#hel liked adonis no matter how he looked but she likes him being him she so wants to kiss him

[creamecream]

“Yes, the boa was a marvelous idea, my darling! you look like a pretty little dressed up doll!”

“Hel! I got a haircut! look! look!”

Aphrodite and Hel’s designs made by @abyssnighthawk

Bubble Bath belongs to @abyssnighthawk and I

[villainousshakespeare]

In The Timing

Tom Hiddleston/Reader

Rated E 

Warnings: Smut, Angst, *But in this chapter only FLUFFFFFF with a teasing mention smut 

Chapters: 4 of 4 + Epilogue

After a horrible first date, you end up at a pub filled with University students. You are feeling rather old and sorry for yourself, until a blond haired Adonis strikes up a conversation with you. Obviously he is too young for you, but what could a little flirting hurt?

@yespolkadotkitty @hopelessromanticspoonie @nonsensicalobsessions @caffiend-queen @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @vodka-and-some-sass @arch-venus25 @devikafernando @devilish–doll @hiddlesholic @just-the-hiddles @kellatron55 @myoxisbroken @wrathkitty @shae-annelore @kellatron55​ @from-hel-i-with-love​  ciaodarknessmyheart

Chapter 1 - First Meeting

Chapter 2 - The Morning After

Chapter 3 - Years Later

Chapter 4 - Time’s Up

Epilogue

"Ladies and gentlemen, you know my first guest as Loki the God of Mischief and The Night Manager. His new movie,  In The Timing, is currently nominated for a slew of awards, including the Oscar for Best Picture. Please welcome back to the show Mr. Tom Hiddleston."

You smiled as Tom jogged out onto stage to thunderous applause. Or maybe "thunderous" wasn't quite right. Thunderous implied deep, and the cheers for your man were much higher in pitch, clearly spearheaded by all of the overeager women in the audience. You couldn't really blame them. In his monochromatic blue suit and leonine mane of hair, Tom was definitely scream worthy. Still, that didn't mean you wouldn't take great delight in teasing him about his status as heartthrob later.

The response to  In The Timing had been incredible, with glowing reviews and box office receipts that were much higher than expected for an independent romantic comedy. Now, with the studio making a push for it on the awards circuit even more people were coming out to see the movie that was your labor of love in more ways than one.

All of this was wonderful for you and Tom, as you were both receiving accolades and prizes for your disciplines, but it also meant an endless round of press junkets, talk show appearances, and gala screenings all around the world. Most of the weight of this, of course, centered on Tom's deliciously broad shoulders, but you had your own share of speaking engagements as well. To your amusement, he had insisted that the studio coordinate your schedules, so that you were promoting in the same city at all times. He had just gotten you back, he insisted. After seventeen years apart he was not going to spend one night separated from you if there was anything he could do about it.

You were only too happy to go along with this plan. The state of pure euphoria you had been coasting through your days in had come to a screeching halt the first time you were asked to get up onto a stage in front of a thousand people and answer questions about your process and the characters you had imagined. Only Tom, standing to one side of the stage like a proud and nervous papa watching his child win her first spelling bee had kept you grounded. Every time you started to falter, you would look over and see him practically speaking for you with his body language. It would make you giggle inside how earnestly he watched you, reacting to the questions with amusement or indignancy on your behalf. What did it matter, you realized, what anyone else thought of you, when the over grown ginger in the wings believed in you so completely.

That didn't mean, of course, that you would let him off the hook for the swooning fangirls. Someone had to keep his head from becoming too big to fit through the door.

"So, Tom," Colbert was saying as you focused on the interview, "I hear you've got a new picture out."

"I have," he answered with a smile, playing along with one of his favorite hosts. Between the Hank Williams duet and the Hamlet soliloquy, Colbert was right up Tom's alley.

"Yeah, I hear it's pretty dreamy. Or rather you are pretty dreamy in it."

"I don't know about that," Tom chuckled with humility, face going a bit red. "I don't know who would have told you such a thing."

"Oh, my female staff, my daughter, my wife..." Stephen deadpanned as the audience laughed. "What is it about this film that is so... I believe the word was "swoony"."

"Swooy? An excellent word. From the old English geswogen, meaning "in a faint"" you rolled your eyes as Tom pontificated.

"If you say so," Stephen laughed.

"I would say that it's the waistcoats, Stephen," Tom said with an impish grin. "They are rather constraining, depriving the wearer of appropriate oxygen. Hence the swooning."

