped out your eye and you pulled yourself away. “Are you doubting me, Leon? Do you believe that the fake agent is your girlfriend?” Then Leon snapped at you,

“Don’t call her that!”

“Then what?!” You yelled at him. “You think I don’t notice your behavior ever since she came into our lives? That you are becoming more affectionate to her than me? That you will prioritize her over me? That night when those groups of survivors chased us and tried to kill us, I saw how worried you were for her that you insisted on carrying her when she just had a shot in her leg because of her stupidity, rather than me catching the bullet for you!”

Leon was taken aback by your sudden outburst.

“If there’s someone I truly don’t know anymore, that is you, Leon. Even thinking if I should approach you for help is difficult for me because your attention was on Ada. Tell me the truth, Leon. Is there someone else? Is there someone else who captured your heart away from me?”

He didn’t reply to your question. Seeing you in this kind of situation hurts him. But he couldn’t lie to you. His silence is enough for you. With a deep breath, you turned away from him.

“I can leave, if that’s what you want. I know you very much, Leon. As a rookie police officer, you wouldn’t ride the same boat with the person you are doubting. But mark my words, Leon…” You paused but Leon interrupted you.

“You’re not leaving.” You turned to look at him and he was looking directly into your eyes. “We will survive this apocalypse together, I promise. Please, stay with us. For me….”

For his sake, you stayed. To not lose him, you swallowed your pride for him. Until one night… when you almost escape the damned city, things went wrong again. He broke his promise.

You woke up from being knocked out and there you found yourself cuffed in a chair. You looked out to the glass window and found Leon heading to the helicopter with Ada. And the sound of zombies banging outside of the room you are in made you panic even more. So, you forcefully pulled your hands off the handcuffs. You kept pulling yourself and your wrists started to bleed. Tears fall from your eyes, struggling to be free. “Leon!” You yelled and winced in pain until you successfully freed yourself. You banged against the glass to gain his attention.

He did. He looked at you who was crying, scared of death. The banging of zombies against the door gets louder and you look at Leon with pleading eyes as blood stains the clear glass that was coming from your wrists.

“Leon, don’t leave me here! Help me!” You screamed but Leon only looked at you with saddened eyes.

He had no choice but to leave you. Even if it hurts him to see you crying like a puppy, injured and terrified, there’s no other way but to leave with Ada. The woman in red noticed that Leon was looking in your direction. So, she held his hand and gave him an assuring smile.

“Leon, I know that this is hard but you need to strengthen yourself…”

What breaks your heart more is that he smiled at her before proceeding to walk to the helicopter. After connecting the dots, you realize they use you as the bait while they take the opportunity to escape. With that, anger rushed throughout your veins upon realizing that Leon just betrayed you. He betrayed you for Ada. Your hands clenched into fists while your wrists keep bleeding.

Leon gave you a last look and he saw nothing but pain and anger in your eyes as if you were cursing him for betraying you. There’s no point in turning back now. Call him selfish but he made up his mind…

And so he rides the helicopter with Ada, leaving you, scared and alone. Soon, the zombies break into the room where you are in. You ain’t going to cry and let those zombies eat you alive. On that night, you vowed to yourself that no matter what it takes, you will get your revenge on them. You used all the weapons you can use just to survive even if you’re alone.

Remembering how you struggled to survive made your eyes teary. You don’t want to be as weak as the person you used to be. That night when Leon betrayed you, another persona came into you. It made you more powerful. Having Leon back makes you feel like meeting your past self. A naive, sweet, and caring young girl who was now looking at a sophisticated, high-class, elite, and exclusive prosecutor and a superior of the country’s most powerful agency, the CIA.

You put your glass down and the cigarette on the ashtray before removing your black leather gloves and looking at the scars on your wrists that were carved on your skin. You still can feel the pain those cuffs gave you. When you survived and escaped that damned city, you started wearing gloves, not wanting to see your scars.

Anger rushed down through your veins. You grabbed the glass and threw it away with a growl, creating shattering sounds. There, you broke into tears. You rest your head against the backrest while you drape your arm over your eyes as you weep.

“I will make your life a living hell, Leon Kennedy.” You muttered under your breath before passing out.

—

Leon, who was patiently waiting for you outside the VIP Room heard a shattering sound inside. And there he found you, sitting on the couch with your head resting against the backrest with an arm draped over your eyes. He sighed in relief that you were fine.

“Is that how you throw tantrums?” He asked. You didn’t reply, not even moving from your position. Leon sighed again, realizing that you passed out.

The man approached you to pick you up but something caught his attention. Your scars. He moved closer to you and stared at your scars. It was carved around your wrists. Your skin was torn, he can tell that the cuffs he gave you back then have made you ruin your skin, desperate to escape.

Leon still remembers how you looked at him with a fire of rage in your eyes as your tears fell uncontrollably. When he looked at you during his introduction as your bodyguard, the flame was even worse behind your calm expression. The mystery of Prosecutor L/n's gloves is now finally solved.

Suddenly…

"Traitor…" Leon snapped back to his senses and looked at you. You are looking at him with hooded eyes. You stood up and grabbed your bag and gloves before walking to the door, without regretting telling him that. Because that's what he is.

—

To be continued...

1K notes · View notes

cdragons · 6 months

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I'm Yours, But You Can't Be Mine | Dark!Robb Stark x fem Knight!Reader

Summary: The Freys and the Boltons were so close in their attempt to assassinate Robb Stark and switch the tides in favor of the Lannisters. But a knight's devotion to her king should never be tested. Her loyalty always remains true, even if she breaks the heart of the man she loves in order to protect him.

Trigger Warning(s): MDNI 18+, blood, gore, graphic violence, forced abortion, violence against women, canon character deaths (not Robb or Starks), graphic smut, more hurt than comfort, Talisa is a spy (and a ho), Reader has post-murder clarity and guilt

A/N: A couple of days ago, I woke up and chose violence (emotionally and "literature"-ally) ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ. Also, Theon Greyjoy never betrayed Robb in this fic bc I said so - HOORAY! Also, if anyone can tell me how I can use different fonts in my posts, that would be great.

Walking out from the tent where the emergency council meeting was held, you steeled yourself for the information you would have to discuss with your king. With each step falling to the ground, bringing you closer to his tent, the boulder in your stomach grew more and more heavy.

“This is a bad idea,” you thought to yourself. “This is a bad idea and a mistake; he will never forgive you if you go through this.”

But you made a promise – and as Ned Stark taught you, you would keep it because it was right and honorable. Because when choosing between what is right and what is easy…you must always choose what is right.

You stopped before the two Northmen who stood outside your king’s tent as guardsmen. Their postures straightened and appeared as imposing as possible when facing you.

“Turn back, Ser (Y/N),” one guard said. “No matter how familiar with King Robb, we are on strict orders from Lady Catelyn that no one but her and Princess Arya are permitted to enter His Grace’s tent.”

“I need to speak with the King,” you spoke in your best militant and authoritative tone. “His lords and I just held an emergency council meeting to discuss House Frey’s betrayal. I need to ensure that no information is held from him.”

“Perhaps it be best you let His Grace rest,” the other guard spat out. “He had just lost his queen and future heir at the hands of Walder Frey – even if his wife was a spying, traitorous cunt sent by Tywin Lannister. We could all use some time to mourn.”

You snarled and grabbed your dagger when you saw the sigil sewn on her sheath. He belonged to House Blackwood. Your eyes softened as you recognized him as Bywin Blackwood, cousin to Lucas Blackwood, one of the four hundred casualties slain by Hosteen Frey. Taking a deep breath, you tried to appeal to their sympathetic natures.

“I concur, Ser Bywin,” you said. “But you cannot deny that time is of the essence. Three days have passed since the failed Red Wedding, and word has surely reached Tywin Lannister and the rest of the Red Keep of their failure. I fear for Princess Sansa’s life if we do not take action soon. Her well-being is entirely dependent on King Joffery and his bitch mother’s whims and wishes. The faster I can bring our king up to speed, the faster we can retaliate and bring our former liege lord’s daughter back.”

You watched them glance at one another before delivering the final blow. “And then we can all go home so that we may finally properly mourn and honor the lives lost in this war.”

They let you through, and you entered your king’s tent. Seeing your friend lying so still on his cot broke your heart. His chest was wrapped entirely in gauze and bandages, and the memory of seeing the arrows puncture his body swept chills down your back. Grey Wind sat beside him as dutifully as ever and did not even turn his head to look at you when you entered. Like his master, Grey Wind was a beast of discipline and strength. He and Robb shared the same qualities of holding the stoic appearance of a leader – even when the world around them came crumbling down. But here, at this moment, Grey Wind was neither a beast nor a leader. At this moment, he was simply the pet whose mind was running rampant with worry from fear of his dearest friend never waking up.

You held out your hand and called out his name. “Grey Wind.”

His head finally turned to face you. You often wondered if he was more man than beast, sometimes based on how soulful his eyes looked alone. You crouched on the ground and beckoned him to you.

“Come here, boy. Are you thirsty? I brought you water.”

He immediately trotted to you and showed his joy in seeing you were alive by licking your face and nudging you with his wet nose. You softly laughed at his eagerness to shower you in love while also inspecting your body to see if you were injured or carrying weapons. His body stilled, and his fur stood as he stopped to sniff the sword resting on your hip. He took a sniff and bared his teeth to let out a low growl when he recognized the scent of Talisa’s blood soaking the metal of your blade underneath the leather sheath.

You petted him and spoke in low whispers to calm him down. “It’s alright, boy. She met her end – you and I both ensured that.”

A pained voice rasped out. “I don’t suppose you got any information out of it?”

Your eyes widened at the only other voice in the room, and Grey Wind immediately returned to Robb’s side.

Tears filled your eyes as relief flooded your body. “Robb,” you sobbed out.

Before you could stop yourself, you flung yourself to hug him. “You’re alive! Oh gods – you’re alive!”

Returning your embrace, Robb held you close. “I am, and so are my mother and most of our men—all thanks to you.”

But the happy atmosphere became sour and somber when he looked down at your sword. The memory of your hands covered in his wife’s blood as you stormed into Frey’s Great Hall with the rest of his men was fresh in his mind. Fury swirled and thundered inside him as he learned he had been played as a fool by Tywin Lannister. Using one of his vassal house’s daughters as a spy while disguised as a healer so that she could seduce him was a low he never thought those fucking lions would stoop down to, but they had, and he will have their heads on spikes.

His grip on your arms grew harder. “Did she suffer?” he asked.

You looked him straight in the eyes. “Every second until she had her last breath.”

“Good,” was his only response.

“Robb,” you started. What you were about to tell him was cruel, but he needed to know. “I tore her child out from her womb…it had blonde hair.”

Robb let out a bitter laugh and clenched his fists. “So not only was she a spy, but she was also a whore.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”

You took his hand in yours. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She had us all fooled.”

Robb shook his head. “Not you. She never fooled you. You hated her the minute you saw her, and you were right, too.”

You never once hid your distrust and dislike for her from the moment she and Robb locked eyes, a distrust that only grew more intense when Robb decided to marry her, thus breaking the vow he made with Walder Frey. But despite your skepticism of Talisa Maegyr, you never suspected she was a spy under Tywin Lannister. Eventually, though, you began to trust her after observing her for countless hours.

She wasn’t a Frey girl, but she might be good to Robb. Maybe she would make him happy.

Robb tucked in a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Who would’ve thought that your natural hatred and distrust for anything pretty would come in so handy?”

“I do not hate all things ‘pretty,’” you scoffed. “I just have a natural distrust for things that seem too good to be true that happen to be pretty. Why do you think I ran away from you for so long?”

Robb smirked. “But you always trusted my father?” he chuckled.

"Ned Stark was someone who was born into privilege and knew it," you shrugged. “Besides, he was old and fat when he found me. And I didn’t think it would be useful until now.”

You thought it strange to see her leave the feast so early, claiming that she felt ill, and one of Bolton’s soldiers escorted her to her chambers. You whispered to Theon that you needed some air before quietly following them. You found them discussing how everything was set and how House Stark would fall that night. Talisa’s true name was Joy Marband, one of House Lannister’s vassal houses in the Westerlands. Tal- Joy ensured Lord Bolton that House Lannister would reward him for his loyalty to the crown. Horrified by this revelation, you rushed to where Grey Wind was locked up and freed him after slaying the guards that stood in front of his kennel.

“Grey Wind, gather the men,” you ordered. “Gather as many as possible and lead them to the Great Hall! We don’t have much time!” Grey Wind howled before doing exactly as you ordered. When he parted, you set off to find the spying whore. On your way to find her, you slew every son, guard, knight, squire, and steward that came across you.

You found her all right – found her in her chambers getting fucked from behind by one of Lord Frey’s many bastard sons. You took out your dagger and gutted him from balls to the chest before cutting off his pathetic cock. It gave you a sick amount of pleasure to see how his blood sprayed across the room – from the walls to the bed, on the traitorous cunt’s back he was fucking to on your clothes. His body went limp as a massive puddle of blood surrounded him. After watching him die, you turned your attention to her.

“Please,” she cried while clutching a blood-splattered sheet close to her chest. “Please, I am with child – Robb’s child!”

You reached out, and your hand squeezed around her throat as she tried to claw her way out of your grasp. Anger being your drive, you slammed her head against the headboard of the bed and watched as her lips turned blue from lack of air.

“Don’t you say his name,” you growled. “Don’t you EVER say his name!”

You flung her like she was a simple ragdoll as her body slammed against the stone wall adjacent to the bed. She coughed and gasped for air while rubbing her throat – the bruises were already forming. You stalked towards her before she could crawl away.

“Robb trusted you!” you thundered. “Lady Stark trusted you! The North trusted you – I TRUSTED YOU!”

You towered over her, grabbed a fistful of her umber-shaded locks, and forcefully yanked it until her face was only inches from yours. “AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU TOOK THAT TRUST AND REPAID IT WITH BETRAYAL!”

She tried to crawl away before you stomped on her hand and felt it being crushed underneath the sole of your boot. Your former queen wailed in agony from the pain that almost hid the sound of her bones cracking. The dagger you used to fill the bleeding corpse was still in your other hand, and you knelt to trace Lady Marband’s pretty face with its tip.

“W-w-what are you going to do to me?” she pathetically sniffled.

“I have – STOP CRYING! I have only one question for you,” you harshly whispered. “Did my king truly sire the child in your womb?”

“YES!” she cried out quickly…too quickly. Your jaw clenched so hard you thought your teeth would break from all the pressure.

“…Liar,” you hissed.

With nothing left to stop you, you took your dagger and stabbed it into her body. Dragging the blade until her insides were spilling out into your hands, you dug your find to find the child. Her screams howled louder than any beast at night, and you were almost worried that her wails would give away your position. But all those worries went away when you tore the fetus from her womb. Pouring water on it, you found tiny wisps of hair…straight, blond wisps of hair that more resembled the color of golden wheat than Robb’s dark, russet curls.

Hearing Grey Wind’s howl outside the window, you knew it was time. Still holding the whore’s limb and bloodied bastard in your hand, you raced to find Grey Wind. If your suspicions were true, most of the archers for House Frey were already inside the Great Hall while the feast was happening. If you didn’t hurry, you and the men Grey Wind gathered would be too late. You managed to locate him quickly and were relieved to find thousands of men behind him as he immediately trotted to your side.

“Queen Talisa Maegyr is a traitor working for the Lannisters!” you loudly roared. “She belongs to House Marband—one of their vassal houses! Tywin Lannister had sent her to spy on and seduce your king!”

You raised the dead babe high above your head for all the men to see. “The babe in her stomach is not even Robb’s! If you wish for proof, see for yourself!”

You flung its body to the nearest man. He picked it up, and you can see his eyes widen and fill with rage before confirming your words as truth.

“BLONDE!” he bellowed for all his comrades to hear. “BLONDE LIKE JOFFERY AND HIS WHORE MOTHER, HIDING IN THEIR RED SHIT-STAINED CASTLE!”

Cries and shouts of outrage and anger amongst the men. You watched with bated breath as the surge of revenge and the need for bloodshed filled their hearts. You then revealed that Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were also in a secret allegiance with House Lannister and watched as enraged spirits filled the men with enough fury to take down an army of ten thousand. The North needed something to boost morale, and here it was. You looked down at Grey Wind. He stared back into your eyes with the same loyalty he gives Robb, and you know what you must do.

With one swipe, you unsheathe your blade, ‘Purge,’ and raise it above your head as the men go silent.

You shouted before leading the charge into the keep. “COME WITH ME AND LET’S TAKE THESE FUCKING FREYS TO THEIR GRAVES!”

Grey Wind howled to the sky, and the men raised their weapons to let out their battle cries as they followed you, storming into the keep. You shouted orders for the Riverland archers to run to the upper levels to take down the Freys perched there. Your king’s direwolf raced ahead and took down any soldier that tried to cross him. By the time you and the men reached the doors leading to the Great Hall, all of Grey Wind’s face was soaked with spilled red liquid life save for his golden eyes.

You pushed the door open just in time to see Robb stagger back from the arrows piercing his chest. Just when Roose Bolton tried to deliver the final blow, Grey Wind let out a booming bark before dashing to Lord Bolton and clamping his teeth into his neck. Meanwhile, you went to where Theon was held and removed the heads of the men who were pinning him down with a single swing. You grabbed him by his doublet’s collar, yanked him to his feet, and shoved a spare sword in his hand.

“Grab Robb and his mother, and get out of here!” you ordered.

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you–”

“Dammit Theon! Don’t argue with me!” you shouted. “Just get Robb and Lady Catelyn somewhere safe!”

Theon looked at the chaos unfolding around him. “What about Queen Talisa?”

“She’s dead! I killed her!” you answered.

“WHAT?!” Theon’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

You rolled your eyes. “Tywin Lannister sent her to spy and fuck Robb – NOW, GO!”

Once you saw Theon take Lady Stark and they dragged Robb’s bleeding body to safety, you could finally focus on the fight. You focused your sights on every man who wore a Frey or Bolton sigil and didn’t stop until each one was lying at your feet. The blood spilled from each slash, stab, and chop from Purge soaked your clothes and caked your face. But it was as if a dark ritual had taken place, as their blood only seemed to empower each and every one of your attacks. Before long, it was too late for House Frey and House Bolton. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were bleeding at the Northmen’s feet, and any reinforcements called were immediately subdued and taken into custody.

As far as you were concerned, the only Frey left in the hall was Roslin—but whether she and the rest of her sisters would keep their heads after their surviving brothers would soon lose theirs didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m alive,” Robb began while cupping your cheek, “because of you. The North survived because of you. How can I ever repay you?”

You held his hand. “I didn’t save you for your gratitude, Robb. I didn’t save you so that you could repay me with titles, money, or lands. I saved you because it was my duty. I saved you because I swore to that night Joffery called for your father’s head, and we named you ‘King of the North.’ I saved you because I…”

Robb titled his head. “Because you what?”

“Don’t make me say it,” you whispered.

“Because you love me?” he softly asked. Pressing his forehead to yours, he continued. “Because I do…you know I do.”

You shook your head. “No, Robb – please. Please don’t do this to me. Don’t say things you don’t mean to make me look less foolish.”

You tried to move back and away from the man you’ve longed after for as long as you could remember. But Robb took your hands and pressed them close to his chest as he implored you to remain by his side.

“That night, after they named me ‘King of the North.’ Do you remember? We were in my tent. I told you I wanted to be alone, but you refused to leave me. I cried and lashed like a screaming child, but you never left.”

This was getting too far. This wasn’t why you came here. “Robb, you need to listen to me–”

But Robb didn’t stop talking. “You just stood there – taking it until you finally took me in your arms and held me. You didn’t say a word; you just let me cry out my pain. Like that time when we captured the Kingslayer, you held my hand when I kneeled in front of the Whispering Wood to mourn the men I lost. You didn’t speak of how brilliant I was or how the lives lost were for a good cause; you let me be me and mourn.”

“Robb–”

“That’s when I knew I loved you – that I’ve always loved you. And then, when we kissed–”

“I’m leaving,” you blurted out, “to Maidenpool tomorrow morning.”

The silence between you two seemed to echo louder than any wind that howled during the fiercest storms. Shock was the first thing on Robb’s face before complete and utter horror took over.

You may have spoken too quickly. “Well, no…technically, I and…a few other riders will be headed to Maidenpool tomorrow morning. We need to prepare a ship for your voyage to Dragonstone.”

“…What?” His voice sounded so broken that you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You combed your fingers through the stray hairs in front of your face. Then, you took a deep breath to prepare for the little speech you had prepared for this moment. This was the plan you and all lords agreed on. It was a good plan, and it was going to work. That’s all you needed to believe to convince Robb.

“Stannis is the realm’s best chance for peace. Perhaps he’s too stubborn but needs more people on his council. Your lords and I decided it was best if you traveled to Dragonstone to try and convince him to become allies with us. But you still need a few more days to recover. So, by the time you arrive at the docks, the ship will be ready. That’s why I – we’re traveling to Maidenpool… to travel to Dragonstone.”

“And after?” Robb breathily asked. His grip on you tightened in desperate hopes of keeping you close. “After we speak with Stannis, we’ll come back? You and me—we’re coming back together?”

You looked away. “You’ll be coming back…along with everyone else. But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

“But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

Robb dropped his hands as if you burned him. You were lying. You had to be – you weren’t genuinely thinking about…about leaving him.

“No,” he panted with terrified eyes. “No, no, no, please.”

You cupped his face. “Robb, please understand–”

“What’s there to understand?!” he cried out. “I love you! And you love me – and yet you’re leaving me! Why?”

“You don’t love me,” you countered. “You’re only saying you love me because you’re angry and hurt by Talisa–”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that whore,” he spat out.

You rolled your eyes. “Robb, please. You married her. You took her as your wife and nearly ruined the North because of that choice. Of course, you loved her. And, understandably, you’re lashing out because she betrayed you. But don’t lie to me and say you didn’t love her.”

“(Y/N), love,” he beseechingly thought, “you have no idea how wrong you are.”

Robb snarled like the wolf he was at your words. “I married her because I thought she was carrying my child, and I didn’t want my future heir to be a bastard.”

“Even so, that doesn’t explain why–”

You were going to hate him for what he was about to say. “Because you refused me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his shameful reveal. Robb never felt more rueful and penitent of his naivety than now. The last thing he wanted was your disgust and hatred, but he needed you to understand how long he’s loved you. He needed you to realize that you were always the one who held his heart and sanity – without you, he was nothing, as was proven by the Freys and Boltons’ betrayal.

“Robb, I…I don’t – I don’t understand,” you stammered. Your eyes showed that your mind was running amok with questions and a desperate need for clarification. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”

Robb took a deep breath and tried to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.

“That night when my bannermen named me ‘King,’ you followed me to my tent. I kept lashing at you like an angry child, but you never left my side. And then…we kissed, and it led to more. The following day, I wanted to find you – to declare my love for you fully. But every time I got near you…you turned away like I was poison. That’s why I turned to Talisa…to try to forget about you.”

Your eyes widened in horror as your chest moved up and down with shaky breaths. “You broke your vows with Walder Frey…was because of me? You bedded and married Talisa because of me? …I hurt you… a-a-and–” You let out a trembling sob. “–Oh gods, this is all my fault! I-i-if I hadn’t confused you that night–”

Robb could feel you slipping away and continued to try to tether you to him.

“No, my love,” he cooed. “You never confused me. You’re not listening to me. I’ve always loved you, even before that night.”

Robb tried to hold you close, but you harshly shoved him back and stood. He watched as tears continued to fill your eyes, and your face carried an expression that could only be described as overwhelming guilt. Robb flung the covers off him and tried to walk towards you, but each step he took closer to you made you step further back.

You stared at him with a shameful expression. “Robb, I…I was wrong to let things escalate between us. You had just been declared king and were grieving for your father, and I took advantage of your grief and vulnerability–”

Robb tenderly held your face. “No, no, no—you didn’t, though. (Y/N) That night…you gave me your love. You didn’t say it, but you gave me your love, and I gave you mine. I never regretted that night or laying with you. How you spurned my attempts to connect with you afterward—that was what hurt me the most.”

“Robb…” you sobbed his name as tears strolled down your cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted…I thought if I weren’t beside you…I’d also be protecting you from distractions from the war and your duty to the Freys – oh gods, I’m so sorry.”

You put your hand over your face. “Robb, if that night never happened…if I never followed you to your tent then…then, we wouldn’t be in this mess! All of this is my fault! Talisa, the Lannisters, the broken vow with Walder Frey – the North is more vulnerable than ever, and it’s because of me! …I mutilated a pregnant woman and murdered her unborn child.”

Robb helplessly watched as you continued to blame yourself for his foolishness. Knowing you would want your privacy, he sent Grey Wind away to guard his tent. Gods, his father would be so ashamed of him if he saw him now. He watched as you fell to the ground and began to weep out apologies to every soldier who was murdered by the Boltons and Freys at the Red Wedding.

…Lucas Blackwood…Dacey Mormont…Patrek Mallister…Robin Flint…Ser Wendel Manderly…Owen Norrey…And over three hundred other men and soldiers whose blood were spilled that night.

You even begged for forgiveness from the old gods and new ones, for the blood that belonged to Joy Marband that will forever remain on your hands, along with the stolen breaths of her unborn son.

But then the tears stopped…and an eerie calm cloaked the tent. Your eyes were red and swollen, but a spark of mad clarity was dancing in them. Very slowly, you stood with your head still bowed.

“I have to leave,” you whispered. “I have to leave and never come back. If I stay, I’ll only continue to ruin you and our cause more than I already have.”

You turned away to leave, but Robb reached out to stop you before you could take another step. He begged you to look at him, pleading for you to listen to reason before making any rash decisions. When you stubbornly refused, he grabbed your jaw and forcefully turned your head to face him. His crystal-blue eyes were wide with fear and misty from anguish. He had to make you understand that your leaving was not an option.

“(Y/N), look at me—please, love,” Robb implored. " If you leave me, I will never recover. If you dare leave my side, I will tear all of Westeros apart—leaving no stone unturned, no cave unsearched, no village left unplundered. We belong together. You and me – ruling the North, side-by-side in Winterfell. Us, together, spending every night in each other’s arms, with each morning beginning by being greeted by our children.”

He pulled your face closer until your lips were only a few inches away, and your individual breaths intermingled to become one. You want that life with him—just as he wants that life with you. So why can’t you embrace it and share it with him?

You shut your gaze from him and tried to choke down the pain. “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants. All that matters right now is what we need. What matters is how we can gather ourselves from these losses and try to form allies. And if me being here distracts you from that, then…then I need to leave.”

Robb determinedly shakes his head. “No, no – I don’t accept that.”

“Robb–” you tried to reason, but all of your pleas were cut off when he pressed his lips against yours.

And just like that – all words floated away like debris falling into a steady river.

A warm and tingling sensation ran down (Y/N)’s body as their lips met, and she closed her eyes to fully succumb to the sensation. She knew that she should have pushed him away immediately. But as Robb continued to hold her face gently to deepen the kiss, all sense of reason fled from (Y/N)’s mind when his lips moved against hers with gentle and firm urgency. In that moment, nothing mattered – not the messy past, the unstable present, or the uncertain future. At that moment, (Y/N) felt completely free of all worries and fears as Robb’s hands began to trail down to wrap his arms around her waist to hold her closer while (Y/N) wrapped her arms over his neck.

Despite the constriction of their lungs, neither wanted to part. If they could die in this embrace, then so be it. (Y/N) felt every hard, warm muscle of Robb’s body pressed against hers as they began to walk back until the back of his knees hit his cot’s edge. They tumbled onto the cot, and the fall caused Robb to fall on his back with (Y/N)’s soft and supple frame to press further against him. He slightly winced in pain, which caused the two lovers to finally part. As (Y/N) stared down at her king with a concerned expression, Robb thought an angel was with him.

He stared at her flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes with naked longing. Her (h/c) strands tumbled to form a curtain hiding their faces. Staring at the mythic beauty over him, Robb knew he wanted this with (Y/N) forever. Meanwhile, (Y/N) gently swept his curls from his face before trailing her hands down his bandaged chest to search if any wounds had been opened.

“Do you need me to stop?” she asked, her heart beating a hundred miles a minute. “You’re still healing, it might be best if we–”

“If you even think of finishing that sentence with ‘stop,’” Robb interjected. “I’ll bind your hands and take you from behind over and over until the only word you can say is my name – just to show you and everyone else that I could be dying from a cut-off leg if it means I can have you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re so dramatic sometimes. I just don’t want you bleeding out and dying before I finish.”

Robb sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and forced her to straddle him. The sudden realization that Robb had been naked this entire time had somehow escaped (Y/N)’s attention as she felt the evidence of his heavily growing arousal against her body. His lips hovered as his warm breath hit her skin, and his low-timber voice whispered into her ear.

“At least you know where this night will take us,” he huskily growled. “Because I don’t plan on stopping until your womb is so full of my seed – it leaks from your cunt.”

He lowered his hands to grasp her hips before trailing them down to sink his hands over her ass. Showing his canines with a lecherous grin, Robb teasingly ground his hips against hers. He rubbed his hardening manhood against her warm core and reveled in the gasps and whimpers escaping her plumped lips. (Y/N) threw her head back as she could no longer hold back her cries of ecstasy. Taking full advantage of her exposed neck, Robb latched his lips just under her and traced the column of her neck with his soft, hot lips. The feeling of his lips combined with the scruff of his beard against her skin was nothing less than euphoric.

“Oh, Robb,” she breathily panted as their bodies rocked together in sync. “Gods, don’t stop!”

Her hands roamed until her fingers fisted around his dark copper curls. (Y/N) felt her lower body clench when he bit on a pulse point before giving languid strokes of his tongue on it. The contrast between his hot, wet tongue and the chill of his breath when he blew on it gave her goosebumps. (Y/N) softly pushed him back as she longingly gazed into his sapphire-ice pools with her (e/c) eyes and twirled one of his russet curls with her finger. Robb leaned forward and pressed a small peck on her lips as an overwhelming feeling of love encompassed him at her smile.

“I love you,” he sighed out, “do you know that? I love you, (Y/N). I love you so much.”

(Y/N) wanted so desperately to say it back, but the words failed. Seeing how much his love struggled, Robb cupped her cheek and reveled in her warmth as she nuzzled into his palm.

“You don’t have to say now,” he reassured her. “I just—I just want you to know that. Promise me no matter what, you know that.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I promise,” she said with a trembling voice. “I…I want it to say back. But I just…with everything that’s happened—I can’t help but feel like…if Red Wedding wasn’t going to be the thing that causes us to lose this war, I’m so scared of what will.”

Robb pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. “Don’t be scared. I know we’ll make it. We will win this war and take King’s Landing from the Lannisters. And when we do, Sansa will finally be free, and we can all return home.”

“To where you’ll rule the North as King in Winterfell,” (Y/N) mused in a wistful tone. “It feels like a sin to even dream of it now.”

Robb stroked his thumb over her cheek. “It’ll be your home, too.”

(Y/N) gave her beautiful king a genuine but sad smile. “I don’t want to talk about the future right now.”

Robb’s brow furrowed at her foreboding words. “What do you want to talk about?”

When (Y/N) pulled away and stepped off his lap, Robb was prepared to chase her through the camp naked if she dared run away while he was in this state. But she just stepped to the center of the space before removing her boots, followed by her stripping the dark leather breeches slowly down until the bare skin of her legs was revealed. She then lifted her tunic over her head along with her chest binder.

Robb was so painfully hard just from looking at her. He cursed himself for thinking he could ever be happy with Talisa, knowing that perfection was standing before him in his tent. His eyes drank in the sight of (Y/N)’s naked body as if looking away would kill him. He took it all in, from every scar that faded to a pale sliver to every beauty mark unique to her. He wondered if she truly knew how beautiful she was…if she understood how much she had completely and utterly bewitched his soul just with her presence. He wondered if she knew how much he wanted to kneel at her feet so that he could beg for her permission to let him worship her for the rest of his life.

(Y/N) began to walk toward him, and it felt as if the world around them was fading into incoherence, and only the two of them were left. When she finally reached him, she took his hand and placed it over her heart. She wanted him to feel it racing from his touch, from his gaze. Then, she lowered herself until her eyes leveled with his as she sat on the cot’s blankets. With her hands, she cupped his face and poured all her love for her king from her eyes.

“I’m tired,” she sighed. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this…of pretending I don’t want you. But most of all…I’m so tired of pretending that I…that I don’t love you.”

It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders as (Y/N) finally confessed her love for her king, Robb Stark. The man she marched with from Winterfell when Joffery first imprisoned his father. The man whom she fought beside and watched mourn for every good man who fell fighting for him. The man she’s loved since before she knew what love meant.

(Y/N) let out a heavy sob. “Because I do, Robb. I do love you. Gods, I love you so much – not just as a soldier loves their king, but as a woman who loves a man.”

Robb hadn’t realized he was crying until (Y/N) wiped a tear with her thumb. He took his hand from her chest and pulled her face towards him until their lips met again. Wet laughter mixed with tears and kisses made for a strange sight for an outsider, but it was a moment filled with more love and happiness than these two dared to hope. The way their bodies moved and swayed before (Y/N) fell on her back underneath Robb Stark as he hovered above her looked more akin to an awkward entanglement of limbs than an impassioned embrace. But for the two lovers, kissing each other seemed as easy as breathing and soothing like a gently falling summer snow. (Y/N) marveled at how easy it was to kiss Robb. It almost felt organic, with how naturally drunk they became by the taste of the other.

Soon, the kiss became more heated as (Y/N) and Robb grew more hungry to explore more of each other’s bodies. The more heated Robb kissed her, the more eager (Y/N)’s hands grew to explore his strong, muscular body. Her hands caressed his warm skin, and her fingers softly traced the scars that made him all the more desirable. His lips trailed to her chin and traveled down her neck until he had just reached the tops of her breasts. Grinning at how hard she was breathing, he took one breast in his hand and twisted her nipple. A needy cry left her lips at his harsh tugging before turning into a high-pitched whine when he bit the other.

Pleasure coursed through (Y/N)’s body like blue-hot lightning as her back arched into his body, and her entire frame felt paralyzed from it. She felt her core leaking from arousal as Robb’s hard, throbbing member was pressed against her stomach. Deciding that if he waited any longer, then he would likely burst, Robb used one hand to roam down (Y/N)’s body until he settled in the special place between her legs. He then took the other breast and tugged its nipple between his teeth before using his other hand to tug and twist the one previously in his mouth. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s mind was so clouded in lust that she could not feel Robb stroking her clit with one finger before sinking two fingers inside her walls.

“Fuck…your walls are so tight on my fingers,” he huskily groaned as (Y/N) wept in ecstasy. “Such a wicked girl…avoiding your king and keeping this sweet cunt away from me. Every time I laid with that whore, I had to fight the urge to call out your name when I spilled into her. But you won’t do that anymore, will you? You know better to run now, right?”

“I-I-I won’t run! I’m yours, Robb! I only belong to you!” She stammered as Robb began to rub tight circles with his now-soaked fingers on her clit. She thrashed against the covers, fisting the furs on his bed to somehow anchor her. Her core tightened, and no matter how much she wanted to close her legs, his hips prevented her from doing so. As a result, (Y/N) had to take it and continue drowning in the pleasure that was Robb Stark’s love.

“Good girl,” Robb darkly chuckled as he straightened his back and placed his hands on the back of her thighs to spread them wide. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed its leaking tip against her folds. “Are you ready for me to take you? Are you ready to know how a wolf breeds his mate?”

(Y/N) quickly nodded. She couldn’t take the waiting any longer. “Please, Robb,” she begged. “Please take me—make me yours!”

With a single thrust, Robb plunged his entire length inside until he bottomed out, and the tip of his manhood kissed the entrance of her womb. The stretch of his thick, hard member against her walls gave the most delicious burn that made (Y/N) peak from the feeling of how deep he was inside her. Meanwhile, Robb’s face snarled at how warm and tight (Y/N)’s cunt felt around him. As her walls tightly clamped down on his length, he bit inside his cheek so hard that the coppery taste of blood coated his tongue to prevent him from erupting right then and there. His hand traveled to her hair and sharply tugged it back so that he could roughly kiss her. His blood only further aroused (Y/N)’s lust for the man inside her as she considered it another sign that she had tasted more of her king and another piece was inside her. Emboldened by this action, she wrapped her tights around his hips to further mold their bodies as one.

The way (Y/N)’s body was pressed against his inflamed Robb’s ardor as he pulled out until only the tip was still inside before roughly thrusting himself in fully. Each time he pulled out and pushed back in, she gave him a symphony of cries and begging that could be heard throughout the camp. The slapping of their skin from each thrust inside of (Y/N) made him grip her hips so tightly that she could already feel the bruises forming on her skin as a steady pace had been reached.

Sweat built on both the lovers’ bodies as (Y/N) began to dig her nails into Robb’s skin and claw long scratches down his back. The twinge of pain only made the young king want to sink deeper and deeper into her until they became one inseparable being. Robb tried to remind himself to go slower to avoid harm (Y/N), but one look in her eyes told him there was no need to hold back.

“Take me,” her eyes begged. “Make me completely yours from this day until my last days.”

Upon her request, it felt as if a dormant beast had taken over Robb, as all he could think about was how much he wanted to take her faster, harder, and rougher – until the only word she could say was his name. As he set off at a new pace, (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back as she began to babble out incoherent cries and moans. It felt like there was no part of her mind, body, and soul that wasn’t wholly drowning from waves of pleasure crashing into her.

She was sure the following day, she would do everything in her power to avoid everyone’s eyes, as they all likely heard her moaning for their king like a common whore. But for now, at this moment, she wanted to only exist for Robb and continue drowning in his love.

Soon, it wasn’t long before the familiar feeling of a knot tightening inside her began to coil more tautly as Robb continued to lavish her in his adoration. (Y/N) could feel her pleasure climbing higher and higher until the knot grew so tight that it snapped. It felt as if a dam had burst, and a heavy flood of pleasure crashed into every muscle of her body. The release had made her feel as if her body had reached new heights of pleasure so immense that it became almost painful as tears started to roll down her cheeks. (Y/N)’s eyes shot wide, and she opened her mouth as her back arched into him, but no sound was made. There was nothing that could adequately convey the

Feeling (Y/N) release on his cock, Robb growled as he felt the last vestiges of his sanity snap and lost all composure. He began to increase his pace until his thrusts became rough and frantic to chase his end. He pushed her thighs until they were pressed against her chest before wildly thrusting deeper inside her walls to feel more of her heat. He was able to fuck into her once, thrice, ten more times before his body went taut, and he spilled his seed into (Y/N)’s womb. Her soaked, vice walls gripped around him and tried to milk all of him in desperate want to carry his child.

As Robb felt the last of his cum leave him, a wave of exhaustion crashed into him, and his arms were no longer able to prevent his body from falling atop (Y/N). Panting for air and resting his head in the crook of her neck, Robb turned to rest on his side while making sure her body was still connected to his. His touch became soothing and gentle as he whispered his dreams and hopes for a child with her hair and his eyes to be borne from this night. She tiredly giggles as he delicately kisses her cheeks, nose, temple, and brow while he talks.

He wanted to weep tears of joy. He felt almost…blessed. After aimlessly wandering in a barren wasteland with no clear end, Robb felt as close to peace as the first time he shared a bed with (Y/N). Robb wraps his arms around her frame and brings furs to cover them as a chilling breeze enters the tent, and (Y/N) shivers from the chill. He tightens his embrace as sleep takes over him.

He whispers in her ear, “I love you, (Y/N). We will be so happy together. I know we will.”

She slightly hesitates before replying. “I am yours, Robb. I swear this to you.”

Her king was so lost in his bliss that he didn’t notice the sadness in her eyes and the tremble in her voice.

A gentle stream of light stirred Robb awake. He stretched his arms and blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Based on how loud it was outside his tent, it was late in the day. He reached out to hold you once more…when he felt your side of his bed feel cold. Immediately alarmed, Robb shot up and looked around his surroundings.

There was no sign of you anywhere.

Your clothes…your bag…your sword…even your bloody scent was gone!

Robb shot out of bed and hastily dressed himself in only his breeches and doublet to begin searching for you. But just as he was about to leave after putting on his boots, a small scroll had been placed in the middle of his desk. He dashed over and quickly opened it. The instant relief from recognizing your handwriting cruelly died as he read over your words, and he could feel his heart breaking.

Every word I said last night holds true – from this day to my last day. I am yours, Robb Stark. But you cannot be mine.

Also, I plan to make this a...3 part series? Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Please comment your thoughts and reblog if you think more people would like to read this!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @llonelygoddess, @arcielee, @countrymusiclover, @yns-world, @axelsagewrites, @bre99, @katzoinks, @asongofrhaenyra, @rise-my-angel, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @anewpersonthatexists, @bogbutteronmycroissant, @sylasthegrim, @writingsofwesteros, @julessworldd , @dipperscavern

#robb stark x reader #robb stark x female reader #robb stark x fem reader #robb stark fanfic #robb stark smut #game of thrones fix it #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fic #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #dark robb stark #dark fic #my writing

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catalinaromanoff · 1 month

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silence

wandanat x mute reader

summary: your girlfriends are always there for you and the only people who truly understand you.

warnings: mentions of abuse, panic attack

мой сладкий (moy sladkiy) = my sweet

красивая девушка (krasivaya devushka) = beautiful girl

inspired by the song: (not a songfic tho)

you hadn’t always been mute. in fact, up until you were six years old, your parents couldn’t get you to shut up. your teachers up until you were mute would complain about how disruptive you were and how nothing could get done in your presence.

maybe that was the reason you went mute. maybe not. who knows? all you know is that one day you no longer wanted anything to do with this wretched and cruel world. and so, you stopped talking.

at first your parents had tried everything they could to get you to utter just one simple word like “hi” or “goodbye.” all attempts failed. you just weren’t interested.

eventually, they gave up. they shipped you away, labeling you a ‘freak’ and ‘unlovable’ to the extravagant foster home you would spend the next twelve years in. sure, they didn’t care about you, but they still had money and if they were going to send a child away they wanted to say it was ‘the best foster home in the nation.’

what a lie.

this ‘foster home’ resembled the red room. thousands of girls trained to be cold-blooded killers. they like you. a lot. they liked your silence and the way you carried yourself. slowly you climbed up the ranks and became one of their best spies at the ripe age of fourteen. you didn’t know why you were so compliant. it could’ve possibly been because of your disinterest. you didn’t care if you were the best or the worst. you just went through the motions.

one could guess those motions led you to be one of the best assassinators, rivaling the black widow. until she joined the avengers.

you remember the day the black widow was no longer one of you. no longer an assassinator, except looking to stop them. your superiors were furious and scared. that was the scariest day of your life. after the black widow’s change of teams, the ‘white spies’ as your organization would call you all, were abused and treated horribly.

one night in particular you had failed to follow their instructions. an assassination gone wrong. you were sixteen, for goodness sake. they asked you if you had anything to say for yourself, obviously you didn’t. you were mute. they knew this. and yet, they put you through hours of torture. you were beat, thrown around, and-

suddenly you shoot up and sit up straight in your bed. you let out a gut-wrenching sob. you’re shaking. where are you? are they coming to get you?

without warning you feel a hand on your arm. you’re now scrambling out of bed, shaking, and screaming at this unknown person to not touch you. what if they hurt you?

the lights come on and you slowly realize where you are. you’re not a white spy anymore. you’re apart of the avengers, and have two wonderful girlfriends. you try to stop the shaking and the panic but you simply can’t. not without them.

“honey.. can i touch you?”

you hear wanda’s gravely morning voice and nod your head yes immediately. she gets up from your shared bed and slowly approaches you. suddenly you realize you have backed yourself into a corner.

wanda finally reaches your position and sits down across from you. she holds her hands out for you to grab, which you immediately do.

“i want you to breath with me, okay мой сладкий?”

you nod your head and follow her breathing.

in, 1, 2, 3,

hold, 1, 2, 3,

out, 1, 2,3,

you continue repeating this until you eventually calm down. no more shaking, your thoughts are under control, but now you know you won’t be able to head back to bed. not like this.

“another dream about them, huh?”

nat speaks up from her spot in the bed. she’s sitting on the edge and had been carefully observing you and wanda. you don’t like this distance and so you signal her to come over.

you sign to her: to answer your question, yes.

you had learned sign language as you grew up. having technology and the internet at your disposal allowed you to spend all day and all night constantly learning the intricate language. at first you began with finger spelling but slowly moved on to more advanced gestures. unfortunately, not a lot of people know sign language.

in fact, when you had first been recruited to join the avengers, you had almost been fired. no one knew how to communicate with you and assholes from the lower ranks complained about having to learn the sign language alphabet in order to ‘talk’ to you. however director fury did not want to fire you. so he appointed a deaf S.H.I.E.L.D. intern to teach weekly sign language classes.

so here you are. communicating with your girlfriends through your language.

nat smiles sadly at your response.

“it’s been getting worse lately, hasn’t it?”

you slowly nod your head. of course they would notice. you barely slept anymore. you felt like a zombie.

“is there anything i can do? maybe i can try to use my powers to calm your brain down?”

you shake your head.

i need to get over this on my own. last time we used your powers the nightmares came back worse.

wanda sighs and frustratedly runs her hand through her hair. nat wraps her arm around her waist and pulls her closer. you continue to hold her right hand.

“i just hate seeing you like this.”

i know.

you smile sadly and pull wanda in for a hug. after a while you share a hug with natasha.

we’ll get through this.

nat nods her head and smiles at me.

“you’re so strong.”

you begin to blush and hide your face in your hands.

you hear wanda’s infectious laugh as they watch you get flustered over nat’s compliment.

“oh cmon красивая девушка, we wanna see your face. you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

you giggle and stiffen your arms up when nat reaches over and tries to pry your hands from your face.

“okay, guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

suddenly you feel two pairs of hands begin to tickle you every which way. you can barely contain my loud laughter. you kick at the hands in order to get them away but to no avail. eventually you give up and take your hands away from your face.

the tickles finally stop and you continue to giggle, out of breath.

i love you two so much.

nat and wanda smile.

we love you too. way more than you know.

you don’t even realize they signed until a few seconds later. it wasn’t even finger spelling — it was actual sign language! you feel your eyes well up with tears. you pull both of your girlfriends into a bone-crushing hug. you let out a watery laugh.

“we decided to learn sign language. no more finger spelling.”

you nod and squeal. you feel seen.

for the first time in your life, you feel like no one is trying to change you. not one, but two people accept you for you are and are willing to learn your language. for the first time since you were six, you don’t feel disconnected from the world.

you feel truly loved.

a/n: honestly i wasn’t expecting to write again today but i read something on here a long time ago that made it back to the front of my brain. but yea, i hope you enjoyed if you made it this far!

#Spotify #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #wandavision #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #wandanat #wandanat x reader

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just-aake · 3 months

Text

Everlasting Devotion - Part II

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Warnings: light angst, light fluff

Words: 4494

The council meeting had just started moments ago, and Natasha could already feel a headache forming as the members continued to argue with each other.

“Lord Dreykov has made significant contributions to this kingdom,” one councilman insists, his voice rising above the rest. “We must remember that as we decide whether he is truly at fault for any part of the failed coup.”

“Providing the means to execute such acts is participating in treason no matter who they are,” another member counters, her tone equally forceful.

“Wasn’t that governess’ body found in this so-called Red Room? That’s where the soldiers were conditioned to be controlled, isn’t it?” a third councilor interjects. “How can you be sure he provided this information to Lord Rumlow and not her?”

Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose as the debate raged on, voices rising in volume and intensity.

She was beginning to regret not choosing to remain in your company for a while longer before coming here. The warm comfort of your presence is a stark contrast to the current chaos.

Over the past couple of weeks, neither Natasha nor the Captain of the Royal Guard, Steve Rogers, have found additional evidence to bring to the council to prove whether Dreykov is guilty of any crimes, leading to this current situation.

A council divided.

The tension in the room is palpable, each side remaining firm in their defense or prosecution of Lord Dreykov.

“A failed coup involving the head of the house himself,” another councilman remarks derisively, shaking his head before continuing with a scoff. “Not to mention, their governess was also behind that assassination attempt the previous year. Obviously, that family can’t be trusted. Who knows, perhaps Lady Y/n has a plot as well.”

Natasha’s brow twitched slightly in irritation upon hearing your name uttered in such an insulting manner.

Removing her hand from where it had been pressed against her temple in an attempt to soothe the tension there, she straightens her posture and places her now clasped hands on the meeting table with a soft thud.

The subtle commanding action had an immediate effect as a hush fell across the room, each of the council members turning their focus to the young queen.

Fixing the councilman who had just spoken with a hard stare, Natasha’s intimidating demeanor made him shift nervously in his seat, seemingly realizing his mistake.

“Let me remind you,” Natasha begins calmly, her voice cutting through the silence, “that Lady Y/n was also poisoned during that assassination attempt and almost lost her life in this incident as well. Both of which were to save my life.”

Her tone hardens, carrying a subtle warning as she continues, “If I were you, I’d take a little more time to choose your words carefully before making such remarks about her.”

The councilman swallows hard and quickly nods in acknowledgment.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” he murmurs, the earlier bravado gone from his voice.

Natasha’s gaze sweeps across the room, ensuring her message is clear to all.

After a moment of silence, a clearing of a throat gathers the council’s attention as everyone turns to look at the head Chancellor.

“Since we obviously have disagreements concerning Lord Dreykov, let us move on to the other houses involved,” Chancellor Ross declares firmly.

His directive was met with murmurs of assent as the council reluctantly shifted their focus, the tension in the room easing slightly but not dissipating entirely.

With a tiny sigh, Natasha turns to Captain Rogers, who is seated at her side, and gestures for him to begin discussing the verdicts of the remaining two Houses.

At least the council has already agreed on the definite guilt of the other parties involved. Now, all that needs to be discussed is the consequences of their actions.

Steve clears his throat, taking command of the room.

“Lady Eleanor Bishop has withdrawn her title from the Bishop household, accepting guilt for aiding in the coup, and agreed to carry out her sentence in prison.”

At his words, Natasha’s gaze dropped slightly to the table. She remembered how Kate had reacted to news of her mother’s punishment—a mixture of grief and conflict etched on her face before shifting to one of determination and declaring to make amends for her mother’s betrayal.

Though Kate had put on a tough front, Natasha could tell the young noblewoman was still reeling from the emotional toll of the situation.

“Lady Kate Bishop’s now the head of her house. Should she also assume her mother’s previous position on the council?” a member asks, sparking immediate debate.

“She’s too young and has no experience.”

“A new perspective could be good.”

“Is she even prepared for such a role?”

Natasha shakes her head in disbelief at the onslaught of comments from the other nobles, discussing someone’s future without care or consideration for their input.

However, unlike them, she knows about Kate’s personal aspirations as her friend.

Leaning slightly toward Steve, she whispers, “Does Kate still come to the training to be part of the Royal Guard?”

In response, Steve nods, answering, “She’s never missed one session yet.”

Natasha’s expression turns contemplative at the revelation that the young lady is still pursuing her goal despite the additional pressures of taking over her mother’s role and responsibilities.

“Should we consider assigning a different noble house to replace the Bishops, Your Majesty?” Ross asks, looking at Natasha for her input and drawing the council’s attention.

Natasha thinks for a moment before ultimately shaking her head.

“No, the seat belongs to House Bishop,” she states firmly. “Lady Kate will have the choice whether or not she wants to keep the position.”

There were murmurs of agreement, though some dissent was still noticeable. The conversation then shifted to the next pressing matter.

“The replacement for Lord Rumlow’s seat is still under consideration,” Steve announces. “Until then, the responsibility and handling of the mercenaries and weapon dealings must be temporarily assigned to another House.”

A hand raises in the air at his declaration.

“I would like to offer my services,” Lord Jasper Sitwell interjects smoothly. “Seeing how I was previously in charge of that division before.”

“Before you gave it to Lord Rumlow, you mean,” Lady Maria Hill remarks pointedly, her eyes narrowing in accusation.

“How dare you,” Sitwell snaps, his tone defensive as he stands and slams his hands against the table. “What exactly are you implying here?”

Steve starts to stand as well, his expression a warning glare against the other lord’s aggressive behavior, but Maria gestures at her cousin to halt his action with a slight wave of her hand, signaling no need for assistance.

The commander then turns her focus to Natasha, ignoring Sitwell’s glowering posture.

“My house can oversee the mercenaries and weapons with our soldiers. We’re already in charge of the kingdom’s military, so it’s not much of a stretch in responsibilities,” Maria reasons confidently.

“With no war to fight, at least this will give you some purpose for existing,” another council member mutters under their breath, earning a few stifled chuckles.

“Enough!” Natasha reprimands, tired of the constant arguments at every turn. “Attacking each other will get us nowhere.”

She turns to Maria, making the decision.

“Commander Hill will take command of Rumlow’s operations and responsibilities for now.”

That is the safer option between the two.

Lord Sitwell has been one of the more reserved nobles over the years, so his sudden outburst today does raise some suspicion for Natasha, especially since she and Steve are still working to investigate and uncover if any more noble houses are aligned with Dreykov or Rumlow.

Although Sitwell will probably deny it, Natasha knows that he has had dealings with Rumlow in the past. However, the extent of their previous connection is unknown.

The only reason she had some clue to be cautious of the noble comes from the information you provided, based on years of Rumlow boasting and showing off to you.

At her declaration, Maria nods in acknowledgment as Sitwell scowls in displeasure, sitting in his seat with a disgruntled huff.

Observing his reaction carefully, Natasha makes a mental note to discuss further investigation of the noble with Steve.

The rest of the council meeting continues in a similar manner, with moments of agreement punctuated by dissenting voices.

At every decision, Natasha feels the weight of their judgments and opinions pressing down on her, a constant reminder of how she’s supposed to maintain the kingdom’s delicate balance of peace.

After what felt like an eternity, Natasha decided to end the meeting. She was exhausted, and the constant bickering and political maneuvering were wearing her down.

“That will be all for today,” she announces.

However, before the nobles can stand, Lord Sitwell raises his hand for attention. His eyes lock onto Natasha with an inscrutable expression that causes her instincts to rise slightly in caution.

“If I may, Your Majesty,” he begins, “concerning our earlier disagreement, I propose that Lady Y/n be brought in for questioning by the council. Given how she’s the next closest person to Lord Dreykov, she could provide valuable insights into these unknown techniques created by her House.”

Natasha’s hands subtly clenched on the arms of her chair at his suggestion. Her protective instinct for you flares as her expression hardens into a disapproving frown.

She is not going to subject you to the scrutiny of these nobles in an interrogation about the Red Room and Black Widow operations, especially since her family is partly responsible for its creation and secrecy in the first place.

“Information on those methods was restricted after the end of the previous war,” Natasha reminds him, her voice steady in an attempt to deflect.

Not missing a beat, Sitwell presses on, “So, you’re saying Lady Y/n knows nothing about the details of the Red Room or the methods used in controlling people?”

His tone carries a hint of skepticism, challenging her assertion.

Natasha’s mouth presses into a thin line, her agitation barely concealed at his targeted remarks against you.

However, the main unnerving thing for Natasha is that his suspicions are on the right track.

If anything, you probably know the subject the most, having learned the different pieces of information held by each of the original collaborators of the Black Widow operations.

But revealing that fact won’t help you in this situation.

Natasha can feel the curious eyes of the council on her, waiting in expectation for her answer.

“Everything that needs to be known by the council is included in the reports from the investigation that Captain Rogers conducted,” she asserts firmly. “There is no need for Lady Y/n to be questioned.”

A pleased smile appears on Sitwell’s face as he looks at the other council members. His eyes now gleam with a calculating light.

“Yes, I’ve read the report of the incident, but something seems to be missing from the timeline of events recorded,” he remarks pointedly, flipping through the documents in his hands. “After your duel with Lord Rumlow, the accounts directly move on to your encounter with Lord Dreykov and Lady Y/n at their manor.”

Natasha’s expression remains steely as she asks in suspicion, “And what are you hoping to discover by questioning her? Lady Y/n was a victim in this incident, not a suspect.”

“Then perhaps she can provide the missing perspective of what transpired between her and her father before you arrived. Something that might explain the reasoning of Lord Dreykov’s actions at that time,” Sitwell suggests before asserting, “Surely there is no problem in asking her to speak with us, Your Majesty.”

Around the room, the council members exchange glances, most nodding in agreement.

Scoffing lightly under her breath, Natasha can’t believe that out of everything they’ve discussed today, the one thing that most of these squabbling nobles can agree on is to target you.

With most of the others favoring his suggestion, Sitwell continues, challenging with a confident smirk.

“Unless Lady Y/n is planning to use her relationship with you to conceal certain secrets.”

“You—” Natasha clenches her teeth in anger. Her words are cut off when she catches Steve giving her a subtle shake of his head, silently urging her not to continue in her defense of you.

Taking a deep breath, Natasha realizes that losing her composure and responding to Sitwell’s provocation about her relationship won’t be beneficial, especially if she wants to protect you from their scrutiny.

“Fine, I’ll consider it,” Natasha grits out, the words bitter on her tongue, before declaring firmly, “You’re all dismissed.”

The tension in the room dissipates slightly as the council members gather their things, casting furtive glances at Natasha, whose protective anger simmers just below the surface.

As some members slowly disperse from the room, Natasha catches snippets of their disgruntled voices rising in quiet but pointed murmurs.

“No surprise that she favors Lady Y/n, given their relationship.”

“Cunning, just like her father, to befriend and make the queen fall for her over the years to defend her.”

“It’s a shame, really. Limiting ourselves from a more beneficial match. We need alliances, not romantic indulgences.”

Her jaw tightens as she resists the urge to snap at them, her hands curling into fists on the table.

When the room finally empties, leaving only the Captain and Chancellor, Natasha’s head falls into her hands, and she sighs heavily.

“That went terribly.”

“I disagree. You handled it well,” Steve reassures her, a small, friendly pat on her shoulder.

Standing from his seat, Ross makes a tiny sound of acknowledgment, remarking, “It was certainly better than your father’s first attempt at it. However…”

His tone grows serious as he continues, “…I believe you should have firmly agreed to Lord Sitwell’s final suggestion, as your mother would have done if she was in that position. Your response shows obvious special treatment toward Lady Y/n.”

That comment snaps Natasha upright, her glare now fixed on the chancellor.

She’s known Ross for almost all her life, given how he was her mother’s adviser and now hers, so she understandably values his insight after everything he’s witnessed in his role.

However, she cannot stand for this remark, particularly supporting the other nobles’ opposition to you.

“They’re not searching for answers,” Natasha accuses, her voice hardening. “They just want an opportunity to intimidate Y/n.”

“Because of her relationship with you,” Ross states plainly in understanding before giving a slight shrug. “It makes sense. To them, she’s a big threat.”

Steve waves his hand in a stopping gesture, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Come on, Ross. You don’t actually consider Lady Y/N a threat. She’s one of the most loyal nobles to the royal family.”

“Considering she’s also the leading candidate to be the queen’s partner, and her father is under investigation for attempting to overthrow said queen,” Ross points out. “It’s understandable that people in the kingdom might target her or her character.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow at his words, recalling the cryptic warning Dreykov had given her about potential threats looming over you. She rises from her seat, exuding authority and a hint of intimidation.

“Have you heard anything specific, Ross? About individuals targeting Y/n?”

Ross clasps his hands behind his back and responds with a shake of his head, his voice calm and measured.

“It’s merely an observation, Your Majesty. Relationships of this nature are scrutinized closely if they don’t meet the council’s expectations. This means that Lady Y/n will likely face continuous pressure from them if she remains by your side.”

“I can protect her from such things,” Natasha declares, her resolve unwavering.

“Maybe, or maybe not,” Ross remarks calmly. “However, if you truly wish to protect Lady Y/n, then I advise you the best option is to reconsider your relationship with her.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief, crossing his arms as he faces the chancellor. “That’s terrible advice…how can you say that…”

Letting the discussion continue between the two without her, Natasha turns her attention toward the large window in the chamber. She watches the sun slowly setting, remembering her commitment to meet with you later by the lake.

With a small smile at the thought, Natasha disregards Ross’ suggestion, her mind already resolute in her decision.

There’s nothing to reconsider.

You are the only one she wants by her side, and Natasha knows she will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

~ ⧗ ~

The lake waters shimmer under the bright moonlight, casting a silvery sheen that dances with each gentle ripple, enveloping the clearing in a serene atmosphere.

A soft breeze rustles the leaves of the towering tree under which Natasha sits, her back against the trunk while you rest against her front as her arms remain wrapped around you in a warm embrace.

The air is filled with fragrances of blooming night flowers, reminding Natasha of the one she knows has not bloomed yet.

Her eyes glance up at the tallest branch on the tree where that flower rests, untouched and alone. Its time of bloom is still a few weeks away, near her birthday, which will mark exactly one year since the incident that tore the two of you apart.

The memory of that night remains vivid in her mind: the overwhelming fear and panic she felt when you collapsed from the poison, followed by the helplessness she experienced when she also succumbed, unable to help you.

Her arms instinctively tighten around you at the reminder of how close she had almost lost you at that time, too.

You must have felt the slight tension in her body since you decided to break the silence.

“Is there something else that’s bothering you?” you ask, your voice soft and filled with concern.

Natasha already told you everything that was said during the council meeting, including Lord Sitwell’s proposal. The last thing she wants is to add her worries to the pressure that the nobles are trying to put on you.

Shaking her head slightly, she softly whispers, “It’s nothing you have to worry about.”

At her response, your hands stop moving from where they were gently playing with her fingers before slowly falling to your lap as your head lowers slightly to your chest.

Sensing the sudden unease in your body, Natasha leans forward curiously, tilting her head to the side to see your face. She catches a glimpse of sadness in your expression before it shifts away, a small smile quickly appearing on your lips when you notice her gaze.

Frowning slightly, unsure if she truly saw that anxious look, Natasha still moves to reassure you.

“You don’t have to do it, you know,” she remarks softly. “I can always tell them no.”

You shake your head, huffing lightly in exasperation.

“And have them prove to everyone that you are showing favoritism to me,” you point out, raising a brow pointedly.

“Or that I’m just using our relationship to hide some sinister plan,” you repeat mockingly, shaking your head in disbelief at the extent of the other nobles’ conspiracies about you.

Natasha rests her chin on your shoulder, asserting with a playful smirk, “You are my favorite,” before pressing a soft kiss against your cheek.

Her lips are warm and tender, a fleeting touch that lingers in your heart.

“Charmer,” you accuse teasingly, rolling your eyes slightly with fondness as you turn in her arms to face her.

You brush her shoulder lightly, removing some leaves that had fallen there, and then drift your hand down her arm to her wrist, caressing the path gently.

At her hand, you interlock her fingers with yours and bring them to your lips, pressing a soft kiss before pulling away with a sad expression.

“I told you that bringing me into the castle would cause some problems for you with the other nobles,” you remind her.

Natasha scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief.

“You suffered a major injury, and your manor was damaged. The circumstances are completely reasonable for you to be at the castle,” she defends, her voice firm and unwavering, showing no regrets about her decision.

“But I’m fine now, and my manor is mostly repaired,” you say pointedly, knowing that Natasha is also aware of these facts, before adding, “There’s no reason why I should continue to stay at the castle.”

In response, Natasha tugs gently on your clasped hands and wraps her other arm around your waist, pulling you closer. She tilts her head and leans in, tucking her lips against the side of your neck.

Her breath tickles your skin as she whispers, “What if I want you to stay?”

You bite your lip lightly at her action, warmth spreading through your body as you hover above hers. You know what will happen if you let Natasha continue—the closeness of her presence is already almost overwhelming.

So, to keep your train of thought, you pull back slightly from her embrace.

Natasha immediately starts to follow your movement, leaning forward further, but you stop her with a small press of your hand against her chest.

You shoot her an amused, teasing smirk and raise your brow pointedly at her distracted action.

At your silent reprimand, Natasha twists her lips in disappointment but relents with a sigh. She leans back against the trunk of the tree as you bring her focus back to the previous discussion.

“The one issue that most of the other nobles seem to agree on is our relationship,” you say with a sigh. “They don’t like me as your partner since I don’t bring any political benefit to the kingdom, especially now that my house’s reputation is in question with Dreykov’s involvement in the coup.”

“It shouldn’t matter what they think,” Natasha says, her voice filled with frustration. “They don’t get to choose who I get to be with.”

“But as their queen, you do have to consider all of their concerns,” you chastise gently, giving her a pointed look. “Even if it’s about us.”

Groaning lightly, Natasha presses a hand to her head to ease the exhaustion of the memory of the constant bickering among the council members throughout the entire meeting.

“I doubt even they would remember that there are other issues in the kingdom that need addressing, with how they’re so distracted by scrutinizing my love life,” Natasha remarks, a hint of exasperation in her tone.

You ponder her words for a moment, twisting your lips in thought before an idea comes to mind.

“If our relationship is what’s distracting them from focusing on other matters,” you say, a determined expression forming on your face, “then let’s remove the distraction.”

Natasha’s brows furrow in surprise at your words, and she crosses her arms in disapproval, turning her head to stare out at the distant waters of the lake.

The surface now appears still and frozen, an illusion of tranquility, but Natasha knows that with a tiny action, ripples would spread across the entire lake, shattering its peaceful state.

That feeling mirrors the turmoil in her heart at your suggestion.

“I don’t think I like where this conversation is heading,” Natasha comments, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Chuckling softly, you cup her cheeks, bringing her face back to meet your eyes.

A tiny frown remains creased on her brows, and her lips are pressed together in a pout, showing some reluctance to your suggestion.

“We’re not breaking up, Natasha,” you reassure her. “At least not for real.”

Natasha relaxes slightly, but her eyes still reflect confusion and concern as she tilts her head curiously.

“What do you mean?”

You stroke her cheek gently in comfort, easing the distress still on her expression as you explain.

“If they believe that we’re no longer in a relationship, then they can’t bring it up against you anymore,” you reason. Then you can focus their attention on all of the other real matters of the kingdom.”

“They’re going to have to accept you as my partner eventually,” Natasha points out before stating firmly, “It’s not like I’m ever going to choose another person to spend my life with.”

You lower your head slightly at her indirect declaration, hiding the tiny happy smile, and blush at her words.

Shaking off those thoughts about the future, you meet her eyes again with a somber expression.

“I don’t want to be the thing that complicates the beginning of your reign, Natasha.”

“You’re not,” she insists, her voice firm and reassuring.

“But to them, I am,” you counter softly.

Your hand rests lightly above her heart, feeling its steady beat beneath her skin—a reassuring rhythm that speaks of her steadfast love and strength.

“You need time to demonstrate your capability as Queen without them using our relationship to undermine your every decision,” you say before withdrawing your hand to clasp it against your chest. “And I need to prove to them that I’m not afraid to confront them…”

Your eyes shift down to the ground, your expression falling slightly as you finish softly, “…to show I’m not a threat to the kingdom or to you.”

At your tone, Natasha examines you carefully, trying to read the emotions on your face as she’s done many times before. Her brows furrow when she notices the subtle uncertainty and sadness in your eyes and the tension in your body that was not there earlier when she met you.

“Y/n, you know you don’t have to prove anything to them, right?” Natasha asks gently.

Your mouth begins to open to respond, but you hesitate, Ross’s earlier words lingering in your mind. With a tight press of your lips, you manage a slight nod.

“Of course,” you answer weakly.

Natasha’s frown deepens suspiciously, studying you intently, but you press on before she can delve deeper.

“At least let me show them that I didn’t be your friend all these years just to seduce you to be mine,” you joke lightly with a roll of your eyes.

Raising her brows, Natasha slides her hands to your waist and pulls you in with a sudden tug.

You catch yourself on her shoulders to keep from falling entirely on top of her.

When you pull back, curiosity in your gaze, her eyelids flutter at you with a compelling mix of desire and affection.

“Is that what happened?” Natasha whispers teasingly, her voice low, sending shivers down your spine and warming your cheeks at her tone.

Her lips curve into a seductive smile at your reaction, inviting you closer, and her intense and penetrating green eyes captivate you, daring you to resist the undeniable attraction between you.

And you don’t.

Cupping the back of her neck, you draw her face close to yours, tilting your head slightly as you lean in. Before losing yourself to her irresistible pull, you reaffirm your idea.

“We’ve pretended to be together when we weren’t,” you whisper against her lips, brushing them lightly in anticipation. “How hard can it be to pretend we’re just friends?”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A/n: Thank you for reading!

Taglist : @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @nothanksbye07, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x reader

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alpaca-clouds · 2 months

Text

So, which Drow House kidnapped Halsin?

Fuck it. This morning @adelar-plays posted this excerpt of the dialogue you can have with Halsin about his time as, well, a sex slave to the drow. tl;dr: If you play as a drow with a noble background in the game, you get some extra dialogue options and through it learn that the House Halsin had been captured by was not just destroyed, but is looked upon very poorly by other drow. Badly enough that working for any surviving members might get you into trouble.

And my very first thought about it was: Wait, was he captured by House Oblodra? (Aka: Araj's House?) Sure, Araj does not react to him or he to Araj (Or does he? Has anyone tried?), but Araj's dialogue does imply that she was fairly young when House Oblodra fell.

However, there are other options of course. Let me go through them all.

Now, what we know: Halsin is about 350 years old. This happened when he was a "young druid" (though your guess is as good as mine what he might consider "young"). And it definitely happened before the Shadowcurse was cast. So at the very least he escaped the Underdark more than a hundred years ago.

So, the drow house in question must have fallen between about 300 and 100 years ago. That much is fairly certain. So, between ca. 1190 and 1390DR.

Before I go into the list of possible Houses, let me quickly go into what the houses are:

The drow are a matriarchal people, and usually group themselves into Houses. The most apt comparison for those Houses - at least among the drow of Menzoberrazan - is basically mafia families, that are usually organized around one matriarch. Most of the Houses have their own little army, and just tons, and tons of slaves. (Look, in Menzo there is about 5 slaves for every drow living there. Most slaves are goblins or minotaurs, but there are also other races.) The Houses are in constant rivalry with each other to become the most influencial House of the city. And if you as a drow do not belong to a House, you are basically worthless.

So, which Houses were disbanded in the timeframe?

House Celofraie got destroyed in a conflict with House Agrach Dyrr in 1367 DR. We do not know the reason, but it was probably simply a rivalry between the Houses. The same goes for House Mlin'thobbyn and House Syr'thaerl.

House Do'Urden is one that we know a lot about, duh, because Drizzt is such an important character for the lore. The House was originally very important, but lost the favor of Lolth after Drizzt saved a normal elven kid on the surface. This led to the destruction of the House in 1338 DR.

House Elec'thil got destroyed at some point between 1327 and 1367 DR. The exact reason was never given.

House Bron'tej got destroyed in 1227 after a conflict with House Barrison Del'Armgo.

House Kenafin and House Horlbar were disbanded in 1383 DR, though the members of both Houses together formed the new House of Melarn.

House Srune'Lett nearly started a drow civil war and got subsequently destroyed in 1372 DR.

House Tuin'Tarl got destroyed in 1383 DR, after trying to attack House Kenafin and House Horlbar. In a revenge attack, obviously.

House Teken'duis had a rivalry with House Freth. When trying to assassinate their leaders, they failed - and in return the family fell into shame and was susequently executed by the ruling council of the city. This was in 1319DR.

House DeVir formed an alliance with some gnomes in an attempt to overthrow one of the other houses. Because Lolth hates everything not-drow, they lost the favor of Lolth. House Do'Urden took advantage of this and destroyed the House in 1297.

House Oblodra, as we all knew, allied with some illithids. Now mind you, this was seen as somewhat okay for about 2000 years, allowing some members of the house to develop psionic magic. Until some members of the members of the house got about the same idea that Gortash and Durge had: "Hey, if we use magic on the tadpoles and put them into people's brains, we can mind control them and take over the city." Which went about as well as it went for Gort and Durge, ending with the destruction of the House and Exile of all members in 1358DR. It should be noted that this is the one house, where Lolth took an active role in their distruction, sending demons to destroy them.

So, based on this information and the dialogue that was shared...

Again, I will disregard the entire "when I was young", because your guess is as good as mine to what Halsin considers "young". But the other information given there is more interesting: The fact that if you associated with the House, you might lose the favor of other drow/might actually get into trouble.

Because to me that tells me that the House in question was not destroyed in a rivalry. So we can disregard pretty much all of the Houses that were destroyed in a simple conflict with another House of the city without any further information given. It makes me assume that the House in question has lost the favor of Lolth, making them outcasts among the other Lolth-alligned drow.

That leaves the potential candidates of:

House Do'Urden

House DeVir

House Oblodra

With the vague possibility that it could also be Teken'duis. With them it is not quite clear whether they still have the favor of Lolth or not.

So, yeah. It could obviously also have been a not before named House in the city. But if it is among one of the Houses in question, it should be one of those three (or four).

Make of that what you want. One way or another, there is a chance that either Drizzt, Viconia, or Araj might have met him - even if they do not remember him necessarily. Given that to them he might have just been "another slave".

Bonus:

Since we know that he was with the House for 3 years, before he escaped in the chaos of the House being destroyed, we can also calculate Halsin's age at the time.

If he had been a prisoner of House Do'Urden, he would have been around 190 to 200 years at the time. Had he been a prisoner of House DeVir, he would have been between 150 and 160 years. And had he been a prisoner of House Oblodra, he would have been 210 to 220 years old. (Just rough estimates, as I do not assume he is exactly 350 years old.)

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #halsin #halsin silverbough #menzoberranzan #dnd drow #house do'urden #drizzt do'urden #house devir #house oblodra #viconia devir #araj oblodra

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edgeray · 4 months

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Hi there!

I just finish to read the rules for Arlecchino request, and I saw no specific illness/disease, so I will try to make my situation for everyone:

I have horrible knee pain to the point I'm close to faint because of it sometimes.

But to put it more accessible to everyone what about that:

Reader hurt themself during a mission but it was an intern injury, they hide it but Arlecchino noticed how they start walking weird and many other sign.. until Reader faint from the pain? How will Arlecchino react and what would she do?

Sorry if it disobey the rules and for any grammar mistake since English is not my first language ^^ (and I'm writing this while it's 12 am where I'm from ;/ )

Thank you if you are making this request, if not I still thank you for reading it until the end :)

I Am Fine in Your Arms

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi, there anon! If you choose to request anon again, give yourself a name/emoji 🫶! I really appreciate you pertaining to my rules; not only do I want to make my x Reader's accessible to as many people, but I also don't want to misrepresent anyone or their experiences with that illness/condition especially since I myself most likely won't have them, so thanks for the consideration. I'm assuming by ‘intern injury’ you mean ‘internal injury,’ so that's what I'm writing based off. You're not breaking any of my rules but your concern is appreciated! Don't worry about it though. Your English is good, especially since it's not your first language :). Little bit rushed because I am tired and ti's 12AM. Thank you for your request! Content warnings / info - reader goes by ‘mother’ but gn! reader, semi-graphic details about injury, this weirdly had actual plot for some reason, 1.5k words

Although the vast majority of your duties was primarily serving the House of the Hearth and the Fourth Harbinger, as a member of the Fatui, it was mandatory for the Fatui to ensure you still held loyalties to the Tsaritsa. Typically, proof of your fidelity was through completing the occasional reconnaissance mission assigned to you every couple of months though this time you were given a different type of operation: direct action, specifically, assassination.

Assassination wasn't necessarily your forte, but it was doable. In a few weeks, you'd stop scrubbing your hands incessantly in hopes of washing away the stained blood, and you would stop receiving dreams painted in red. At least, with reconnaissance, blood and violence could be avoided. Why you were assigned this particular assassination mission when there were much more suitable candidates, you could only assume. You had an inkling it had to do with some of the other Harbingers’ grudges and suspicions of your husband, and perhaps the chink in the Knave's impenetrable armor would be you. Failure in this mission could quickly spiral into considerable consequences for you and Arlecchino, regardless if the designation was influenced by more untrustworthy Harbingers, so you couldn't afford to fail this anyways–not with how high profile this target was.

You return to the House of the Hearth, splatters of blood still visible on your appearance despite your best attempts of cleaning up. At your arrival, some of the children rush to greet you, only to pause as they take in your exhausated form. You give them a weak smile, bending down and extending your arms to accept their eager embraces.

“M-mother!” the children exclaim as they swarm around you, their curious and anxious minds surely brimming with many questions. You hadn't told any of the children where you've gone to for the past few days, believing that there was no need to stir up such worries when the mission was going expectedly. You were wrong, however; no mission like the one they had given you should have been done alone, and yet the only one you could depend on was yourself and your vision. It was undeniably a test for you, and you had only scraped by with your life and the mission's success. Now, all you wanted to do was collapse in bed and hibernate for several weeks, your head filled with a dense fog and senses dulling.

“Mother, there's blood on–” Barely able to hear the statement, you shake your head, dismissing the little girl's distress. “Don't worry, dear… it's not mine.”

With some effort, you pull away from the children and you hobble your way towards the living commons, your bruised ribs impelling pained grunts from you.

“Someone…” you pant, placing your hand over your forehead. Leaning against the nearest wall, you shut your eyes, breathing in deeply as an attempt to relieve the ache. “Someone go get your Father.”

Multiple feet scurry away after your command, but the remaining children around you overwhelm you with their burning questions of what they can do to help, what did you need, whether or not you needed medicine, and much more that you couldn't bother processing. Gently, you push past them, making your way to you and Arlecchino's shared bedroom.

“I'm sorry, children, I just need to lay down in private for a little bit, okay? Then I promise that I will be up soon, and we can make cookies. How does that sound?” You say to them in an effort to quell their anxiety and it works for the younger children. The older ones, however, you can tell they still carry some distress but they nod along for your sake.

Such good children.

You enter your bedroom and shut the door, immediately peeling away your clothes caked in blood, not even bothering to go into your adjacent bathroom. After chucking the articles in the direction of the laundry basket, you dig through the wardrobe for your much more prefered uniform, the one you wore as ‘Mother.’ By that time, the door clicks, and your husband enters.

Arlecchino wastes no time in appearing by your side, her blackened hands wrapped around your hips, and guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. You hoped that you were able to hide your wince in time when she touched you. You know your husband far too well to know that, despite her stoic expression, she is just as worried for you, if not more, than your children. There's that small knit in her brows, and her lips are curled the slightest bit more. She had always been fiercely protective of you.

“My love, there's blood–” she starts, but you cut her off with a chuckle. “I know, one of the children already pointed it out.”

Then, your tone hardens. There's no need to wait to let her know. “I need to tell you something.”

“You should rest.”

You shake your head. “This comes first, Arlecchino.”

“You just came back.”

“Peruere,” you enunciate, quickly silencing the Knave. “I am fine,” you assure her with a stern tone but fond eyes. You let out a defeated huff, resorting to wrapping your arms around her and leaning your head against her shoulder to ease her and to conceal your pained expression as your body protested the movement.

Remaining in that position, you brief her on your mission and every single detail to it. From the process of researching and finding the opportune time to, to the actual execution of the assassinatin, which proved to be much more complicated and difficult than you were able to account for. This was due to the lack of information given to you once you were assigned. With the absence of partners and the omittance of crucial details, it is, undoubtedly, an attempt to sabotage you and cause you to fail. The two of you discussed what to do, going forward in cases like this, as well as potential suspects, their motives, and wouldbe gains. With each growing minute, Arlecchino held you tighter and you leaned in closer.

After the conversation finished, your husband quietly held you, without uttering another sound, for around half-an-hour, the two of you indulging in one another's company. You pull away with a kiss to her forehead.

“I promised the kids I would make cookies with them. Would you like some?”

Arlecchino knows better than to say no. She gives you a curt nod. You hum with acknowledgement to her answer, standing up from sitting on the bed. Almost instantaneously, the moment you stabilize yourself on your feet, your vision grows black and an abrupt throbbing comes to your head. You stumble forward, but catch yourself.

“Love–”

“I'm fine. Just stood up too fast,” you gruff, staggering your way towards the door but the limp is far too obvious. You only make it a few steps before you stumble over again, nearly hitting the floor if it weren't for Arlecchino’s quick reflexes. Stabbing pain surrounds you, and paired with your fatigued state, you no longer have the energy to ignore the agony. She cradles you in her arms and you glance up at her. Your sight swims, and her appearance keeps distorting before you. Clinging onto consciousness seems to be a losing battle.

“The cookies…”

“Forget about the cookies. You said you were fine,” Arlecchino scolded through gritted teeth, with some frustration and anger in her voice. Placing her arm underneath your back and underneath your legs, she carries you bridal-style, already rushing towards the medical bay.

“Stay awake for me. Stay awake,” it is a harsh demand, but you know it is nothing more than a desperate plea. Your eyelids droop and you close your eyes.

Arlecchino lets out an expletive under her breath, quickening her pace as she barges into the room. The specialized doctor for the House of the Hearth is startled, but the Harbinger's intense glower tells the doctor all she needs to know.

“Find out what is wrong with her, and fix it. Now,” the Harbinger orders, and the doctor goes into work immediately once your body is placed on the bed.

The Knave soundlessly watches the doctor's each and every action, refusing to budge by your side. Although she knows that medical treatment is not her expertise, Arlecchino cannot help but critique her doctor in her thoughts. Not fast enough, not effective enough, not enough for her darling who could be experiencing unbearable pain now.

The doctor works until she assures the Harbinger that everything that could be done is, and that you will wake in the following morning. Arlecchino wordlessly thanks the doctor but her hand that clasps yours doesn't move for even one movement. Eventually, night falls. Climbing into the small bed, she tenderly wraps her arms around you, unable to be pulled apart from you until she knows your safety is guaranteed. Underneath her skin, seething rage boils for the coworkers who try to deprive her of her authority and power, but most of all, for causing you in this state.

The next morning, Arlecchino's eyes flutter open when she feels the warm body next to her stir. She awakens to your soft smile.

“I said I was fine, didn't I?” You greet her with a twinkle in your eyes.

Arlecchino's heart swells.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fic #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fics #edgeray.writes #edgeray.requests

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 4 months

Note

hello lovie🫶🏻 as of the past mmm three days I’ve been coming back to your account and reading your tan fics, they’re just SO good!! I couldn’t help but maybe put in a request?? I’m not quite sure if you’ve done one of these before, but would it be too much trouble to do a sort of hurt/comfort type fic, where tan comes back from a mission absolutely tattered and beaten and reader instantly helps mend his wounds?? Idk what it is but I’m an absolute WHORE for these kind of fics. omg and reader uses rubbing alcohol on his cuts and stuff and he starts wincing and she goes “sorry, it’ll hurt” and he retorts with “really?? hadn’t noticed” or something like that HSJSKSN and throughout this WHOLEEE thing he’s just staring at her so lovingly and eventually they both lean in to kiss SJJWW IM SORRY BUT HES JUST SO AHHHHH😭🫶🏻🫶🏻lysm girlie, your writing makes me literally kick my feet, giggle and twirl my hair🫶🏻🫶🏻

hii omg omg thank you cutie!!!🤍 done a fair few of these but I love the wound cleaning trope ESPECIALLY with tan! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

CUTS AND SCRAPES.

tangerine x reader (gn) — fluff

word count. 790

!! blood mentions

No matter how late it would be when Tangerine returns home, you'd still wake to the sound of the front door softly closing - the sluggish footsteps of your lover creeping inside. And without fail, you would find yourself stepping down those stairs to greet him with a sweet, welcoming smile.

Though tonight —well, extremely early morning— when you heard him come through the front door, instead of hearing his usual exasperated sighs, you heard groans - like he was in pain. And without missing a beat, you followed that noise, feet cascading down the steps to check he was okay.

You find him in the kitchen, leaning over the island - dampening a cloth in the sink.

"What happened to you?" you ask, voice quiet as you look over his face - taking note of the cuts, bruises and the crusted, dried-bloody state of a nose. "You okay?"

"In fuckin' agony," he mumbles, wincing when he places the cloth to his forehead.

You walk around to meet him behind the island and reach into the cupboard under the sink, picking up one of the many med-kits around the house. Collecting a bag of frozen peas, you nod Tangerine over to the kitchen table, gesturing for him to sit in front while you lay the kit and bag on the surface.

He follows suit - taking a seat and scooching the chair closer to you, placing the bag of peas over his knuckles.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask, trying to ease him. You look up at him, turning your eyes away from the contents in the first aid kit - trying to gauge his response. "You don't have to... but it might help though."

He shakes his head faintly, sniffling in his usual mannish way. "No, I'm good, love," he dismisses.

You only nod, accepting that he'll come to you when he's ready. You slip on a pair of medical gloves and tear open an antiseptic wipe, hesitantly reaching for the cut on his forehead. "You ready?" you ask, pushing back a messy, unkempt curl with your free hand.

"Not particularly."

His apparent unease about the wound cleaning was almost endearing - it was oddly humanising to see the vulnerability in his usual cold assassin shell. Or the bravado he often puts on around others.

"I'll be gentle," you say, voice almost distracted as you carefully run the point of the cloth around the cut - cleaning it.

His face grimaces, his features pulling together uncomfortably.

"Sorry, this bit hurts," you try to comfort him, eyes glued on his forehead.

He hums shortly, the noise like an unamused 'humph.' "Ya'think? Hadn't noticed— fuck."

"You moved, I'm sorry. Keep still."

He exhales harshly, attempting to pull himself together. He prods the bag of peas with his other hand, trying to use it as a distraction as you finish up with his cut.

"Nearly done," you say, laying a plaster flat over his wound - soothing the sticky edges over his skin. You press a kiss into your finger and stamp it onto the covered dressing. "There we go."

Without thinking otherwise, you move on and attend to the other mild injuries - his knuckles up next. You remove the peas, placing them on the table while you slip your hand under his beaten one, holding his palm in your hand.

"Looks like you got a few licks in," you joke, nodding to his bruised, cut-up fist.

"Just a few," he jests, mindlessly grazing his fingers over the back of your hand - caressing you.

You laugh faintly, the sound amused. You run the damp cloth over his knuckles, cleaning up the residual flecks of red he tried to clean earlier.

Unbeknownst to you —your attention solely on his hand— he's looking at you, his expression like that of admiration. Half-lidded eyes scan you attentively, watching the way you care for him.

"Thank you," he says, words gentle.

You hum, peering up from his hand to look at him.

"I mean it," he emphasises, holding onto your gaze when you try to glance back down.

You squeeze his hand gently and press a kiss to his knuckles. Lips against his skin as you whisper. "I know."

And just as you're about to release his hand, his other moves to cup the side of your face - his grip light and tender as he pulls you in for a kiss. He lingers longer than necessary —longer than usual— as if to soak in the feeling of being back home and safe.

You pull away first, resting your forehead against his brow bone. "I missed you."

He thumbs over your cheek, his hold still faint on your face. "Missed you."

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine fluff #tangerine comfort

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bsd-elle · 2 years

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Thoughts on Buddy Daddies Episode 9

I have so many thoughts about this episode and it all stems from P.A works' fantastic SUBTLE writing choices.

This episode, on paper, sounds like a pretty cliche sports day episode, but they somehow managed to show us the character progression and the relationship progression between the characters.

The biggest progress we can blatantly see is Rei taking an effort to help Kazuki more.

And we can see that Kazuki reacts accordingly.

Kazuki is surprised by this development, and voices his concern.

Rei was genuinely impacted by the events in episode 7, realizing that he was pretty 'useless' when it came to raising Miri, and has taken the initiative to give a helping hand.

And what I love about that is, we know that Rei had absolutely no clue how to work a microwave or any basic cooking, so for him to automatically suggest and start making onigiri shows that either he had previously asked Kazuki how to make simple items, or two, he was more observant when Kazuki was cooking, because he wanted to be able to do more, do anything to make his little girl smile.

And it's so wonderful to see them actually bring up this plot point and continue it, rather than letting it be a one-off plot point.

They pick up on his interest to be more involved and we see him actually trying.

Knowing the unfortunate circumstances of his childhood, it's not that Rei doesn't want to help out or get into Miri's activities, but rather that he simply doesn't KNOW what to do. Doesn't know what's right.

His hesitance throughout the Episode is evidence of that, his hesitance to give Miri his riceballs.

He genuinely looks so sad, feeling like he can't compete with Kazuki's sheer talent with cooking.

His hesitance to even cheer for Miri.

Growing up in a family full of espionage and assassination, quietness and taking up little to no space must've been embedded into his system, into his psyche, and the fact that he's actively trying to be loud, to draw attention to himself, just shows the effort he's putting into taking care and raising Miri, something his father never attempted to try.

And both Kazuki and Miri appreciate his efforts.

They understand that he's trying and are so enthusiastic and receptive to his attempts.

Which is why he takes it to heart that Miri fell down because he was 'loud'.

I think, in that moment, he thought that he failed, that failure is never acceptable.

But, that final reassurance from Miri (in the cutest way possible), that he didn't fail, he didn't do anything wrong, and Miri considers them all to be a family, something he never had, something he's never known, that's all he needed to realize that, yes, maybe he'll fail, but at the end of the day, Miri is happy, and there's nothing else that matters.

The other one I wanted to talk about, which is definitely more subtle, but the progression of Kazuki and Rei's relationship is truly so beautiful.

Kazuki treasures the help Rei attempts and supports him in every way possible.

When Rei said that he wanted to make riceballs and was worried if Miri would like it, Kazuki instantly reassures him that Miri would love it.

In fact, he proudly proclaims to Miri that Rei would be making onigiri. And I'm sure that if he hadn't, there might be a chance that Miri wouldn't have been able to eat it, while Rei was clouded by his doubt.

When Miri says that she likes the onigiri and she thanks Rei, Kazuki immediately tells him, "hey, you did good, look our daughter agrees too. You're doing good and trying, and we both see that".

When Rei is drowning in his self-loathing about potentially causing Miri to lose the gold medal, Kazuki tries to reassure him and tell him that he didn't do anything wrong.

Finally, when they're walking back, Kazuki tells him that he's proud of him, that he worked hard, and you can tell that Rei really appreciated that, to know that his efforts were being accepted.

And that's why their relationship grows in such an organic manner, Rei puts in the effort, tries his best to help out to the best of his abilities, and Kazuki reassures him, let's him know about things that he would have no idea about, and vocally supports him.

And Miri, my sweet angel, with her bright personality and even brighter smile, constantly comforts both Kazuki and Rei, that she's happy, that they ARE a family.

The reason they are a family is because each one of them helps each other, is an equal part in the group.

And at the end of the day, they're just all trying their best, taking one step at a time, while the others, cheer them on.

(And this picture is the perfect symbolism of that sentiment, Rei awkwardly trying his best to smile, and Kazuki physically trying to bring him closer into the picture).

#buddy daddy spoilers #miri buddy daddies #rei buddy daddies #kazuki buddy daddies #buddy daddies #anime #manga #bd #kazuki kurusu #rei suwa #i had so much to talk about but I tried to concisely explain it even though I'm losing my mind #kazurei

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iliketangerines · 3 months

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I know it’ll be a while before you see this😭but your Erron Black fic (working relationship) inspired me to think of a cool (and kinky) idea:

There’s a part in the fic you wrote where Erron and the reader had fought off the vicious Outworlders from assassinating Kotal Kahn, but what if the reader WAS an outworlder trying to assassinate the Kahn. The attempt failed and she was imprisoned. Where am I going with this? I know some Mkx Outworld men aren’t that popular in the fic world, but what if Kotal sent his closest 3 adversaries to “punish” her efforts? Yes, I’m talking about the cowboy, soul boy, and lizard man.

Love your writing so much❤️❤️❤️

pay for your crimes

a/n: mm mm MM. also, i do NOT condone this behavior in real life

pairing: erron black x afab!reader x syzoth x ermac

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), noncon, slight pet play, orgasm denail, chest play, anal, double penetration, face fucking, gun play

you had been so close to killing the Kahn, blade just mere millimeters from his throat, your plan working perfectly to distract his guards

and then, a bullet had rang into your shoulder, giving the Kahn just enough time to pin you and cuff you, throwing you into the cells to draw some information out of you

Mileena had hired you, trusting in you to kill the Kahn, and you had failed, ending with a collar on your neck chained to the floor and your arms tied behind you

they had also taken the measure in chaining both of your ankles to the floor, every restraint drawn tight to make sure you had no leeway to even move a single centimeter

you had long lost feeling in your arms and your feet, and you can’t even hang your head to rest, the collar choking you if you even dared to move

it left you exhausted, muscles trembling with the effort to keep your legs straight as to not choke yourself by relaxing yourself

but it was only light torture, you could deal with this for a few more days, but still, the hours dragged on as your mouth became parched and your muscles burned with effort

the sound of the cell door creaking open catches your attention, and you don’t make a single sound as you watch three men walk in

it’s a strange group, one man dressed in a hat not of Outworld, a Zaterran, and the collection of souls that often sat at Kotal’s side

you can’t seem to care as you focus on keeping your neck straight so that you can breathe properly, but an irritated grunt leaves your mouth as they encircle you

there’s a look in the gunslinger’s eyes, a look you don’t quite like, and you bare your teeth at him, growling despite the little energy that you have left

he grins at you from underneath the mask, and he gets comfortable on the dirty prison floor, drawing his pistol out of its holder and using it to fix the tilt of his hat before pointing it lazily at you

you remain silent as he asks you questions about Mileena, where her camp was, what her next operations were, any information in general about the former Kahn

the other two simply wait patiently, boring holes into your back as they observe your figure, but you ignore them

she had only hired you as a contract killer, but you knew her personally when you had worked under Shao Kahn and Shang Tsung

your lips would remain sealed about her, and the gunslinger seems to realize it as well, sighing and bringing the pistol closer to you

he cocks it, the click echoing in the prison cell, and then he shoves it into your mouth, the taste of gunpowder and smoke laying flat on your tongue

it makes you grunt in surprise, and he cocks his head at the other two and the sound of shuffling and clinking fills the room as the chains on your ankle and collar loosen

your body sags slightly in relief as your legs relax, but the gun stays firmly in your mouth as the gunslinger says if you try anything funny, he’ll pull the trigger

you believe him, you’ve seen him in action before when you were studying the layout of the palace and the guard rotations and Kotal’s usual walking spots

it doesn’t stop you from huffing angrily, glaring at him the best you could muster while still kneeling on the ground before him, and he seems to smirk underneath the mask

Erron Black, he introduces himself, and then your hear the other two introduce their names, Syzoth and Ermac

two strong hands clasp onto your shoulders as the chains on your ankles fall away and the chain on your collar is unlocked from the wall

Syzoth hands the chain connected the collar to Erron, and he grins as he tugs at it slightly, making your mouth sink further on the gun and you to slightly choke on it

your hands flex, still restrained behind your back, and your legs don’t have enough blood in them to try and fight with only them

a scaly hand trails down your back, ripping at the cloth with its claws, and an icy hand of fear trails down along with him

the gunslinger moves to stand to your side, making your head crane along with him, and says to get to know their names well, you’ll be screaming them soon enough, and with a loud rip your shirt is ripped away from you

before you can even try and retaliate, an invisible force grabs onto your body and pulls your legs apart further than you thought they could stretch

it’s a sort of green energy surrounding your legs, and a faint green energy pulsates from Ermac’s hands as your eyes dart around to try and find the source of the control

Syzoth gets onto his knees first in front of you, his tongue flicking out and tasting the air, tasting the scent of your fear as the reality of the situation settles in

he lets out an airy laugh at the smell of it and coos at you, promising that it wouldn’t hurt too much, and his clawed hands twitch at his sides

his voice makes you shiver as he says that he’s had nowhere to release his pent-up energy, can’t go back to a home too far away, can’t touch the maids or the warriors

but you, a simple hostage who refuses to give up information, well, it gives them all a reason to release some energy and break you enough to force some information out of you

you want to scream and thrash, but the barrel of the gun sits heavy in your mouth and the green energy immobilizing your only means of escape left you complacent

Syzoth’s hand cups your chest, thumbs rubbing over your nipples, and the scales only add to the roughness and the stimulation

he sticks his tongue out into the air again, eyes transfixed on the way your nipples harden underneath his fingers, and his hands then roughy squeeze your chest

the claws dig into your skin, and you breathe out through your nose, closing your eyes to concentrate on anything else but this situation

Erron lets out a hum of disapproval and tells you to open your eye, to watch it all happen, to just give in and give them information on Mileena’s whereabouts

you open your eyes, mustering as much anger and vitriol in your gaze that you could as you stare up at him, and he only chuckles at the small show of defiance

a hand touches your back, tracing the muscle, dry and bandaged, and you know it’s Ermac tracing the skin on your back

his hands glow just a bit brighter, and your bottoms fall to the floor, leaving you with nothing to cover up your modesty

a slight growl leaves your throat, as a slow panic rushes through your body, and Erron simply tugs on the collar to get you to shut up, telling you that good little pets don’t growl

you don’t move, letting Ermac’s hands travel along your body, one hand groping at your ass and squeezing it roughly while the other snakes around to your front

his hand trails further and further down, cupping your sex but doing nothing else, simply enjoying the warmth emanating from your heat

then his fingers press into your skin, finding your clit and rubbing lithe fingers in practiced circles, and a small strangled sound leaves you throat

it had been a long time since you had ever done something anything even remotely similar to this, and it left you sensitive and unused to touch

Syzoth hums at the way your breath hitches, and he squeezes even tighter at your chest, licking his lips and then pinching at your nipples

a small yelp leaves your throat, and you try to focus on anything else, to not let your mind get pulled and pushed apart by pleasure as Ermac continues to rub at your clit and Syzoth tease your chest

but you’re quickly jolted out of your thoughts as the collar pulls at your neck and brings you back into the moment and staring up at Erron

out of the four of you, he seemed the least affected, but the bulge in his pants indicates otherwise, straining at the zipper and begging to be release

you’re pulled from that thought to the next as Ermac pinches at your clit, making your body jump in pleasure and pain, and your pussy clenches down on nothing

in spite of everything, you can feel yourself getting wet the longer Syzoth and Ermac tease and play with your body

Syzoth moves one hand away from your chest to wrap around to your back, gliding his fingers between your wet folds and humming at the slickness coating his fingers

his fingers move up and circle the rim of your asshole, and your eyes widen in surprise and fear as goosebumps erupt over your body

your breathing quickens for just a moment, enough for Erron to laugh again and tell you that they’ll make sure you’re nice and loose for Ermac’s cock

the gun presses against the back of your throat, and you try to calm yourself down, you don’t want to get shot in the head

Ermac hums at the mention of his name and moves his fingers down, sinking two fingers into your warmth without warning, and it makes your breath catch at the thickness of him

his fingers expertly curl in your warmth, pressing into your sweet spot and massaging it, and it sends pleasure blazing through you

your eyes slip close at the pleasure, and you thank the elder gods when Erron doesn’t tell you open them again as you try and take in everything

they’re tearing your mind apart with the stimulation on all sides, and it’s ripping your mind into a useless puddle that can’t think for itself

Syzoth hisses and sinks a slick finger into your asshole, and you finally let out a small whine at the pressure, gasping around the gun to try and struggle away

the gunslinger simply keeps a firm hold on the chain to your collar to make sure you couldn’t squirm away, and the glowing green energy around your legs only squeeze and keep you still

you can’t help but moan as Ermac fucks his fingers into your drooling pussy, palm grinding into your sensitive clit and how Syzoth pushes another fingers into your ass

breath heaves in your chest as pleasure blazes through you, sensitive and much too overstimulated, and you’re quickly hurtling toward the edge of pleasure

Erron grunts something out and suddenly they’re not touching you anymore, and you open your eyes as your orgasm slips away from you

he has a grin on his face, one that says he knows exactly what he’s doing, and you want to kill him, wipe that smug smirk off of his face

the gunslinger tuts at you as you struggle, pulling at the collar once more and making you gag on the loaded gun, and you breathe and calm down

you’re giving him a reaction, exactly what he wanted, and you breathe out through your nose to calm down, still mustering your best glare at him

Erron says something and suddenly the collar is being pulled at by the green magic, and Erron unbuckles his pants and pulls out his cock

it’s thick, flushed and leaking pre-cum, and he removes the gun from your mouth, covered in a new layer of shiny spit

you don’t speak as he taps the tip of his cock against your lips, pressing the end of the gun against the side of your head

the gunslinger takes a hold of the collar again, and then lightly taps the gun against your head, forcing you to open up your lips and take his cock into your mouth

it’s thick and heavy in your mouth, pressing down along your tongue and choking you, and your eyes water as he pushes in further and further, giving no remorse to how you start to choke and gag and struggle in your bindings

rather, the other two start touching you again, teasing you, fucking you slowly on their fingers, and laughing when you whine and whimper when they pull away

your pussy clenches desperately on their fingers, drooling and dripping onto the floor with the need to cum, but they deny you all the same

it’s a cruel agony, the lack of air causing your head to spin and the pleasure to intensify and curl and assault you from all sides

your mind is being pulled apart and put back together with each denied orgasm and with how Erron is just content to let his cock rest in your warm mouth

you’re not sure how much time has passed as they continue to tease you, fuck you on their fingers and bring you to the brink of insanity

the gunslinger finally pulls his cock out of your mouth, and you cough and wheeze as you breathe in lungfuls of precious air

he asks if you’re ready to talk, that if you give them information they’ll let you cum on their cocks, and you hiss at them and tell them to stick it

despite their efforts, you still had a bit of fight left in you

Erron sighs and shoves his cock back into your mouth, letting go of the chain to grip onto your hair and fuck into your face roughly

you gag and choke, squirming in your binds as it overtakes your senses, and you can barely process the fact the Ermac and Syzoth have undressed themselves

their cocks press against your entrances, and you can’t even scream as they start fucking into you with reckless abandon, ignoring your clit and avoiding your sweet spots to make you break

Ermac groans loudly as he fucks into your asshole, tight around him and not nearly enough lube, and with the added pressure of Syzoth fucking into your abused pussy, it’s too much for you to handle, blinding white pleasure snaking within you

their hands are all over you, grabbing and pulling and clawing, and your mind is being torn a million different ways, trying to recollect only to have its thoughts scattered with each thrust and scratch

you can’t handle it, it’s all too much, and all the energy leaves your body as you finally grow limp in their hold and they fuck into you like a toy

Erron pulls away from your mouth, letting you breathe as the other two fuck senselessly into you, and he asks if you have any information

you’re not quite aware of what comes out of your mouth, something spilling from your lips, and Erron smiles and pats your cheek, calling you a good pet before placing his cock against your lips

he pushes in, fucking your face just as brutally as before, and then Ermac’s fingers touch your clit, rubbing it back and forth and pushing you right over the edge

you sob as you cum, tears streaming down their cheeks, and Erron groans, pressing your nose into his pubic hair and cumming down your throat

there’s a lack of air, but you can’t even twitch to fight and slowly let the black dots take over your vision until the gunslinger finally pulls off

you breathe rapidly and feel the barrel of the gun be removed from your head, but Syzoth and Ermac still fuck into you with reckless abandon

he chuckles and says that they’re much harder to please, being of Outworld of course, you’ll be in here for a while with them

but they’ll make sure you cum, over and over and over again on their cocks, and with that Erron, buckles up his pants to give away the information you parlayed to him to Kotal

Syzoth lets out a low hiss, smiling at your fucked out expression, and Ermac keeps rubbing your clit roughly, leaving low grunts in the air

you were going to be there until they satisfied themselves, and they were hard men to please

#tangerine writes #tangerine answers #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #mortal kombat smut #mk smut #syzoth x reader #syzoth x you #syzoth smut #erron black x y/n #erron black x you #erron black x reader #erron black smut #ermac x y/n #ermac x you #ermac x reader #ermac smut

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flowerandblood · 10 months

Text

The Man with the Deep Scar

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: mention and description of the murder of multiple people, descriptions of wounds, virgnity loss, smut, angst, violence, suicide attempt, trauma, mourning ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

For as long as he could remember, their father had taken no interest in them, preferring his first-born daughter to his second wife's children. He hated her with all his heart, jealous that although he read extensively and was so skilled in hand-to-hand combat, the King only focused his attention on her.

He lived in a constant conviction of defeat − his grandfather incited his mother against his father by saying that if it went on like this it would be Rheanyra who would be chosen by him as heir to the throne, not Aegon, her first-born son.

The tension inside the fortress and their internal strife meant that they failed to see the threat that lurked outside. Discontent among their people was growing due to poor crops and famine − although the King showed concern about the whole situation, his grandfather, Otto reassured him that he had everything under control.

He only recognised how serious the situation was when it became apparent that an army was gathering near the city walls − the lords on whom gigantic taxes had been imposed demanded that the King abdicate and a new ruler be chosen from among the nobles.

House Targaryen had ruled the kingdom for centuries and his father had no intention of giving up the crown to anyone just because they willed it; he called all the lords rising against him traitors, demanding their heads.

However, when it became apparent that the most powerful of the lords, his father's former ally and friend, Lord Walford had risen against them at the head of a rebellion, taking their stronghold by storm, all was lost.

Hearing the sounds of battle and screams he ran to his mother's chamber wanting to make sure she was safe − she was packing up in a hurry and when she saw him she grabbed him by his arms and shook him.

"There is a passage under my bed to an underground shelter. You must press with your little finger the mechanism which is hidden in a small hole under the wooden panels. You and Daeron are to hide there, go get him at once." She ordered in a trembling voice, sweat droplets on her face.

He wanted to defy her, horrified by her condition, feeling that even though he was only twelve years old he was already a man, that he would not hide like a coward but would fight to defend her.

However, he decided that it was indeed necessary to hide Daeron somewhere and was already about to leave her chamber when Lord Walfrod's soldiers suddenly rushed in, their armour and swords all filthy with blood.

He only had time to scream when the blade of one of them swung and drove into his face − he fell to the floor with a loud whine, catching himself on his cheek, completely losing sight of his left eye.

He began to waddle across the floor in front of him towards the bed − he heard his mother screaming but didn't turn to look at her, terrified, thinking only of the fact that he didn't want to die, that he was scared, that he wanted to hide, his heart pounding like mad.

He managed with a shaking hand to find the hole she was saying about − when he slipped his little finger into it something clicked and the flap lifted. He crawled quickly down and closed it behind him, breathing loudly, panting all over, the voices above him muffled and indistinct.

The corridor he was in was very cramped, consisting only of a steep staircase leading down and walls all around him − with one hand he clutched at the painfully burning wound, feeling the warm blood run down his fingers, and with his other hand he began to slide down into complete darkness. He finally reached a sort of enclosed, stone-cold room.

He fell to his knees and wept loudly, his nose all stuffed up from tears − he felt sticky from his own wetness and blood. He was terrified, but most of all he could not forgive himself for running away like a coward, for leaving his beloved mother to die, Daeron and everyone else, for hiding instead of dying with them with honour.

He lay down on the stone floor and stayed like that, listening to the sounds of battle and screams, until there was complete, empty silence. The pain he felt on his left cheek was unbearable and he thought that although he had avoided a quick death, he would die here slowly, forgotten and abandoned.

He decided that he would rather bleed out or die of thirst and hunger than go out and give himself up to these traitors.

Staying in that dark, cold pit, he lost track of time − he didn't know if days or hours had passed. All he could think about was that the ache in his skull was unbearable, his wound oozed and smelled bad, his stomach twisted with pain, his lips dried with thirst.

He felt that he had fallen asleep only to wake up and cry loudly, wishing for nothing more than to find that his mother had survived, to return with his father and brother at the head of a great army and come to his aid.

He imagined that the wooden flap opened and his queen-mother appeared in it like an angel in a pillar of blinding light, that he threw himself into her arms with relief, hearing her tender reassurances that all was well now.

He shuddered when he heard the screech of wood and the sound of a trapdoor opening, the pillar of light coming from the side of the room almost blinding him and he had to take a few steps backwards, pushing against the wall, his heart pounding like mad.

"Is someone there? I can hear you crying. Let me help you, please, speak up." He heard a soft, feminine whisper echoing through the room − he felt a tightness in his throat recognising instantly that it wasn't his mother's voice.

What if it was a trick?

If there were guards with her, if they were about to come down and kill him?

"I will spend tonight with the King in his chamber. I will order my guards to rest and not watch over my rooms. I will leave the flap open for you to leave, on my bed you will find a hooded cloak, a sack of food and coins. Leave the keep through the kitchen rooms in the cellars. My servant will be waiting for you and lead you out. She will hand you over to your mother's friend, Ser Criston."

She said quickly and closed the trapdoor with a quiet creak of wood, the room again surrounded by complete darkness. He breathed loudly, hearing only the rapid beating of his own heart.

Should he believe her or not?

What if she was lying?

What if they were going to torture him?

He clamped his eyelids shut, feeling a terrible pain in his skull and decided that he couldn't take it any longer, that he wanted it all to be over.

He walked back and forth across the dark room, feeling a sudden rush of energy and adrenaline, the blood bubbling strongly in his veins. He jumped back when he heard the creak of wood, followed by someone's footsteps and the sound of a door closing.

There was complete silence.

He swallowed loudly; over these few days his eyesight had completely adapted to the darkness, so he confidently found the steps of the stairs with his hands and slowly began to climb up. He slid out from under the bed and listened for any sounds, however, there seemed to be no one in the room.

He crawled out from under the bed and stood up on trembling legs, looking around quickly but saw no one − on the bedding in fact lay a small cloak, a pouch of coins and a little bag of apples and bread. He took it all, quickly putting the cloak on, pulling the hood over his head and left the chamber, looking around in a panic, his wound hurt more than usual, all swollen and throbbing.

He knew the map of the fortress by heart and indeed had not encountered any guards on his way, so he ran towards the kitchen rooms and stopped, frightened, when he came across a woman. She looked at him horrified and almost screamed seeing his face, turning her head quickly, disgust and disbelief in her gaze − he stood in front of her wondering if she was going to start shouting.

"− gods, so it's true − poor child − come, we don't have much time −" She whispered looking around and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the servants' passage − they walked through the cramped, dark corridors, he could hear rats running past them, his heart pounding like mad.

After a while they reached a small wooden door, apparently intended for deliveries from merchants − the woman opened it and waved to a man dressed in a cloak, a hood over his head, he was standing next to a large cart harnessed to two horses, covered with a large sheet.

"− I got him − quickly −" She whispered to him, the man stepped forward to meet her, a sigh of disbelief escaping his lips when he recognised in him Ser Criston Cole, her mother's sworn protector.

"− thanks be to the gods − your merits will not be forgotten, woman − come, my Prince, we have no time −" He said impatiently, and he moved swiftly after him, jumping on the cart. Criston covered him with a sheet and after a moment he felt a tug − they moved off and he drew a loud breath, laying down on the wood beneath his feet.

He had escaped.

This woman had really helped him.

When his emotions wore off he immediately devoured the piece of bread and apple that the woman had bagged for him, feeling immensely relieved, no longer even thinking about the pain, just that he had survived.

He hoped Criston would take him back to his family, to those who had survived the massacre, that he would see his mother again soon.

As they stopped he heard Criston's voice speaking to someone, and then the sheet lifted, Cole and a man who looked like a monk stared at him in disbelief.

"− good gods −" Muttered a plump priest in a grey habit girded with a simple rope. "− what have they done to him? −"

First they bathed him and changed him into new robes, and then they took him to the medic despite his pleas that he wanted to see his mother and siblings first. Cole stood over him as they waited for the monk to attend to his wound, his face pale.

"− I'm so sorry, my Prince −" He said low, his voice trembling slightly, but he didn't need to say anything more. He felt a squeeze in his stomach, a burning wetness gathered under the eyelid of his healthy eye. He wept like a child even though he wanted to act like a man.

He thought that he had only survived because he was a coward.

When the medic arrived and saw the state he was in, he prayed first and said that it was a miracle that the infection had not killed him, that the wound needed to be decontaminated immediately and the eye had to be taken out.

A stick was placed in his mouth on which he was told to bite his teeth, having previously been given a huge amount of poppy milk and spirit to ease the pain, however, what he felt when his blade penetrated his skin and began to burn and cut away the dead, rotting tissue seemed like pure hell to him.

He fainted after a few minutes of writhing like an animal and muffled screaming, Criston was unable to look at it and walked out. He was left alone and thought that this was his punishment that was waiting for him from now on, punishment for his cowardice, punishment for not being able to behave like a man.

Darkness and loneliness.

He would not allow anyone to light the candles in his cell, which had previously belonged to some other monk, feeling wonderfully invisible there.

When he covered the small window at night with a thick black cloth he was once again in complete darkness, just as he had been when he had spent those few days that seemed to last indefinitely under his mother's chamber.

Criston had told him that his mother had died after several swords had repeatedly pierced her body, his father old and infirm to the point that he, like Aegon, Helaena and Daeron, had had their throats cut in their beds.

The whole attack had been premeditated − Lord Walford had pretended to be a friend of his father-king to the end, and now, from what he understood, he had been chosen from among these fucking traitors to be King and take his place on the throne.

Cole assured him that there were still individuals in the realm and lords who remained loyal to him, who wanted justice and the return of House Targaryen to the throne, who would support him if he wished to regain the crown.

He practised hand-to-hand combat with him every day in the great vaults of the men's monastery. Even though the new king's soldiers repeatedly searched the entire building, thinking rightly that they might have been hiding the prince out of sheer compassion, each time the monks warned them off and gave them time to find another refuge quickly.

He lived only for the thought of doing to the family of the new king what he had done to him.

He knew that he had time, that he could not rush, that this matter had to be carefully considered.

They met in secret in one of the strongholds of his father's former vassal, Lord Malet, who received him with great honours, gathering all his supporters there.

They discussed what to do, having an army smaller and less well supplied than the royal one, unable to act openly, treating the news that the prince was alive as something that could not come to light.

"I have my man in the King's closest guard; he is one of his ghosts. I pay him fairly for any information, he could bring someone else in there. Some spy. We would set up an ambush on one of the already existing ones, similar in size and weight − they wear the same clothes, if his behaviour did not arouse anyone's suspicion, no one would know." He said with conviction, and he licked his lower lip at the thought that popped into his head.

"I'll take his place." He said coolly, looking at the map of the fortress spread out before him on the large table, the lords looked at each other in surprise.

"What do you mean, my Prince? It's dangerous, it puts our whole plan in danger!" Exclaimed one of them, clearly horrified by his proposal − he chuckled under his breath, several of the men swallowing loudly, apparently wondering if he was still remaining in his senses.

"I am very familiar with this fortress and its customs, I will be able to keep up with what is going on there. When what we're speaking about becomes a reality, I need to be on the ground, taking charge and the throne right away." Said matter-of-factly, Criston grunted, looking at him uncertainly.

"This plan has some chance of success, but it would be best if you were not in front of the King himself, as he might order you to remove your mask in his presence. We cannot allow that to happen. It would be best if you served his son or daughter." He said looking around at the assembled crowd, the men looked at each other.

"We can arrange to ambush her at the fair. My ghost told me that she often sneaks past her guards without their knowledge. If someone attacks her, the King will reinforce her guard, perhaps appointing one of his ghosts to the task. When we find out whom, my man will kill him, and you, my Prince, will take his place."

He recognised that, although it was madness, it had a chance of success, and nothing pleased his heart more than the thought that he would be able to take the life of the man who had destroyed his family with his own hands when the time was right.

To his delight, it turned out that the lord's plan had worked and he had indeed appointed one of his closest guards as her protector. The man was killed later that evening, and he and Criston, under cover of darkness, made their way to the fortress from the side of a forgotten passageway that led out into the woods which had once been used to return from hunting.

One of the ghosts, with the help of a servant who was also involved in their conspiracy, dragged the murdered man out of the castle, and he immediately changed into his clothes.

Although they were a tad too tight, when he put on his mask he felt wonderfully peaceful − the darkness and silence that enveloped him made him feel again as he did when only blackness surrounded him.

Solitude.

The ghost explained the exact rules to him again and informed him where there was a place where he could sleep and rest, although, he said, he didn't think he would ever have the opportunity to use it − they only ate at night and usually slept standing or sitting up.

They parted in one of the passageways, and he moved with a confident stride down the corridor he knew well towards the chamber that had once belonged to his sister, and in which now slept this little whore. He saw the disturbed looks of the guards from afar and smiled at the thought that he would soon kill them all.

They needed to smuggle as many of their men and as many weapons into the fortress as possible.

"You may leave. From now on, the Princess is under my protection." He said coldly, one of the men snorted loudly, angry, he could smell the strong odour of alcohol from him.

"You are not a King, by what right do you command us?" He asked resentfully and he chuckled with amusement − he saw that the man looked at him uncertainly, with fear from which he felt pleasure and heat in his chest.

"Shall I inform the King that not only are you incapable of guarding his daughter, but you refuse to obey his orders?"

The man growled something under his breath, speaking of his insolence, walking away with his companion with a loud clang of their armour.

He hummed under his breath as he stepped against the wall facing her door, the door to his sister's chamber, and thought of Helaena, of how gentle and sensitive a person she was, of how she despaired even when one of them accidentally trampled a spider or a slug.

He thought of how she lay alone, terrified, dying slowly, coughing up her own blood, and felt a pain in his heart, swallowing loudly, his heart pounding hard.

He was comforted when the torches around him burned out and he was left at last in complete darkness − he closed his eyes and decided to rest, work out his plan in his head and wait patiently.

He shuddered and opened his eyelids, startled when he heard the loud creak of a door − a figure appeared in it illuminated only by the soft light of a candle, her large eyes looking at him with uncertainty and terror.

His jaw clenched in rage when he involuntarily thought she was beautiful, though he wished she would turn out to be a disgusting, ugly girl that no one would ever want.

However, he could not say anything about her appearance other than that her face was pleasantly fair, smooth and slender, her nose shapely and slightly rounded, her eyes sparkling, surrounded by a veil of long lashes, her long, slightly wavy hair and eyebrows seemed to him as dark as the night itself.

They stared at each other for a long moment without speaking.

"What's your name?" She asked suddenly, uncertainly, softly, with a kind of innocent curiosity from which he felt like laughing.

He didn't answer.

You are a mere whore, he thought with amusement, who wallows in riches filthy from my sister's blood.

"How am I supposed to address you if I don't know what your name is?" She asked, surprised by his lack of answer, but he just looked at her, wondering how she was going to force him to speak to her at all.

Ghosts could only speak with the King.

"Should I complain to the King about you not answering my questions?" She asked with a note of threat in her voice from which he clenched his teeth, letting the air out loudly through his nose, trying to calm himself, thinking only of the fact that meeting the King was the last thing he wanted.

He couldn't allow himself to order him to take off his mask.

"Call me any name you see fit." He answered her coolly, tired of her refusing to leave him alone. She shook her head as if she didn't understand the meaning of the words he spoke to her.

"Shall I name you?" She muttered in disbelief and he turned his head to the side, rolling his eyes, feeling that he was losing patience.

"Yes. My Princess." He said roughly and coolly, adding the last two words quickly, reminding himself that he had to title her in that disgusting way.

For now.

She stared at him for a long moment with those big eyes of hers and swallowed loudly, something on her face that looked like she had made her decision.

"Vhagar."

He felt a shudder when she said this − he remembered a book he had read when he was a small child about a great, terrible dragon that devoured people and burned entire cities.

Could it be that she had read it too?

"I will always treat you with respect and I will never make you do anything to humiliate you or offend your good name." She said with some kind of pain and regret, as if she sympathised with him − he felt his jaw clench tightly, felt for some reason a tightness in his throat at her words.

After a moment, the door closed behind her and he let out a loud breath, swallowing hard, wondering how he was going to stand it all.

However, it turned out that his suffering was rewarded, because already at supper the next day he heard some interesting information about where they were looking for his body, that the case had still not been abandoned.

He wrote a letter to Criston later that night informing him to leave some false trail in the city's vaults, his old child's robes or anything that would help them think they were on the right trail, which he passed on to a trusted servant aware of everything.

Everything was going according to plan until that little whore took him to see her mother.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of her chamber and heard her voice he recognised her and felt a squeeze in his throat, standing at the door, not knowing where to look, his heart pounding like mad.

The new King had locked his wife in the tower like some kind of animal.

He shuddered when he felt her gaze on him, her lips slightly parted, as if she really had seen a ghost.

"The gods are gracious." She whispered in a trembling voice − he felt a sting in his heart at the thought that he was only alive because of her.

"What?" Her daughter asked quietly, as if she didn't understand what her mother had just said, but she wasn't listening, staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and relief.

"You came for me like a death? Have you come to relieve my suffering at last?" She asked in a trembling voice shivering all over, pale and thin − he felt his lips involuntarily clench, his eyebrows twisted in pain, his heart pounding like mad.

"Mother, he is a guardian, he will not hurt you. He will protect us."

"Don't take her away. Have mercy on her and my son, they didn't know." She whispered pleadingly and he clenched his eyelids, thinking with rage and despair that Daeron and Helaena were innocent too.

"Stop, please. Please. You need to rest, mother. You need to eat and rest. I'll bring you some new books next time, all right?"

As they walked back downstairs he was completely immersed in his thoughts and wondered how it was possible that she recognised him. He shuddered, coming back down to earth when he heard her daughter's voice − she was leaning against a pillar with no strength, as if she was about to collapse to the ground.

"Kill me."

His healthy eye looked at her open wide in complete shock, he couldn't believe she had said that out loud.

Did she really mean it?

Involuntarily, his hand slid down to the dagger he had hidden under his cloak, he tightened his fingers on its hilt.

"Please, kill me." She whispered − he could feel his hand clamped on the weapon trembling all over, his jaw clenched so tight he thought his bones would break, his heart pounding like mad.

Don't take her away.

Have mercy on her and my son.

He swallowed loudly, thinking with pain that he would be just.

One mercy for one mercy.

His hand let go of the hilt, and she moved abruptly ahead, as if awakened from sleep, and spoke no more to him.

As soon as the door to his sister's chamber closed behind her, one of the ghosts came up to him and told him that he would replace him because the King wanted to speak to him. He nodded his head, tense, praying to the gods not to make him take off his mask.

He would have to kill him then, and he wanted to wait a little while, until they were better prepared.

He repeated to himself that he had to be patient.

That since he had endured so many years, he would endure a few more weeks as well.

He entered the chamber that had belonged to his father, originally in Targaryen red, now all in shades of blue − Lord Walford looked up at him from the book he had just read.

"Come closer." He said coldly, and he wordlessly obeyed his order, looking ahead indifferently with his hands clasped behind him.

"Did my daughter visit her mother today?" He asked, flipping the page with an aggressive, quick gesture that he noticed out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes."

The king hummed under his breath, stretching out comfortably in his richly decorated wooden chair.

"What did they discuss?" She asked lowly, and he licked his lips, wondering what he should say.

There were guards all around them, they could overhear their conversation, he couldn't come off as a liar in front of him.

He had to stick to his role.

"The Queen expressed disappointment that the young Prince was not visiting her. She also raised concerns that I was the personification of death, had come to bring her relief and take her life. She told me to spare her daughter and son because they did not know anything." He recited in a cold, dispassionate tone − the King sighed heavily, running his hand over his face.

"She has completely lost her mind. She keeps poisoning my poor daughter's head." He muttered, looking ahead with indifferent, enraged gaze.

"Take care of her."

He looked at him in disbelief, unsure if he had understood correctly what he expected of him.

"What do you mean, my King?" He asked lowly, uttering the last words with great difficulty. The man looked at him and licked his lower lip with impatience.

"It should look like she took her own life. Preferably a hanging. That will look the most natural. As long as she lives, our family will never move on."

Walking down the corridor towards the staircase to the chamber in which the Queen was being held, he took two vessels from his pocket, which he had kept for himself in case of need.

He walked all the way up, noticing that there were no guards or servants around, the door to her chamber open − she was sitting on her bed with her hands in her lap and looking towards him smiling, as if waiting for him.

"At last." She said softly, her skinny face as if it had taken on a flush. "I was hoping to see you one day. Believe me, there has not been a day in which I have not prayed for you."

He looked at her impassively feeling a tightness in his gut, playing between his fingers with the glass little bottle he held in his hand.

"You know what I came for." He said matter-of-factly, and she nodded and laughed lightly.

"I've waited a long time for this. For freedom." She replied − suddenly it seemed to him that she was completely sober and awake, that she had known perfectly well all this time what was happening to her.

She was waiting for him to come back and kill her.

He thought with surprise that something moved him at that thought.

"I have a proposition for you, my Lady." He said finally − she looked at him sleepily, wrinkling her brows.

"I will spare your daughter and your son if I gain your family's support in taking the throne." He said lowly, raising a hand with a small vial in front of him, waving it in front of her.

"Black Tears. That is the name of what I now hold in my hands. A few drops are enough to fall into a deep sleep − a person's heart beats slower, their pulse cannot be felt. However, if one drinks too much, one may not wake up again. Do you understand?" He asked coldly − she looked at the liquid and then at him, disbelief in her gaze.

"I'll help you escape."

When it was all over he informed the King that according to his will his spouse was dead. He came to her in his own person and sat down beside her on the bed, touching her cheek.

"Did she suffer?" He asked as if in pain, thought for a moment that he regretted his decision.

"No. She just fell asleep."

The King ordered that her body be prepared respectfully for burial and that he contact the prior of the monastery on his behalf to conduct the ceremony.

This is what he had been waiting for.

"She is alive. Move her to the monastery and inform her family what her king-husband wanted to do. Criston will give her an infusion that will wake her up. It is best if she vomits a few times, she may also have a fever and be weakened." He said to the man who had been like a second father to him during his years of solitude.

The monk looked at him in horror, both of them standing over her body in the small castle chapel that had once belonged to his mother.

"− you risk a lot −" He said, afraid to use his title aloud − he hummed under his breath, looking at her indifferently.

"− I am paying my debt − you always told me that a just King must be merciful − did you not? −" He asked coldly, the man swallowed loudly and looked again at the body of the sleeping Queen.

"We must change the body and put it in the coffin at once. Tell the King that there are nasty marks on the Queen's body, probably indicative of the injection of poison. He will then not allow the lid to be opened and will order a burial as soon as possible." He said indifferently and walked away, leaving the monk with his words.

When he returned he headed for the King's chamber and announced to him that everything was ready for a quick, trouble-free burial. The King showed satisfaction at the speed of his work and praised his organisational skills, glad that his face was obscured by a mask so that he could not see how wide his smile was.

Your end is coming, he thought with amusement.

"Summon my daughter." He said, putting a bite of roast into his mouth.

He wasn't surprised by the Princess's reaction to what her father had said, he wasn't surprised that she didn't believe it, that she ran towards the chamber where she had spoken to her mother only hours before.

He moved quickly after her, seeing that she was in complete hysterics, and thought that she looked just like he had when her father's soldiers had entered his mother's chamber.

"You fucking bastard!" She shouted wrestling with him desperately, trying to hit him with a candlestick, but he caught her easily, her wrists slender and petite − he thought if he put any more strength into his grip he would break her bones.

"− tell me where she is − please −" She mumbled looking at him pleadingly, the candlestick fell out of her hand with a loud clink of steel against the stone floor.

She was despairing, her face all red from tears, her lips puffed up and glistening − he thought there was something beautiful, noble in her suffering.

"− please − please, Vhagar, I don't want her to be alone −" She whined, and he swallowed loudly at the thought that her father hadn't told her everything, that she thought her mother was still alive.

"It's too late. She didn’t suffer."

She spilled into his hands, what he had told her was too much for her mind and heart − she fainted from grief and pain and he caught her in his arms at the last moment.

He picked her up and started down the stairs with her, her head resting against his chest − he thought she was incredibly light and soft, her pleasant scent filling his entire lungs.

He carried her to her chamber and laid her limp body on her bed. He sat down in the chair beside her, spreading himself out comfortably, taking satisfaction for some reason that he could shamelessly look at her from so close.

Her shoulders were bare − the sleeve of her gown slipped off one of them, exposing her naked skin in a way that was inappropriate to say the least.

He had spent eight years of his life within the walls of a men's monastery, devoting himself to training, reading and prayer − the last thing he thought about when dreaming of reclaiming his rightful throne were women and the frailties of the human body.

He shuddered when her body moved − her eyelids parted suddenly, her vision hazy and dreamy, the darkness clearly startling her and it took her a moment to realise where she was and what had happened.

Her face finally turned towards him and she froze, her eyes opened wide in horror, her lips began to tremble − he felt like he saw a flash of a tear run down her cheeks.

"You were supposed to protect her." She uttered in pain. He looked at her with an indifferent expression on his face wondering if she would have thrown herself at his neck if she had found out he had helped her mother escape.

"I did." He saw that she furrowed her brow, furious, so he continued, wanting her to understand exactly what order her father had given him.

"I showed her mercy. Your father the king wanted me to make it look like she took her own life. I gave her poison, after which she just fell asleep, although he suggested hanging. He thought it would look more...natural."

He saw that her eyebrows arched in pain and regret − she pressed her lips together and closed her eyelids, turning on her side, curling up like a small child and huddling in her furs, seeking refuge in the warm fabric.

"When will it be made official?" She asked trying to feign calm, her voice trembling however, betraying her pain and suffering.

"Tomorrow morning the kKng will convene a gathering and announce the sorrowful news."

She raised her gaze to him, he felt something change in the expression on her face − she was thinking hard about something.

"Do you still have that poison?" She whispered and he felt his heart begin to pump the blood faster through his veins − he pressed his lips together and swallowed loudly, wondering if she was really planning to do what he suspected her of doing.

"…yes."

He looked at her in disbelief as she held out her slim, smooth hand to him, trembling slightly, hanging in the air.

"Have mercy on me too." She said softly, pleadingly, warmly − he hesitated, unsure of what he should do.

He had promised her mother he wouldn't kill her with his own hands, but he hadn't said he would stop her from committing suicide.

He got up slowly from his seat with a loud creak of the old wood and pulled out a small vial of leftover poison, enough to kill her. He walked over to her and handed it to her, looking at her with some kind of wide-eyed excitement, wondering what she would do.

He thought she was only pretending, that she wanted to arouse his pity, that she hoped he would stop her at the last moment.

"Is it going to be painful?" She asked in a trembling voice, looking at him helplessly, his heart pounding like mad − he could feel the cold sweat running down the back of his neck.

"No. You'll just fall asleep." He replied softly, and she sighed quietly, as if relieved, startling him when she opened the vial in a perfectly confident motion and immediately tilted its entire contents down her throat.

She swallowed loudly and looked at him with big eyes, horrified as he was by what she had done, by the knowledge that she was going to die, and lay back, tears of sadness, grief and fear running down the sides of her face.

She looked like a small child.

"Will you stay with me?" She asked in a trembling voice filled with despair and sorrow − he felt his heart sting, only realising a moment later that he was breathing heavily through his mouth.

"Yes." He whispered, noticed how involuntarily her head slowly slid to the side, her eyelids closed, her lips slightly parted.

She did it.

She couldn't take it and took her own life.

He went to her, pulling the black leather glove from his hand and touched her neck. He pressed his lips together, still sensing her pulse, wondering strenuously whether to let her die.

If it turned out that the King's daughter on his watch had died, he would have to kill him outright.

They weren't ready yet, they needed the support of her mother's family.

He clamped his eyelids shut and sighed heavily, taking her hair from her face with his fingers and swallowed loudly at the thought that her skin was incredibly warm and soft − he ran his fingertips over it for a moment as if it were a sheet of water before he reached into his coat pocket and took out a second vial.

He took the cork out of it, caught her cheeks in his hand and poured its contents down her throat, lifting her so that she didn't suffocate, her body began to shake.

She snorted loudly and squeezed him tightly − he reached quickly for the bowl of fruit standing next to her bed and dumped it on the stone floor, placing it under her mouth before her body shook with convulsions.

"Come on, you have to get it out of your body. Yes, there we go." He whispered as she began to vomit − he looked at her and thought with surprise that for some reason he felt relieved.

She was merely a tool in her father's hands, just like him, surrounded only by a terrifying, cruel, cold darkness.

He thought with some kind of pain, watching her as she fell asleep, shivering with fever and fatigue, that she was as alone as he was. He covered her with thick furs and lasted by her side all night without a wink, wanting to be sure she was still alive.

He was shocked to see that the next day, despite her fever, she got up as if nothing had happened, ordered her servants to help her dress in a black gown even though her father had not yet declared mourning.

Her expression of defiance, her expression of strength.

She was so pale that when he saw her walking in a small procession behind the coffin, he thought she really did look like a ghost − he had the feeling she was about to collapse, yet she walked ahead, her gaze distant, cool and empty.

He watched as she smiled at her father, as she pretended in front of him only to see complete emptiness appear on her face when he disappeared from her sight, a coldness in her gaze from which for some reason he felt a pleasant tickle in his fingertips.

"It's time to go back." He said finally snapping her out of her lethargy. She walked over to the grave where she believed her mother rested and placed her hand on it, tired and filled with pain.

"No. I won't leave her alone this time."

He looked at her impassively, for some reason feeling that he understood her, that like him she blamed herself for not protecting her mother.

They had both lost them at the hands of the same man.

"She's free now." He said calmly.

It wasn't a lie.

He had never lied to her.

She looked at him in a way that made him lift his chin higher, challenging her. She approached him slowly, her face enveloped in a black veil seemed even more mysterious and disturbingly beautiful to him, as if she were not human, her shape seemed slightly blurred to him, as if she did not really exist.

He drew in a loud breath when he felt her hand on his chest, her lips placing a kiss on the cold mask that covered his face in the place below where his cheek had been. He looked at her in disbelief as her hand stroked his mask, smelling the pleasant scent of her skin, a mixture of lavender and chamomile.

"This is my expression of gratitude for your dedication to the affairs of our family." She said with feigned tenderness, her puffy lips slightly parted, her gaze indifferent, sharp, dark. He felt a throbbing inside his breeches and swallowed loudly, embarrassed and horrified by his body's reaction.

He thought, following her back towards the keep, that they were the same.

That as King he would need a Queen, a woman who would give him offspring and extend his line.

What would unite the realm more than the marriage of two conflicted sides, bringing peace and order at last?

He thought about it watching her while she was bathing, when she let him stay, saying he could watch − he was completely hard at the thought that when it was all over he would take her for himself, that this warm, soft body with pleasant, girlish shapes that peered through from under her wet chemise would be his alone.

He thought of this only to clench his hands around her neck a moment later, watching her terrified face trying helplessly to catch its breath after thinking horrified that she had ruined everything.

She had found the passage.

Why, why couldn't she just leave it all?

Why was she forcing him to do this when only he could give her freedom of life or death?

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against hers − he let out a growl of rage and let her go, heard her draw in the air loudly as she looked at him with a gaze full of terror and disbelief, her lips swollen and red from the blood that, through the adrenaline, flowed quickly through her veins.

She was beautiful.

He sighed heavily, involuntarily clinging to her − she trembled all over trying to push him away, but he was stronger than her. He began to rub against her body with his swollen cock and parted his lips, feeling his manhood respond with a strong pulsing, wave after wave of hot, tickling pleasure flowed through his lower abdomen.

"You are my curse. My ruin." He exhaled, looking closely at her face, her dark, wonderfully long eyelashes surrounded her eyes, staring at him with disbelief, fear and something that made him hot, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her full, moist lips parted slightly − he thought he would have killed for the chance to taste them. "My doom."

He shuddered and lost his breath for a moment when he felt her hands let go of his chest and slide down to his hips, her thighs spread out in front of him, her fingers tightening on his flesh, pressing him tighter against her − she sighed quietly beneath him, breathing louder and louder.

"− destroy me − leave me with nothing −" She whispered; he felt a powerful shudder run through him and he thought it was over, that he had to do it, that he had to feel her.

He didn't believe it when he felt her own hands help him untie and slide down his breeches, he didn't care if she changed her mind − he wanted her and took her. He forced his way inside her with difficulty, her fleshy walls clenching against him, resisting him, a whimper of discomfort escaping her lips.

He was panting and moaning along with her, sliding into her with effort all the way in, with a natural, subconscious movement beginning to root into her, delighted at how tight and warm she was, how with each thrust of his hips he slid into her with increasing ease, his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

She was wet.

"− good gods, you are fucking enjoying this −" He muttered with a sneer and groaned low, feeling her clench tightly around his manhood − he began to slam into her harder and faster, feeling that something was happening to him, some kind of tension was rising and rising, he felt like his cock was about to explode.

And then it happened.

He came inside her, for the first time in his life he experienced fulfilment and it was so stupefying and pleasurable that for a moment he was just panting with his eyes closed, rooting into her again and again, trying to prolong it, listening to her mewling of pleasure, her cheeks wonderfully pink, her gaze misty, her lips parted sweetly.

He stared at her thinking about the fact that he had filled her to the brim with his seed, that he felt fulfilled as a man, as a lover, as a husband, as a King, as anyone he wanted to be.

He had taken for himself the woman he desired and filled her with himself.

Was there anything more natural?

However, he quickly regained his sobriety of mind as did she − they pulled away from each other, terrified. He slid out of her and she moved away quickly, covering her thighs, panting loudly, looking at him in horror, clearly thinking he was still going to try to kill her.

He reached up quickly and tied his breeches, looking at her in disbelief, his manhood still all wet from her juices, from what had flowed out of her after she had reached her peak with him deep inside her.

He looked at her and thought only of the fact that he had never experienced something so pleasurable before in his life.

That through his seed she could soon carry his child in her womb.

That she would become his Queen.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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