"I see. Interesting. Now, this is a romantic comedy. Normally those are not big Oscar bait movies. Oscars tends to go more for tradgedy or history... the feel good tropes.

"Exactly," Tom laughed along.

"So what is it about this movie that makes it so appealing to awards voters? Is it the waistcoats?"

"Maybe," Tom smiled. "Maybe it's the waistcoats."

He was so charming, you thought you could feel the adoration from crowd washing towards the stage. He would be on cloud nine tonight, you knew. Tom feeded off of the energy of a crowd in a visceral way. It wasn't ego, exactly, or at least not just. It was the validation of his hard work, and the knowledge that he had shared something with an audience that had touched them on a personal level, made them experience something as a communal group.

With a smug smile you wondered if he would be able to wait until you were back to your hotel tonight before sharing that excitement with you, or if you would have to find a closet or some other private room to slip into for half an hour or so. Over the last few months there had been a number of times when, sometimes for no other reason than a look you had thrown at him, Tom had siezed you by your wrist and dragged you to some semi-secluded spot to have his way with you. Hell, once or twice you had even been the one to push him into an alcove and reach for his zipper. Your relationship all those years ago had been marked by insatiability for eachother, and if anything the years apart had only added to the ferver to touch, taste, and fuck eachother senseless.

"Along with the costuming, which is brilliant - bless our wonderful costuming department - I think the thing that sets this movie apart is its writing," Tom was saying, throwing an adoring glance in your direction. "It really gets to the heart of what it means to be in love. How we, as human beings, with all our foibles and idiosycrosies can be our own worst enemies in the persuit of our heart's desire."

And seriously, how could you not love this man to distraction? 

"The course of true love never did run smooth," Colbert threw in.

"Exactly. Shakespeare said it best as usual. But do you know which character that was?"

"Helena, Midsummer Night's Dream," Stephen said uncertainly.

"Close, very close," your walking Shakespeare anthology smiled sugly. "Hermia. Act I, Scene 1 I believe."

"I'll take your word for it," Colbert surrendered to the master. "So, you're nominated for a slew of awards - a BAFTA, a SAG, an Oscar... is there anyone that you are really gunning for? It's the Oscar right?"

"Well, sort of," Tom hedged.

"What do you mean sort of?"

"I am enormously flattered to be nominated for all of them, of course, and so excited for the film to be recieving so much love. But the award I'm most excited for isn't an acting award for me, or even Best Picture. It's the Adapted Screenplay Award."

"And why would that be, Tom Hiddleston?"

"Well, as I mentioned before, the writing, particularly the dialogue, is truly the star of this picture."

"Uh-hu. No other reason?" the host prodded. "I know you're a private man when it comes to your relationships..."

"With reason, you have to keep a bit of life for yourself."

"Of course. So, what do you want to share with us Tom?"

"Well, it just so happens that the writer of this particular movie is someone very close to my heart," he smiled a dopey smile that made your stomach do filp-flops.

"How close exactly are we talking?" Stephen asked, also shooting you a look.

"Well, Stephen," Tom grinned, "it just so happens that this particular author, this beautiful, brilliant, compassionate woman, has recently become closer to me than people may realize."

"Really?" Stephen grinned back at him. "You know, it just so happens that I see her standing there in the wings. Shall we invite her out here?"

"Well..." Tom threw you a smile, eyes saying that he knew he would be in trouble later, "I really do think that she deserves to be the one sitting out here discussing the movie. She is the reason it is a success after all."

"What do you think ladies and gentlemen?" Stephen asked the audience as you glared at both of them. "Shall we bring her out?"

As a chorus of enthusiastic yeses assailed your ears, you vowed that you would make Tom pay for this later, possibly ususing the pair of fur lined cuffs he didn't think you knew he had purchased when you were strolling through the village the day before. Resigning yourself to your fate you sighed and nodded you head once to their entreating glances.

"Ladies and gentleman, she is the writer behind In The Timing Victoria Thomas," you still were not used to hearing your pen name spoken out loud as often as it was, or responding to it. You were going to have to do something about that soon, you thought.

"That is her pen name, indeed," Tom said as you walked slowly out on stage, glad that you were dressed in a chic Calvin Klien dress that flattered your figure, "I hope you will all join me in welcoming the newly minted Mrs. Hiddleston!"

  It had been a complete suprise. You and Tom had been walking through Central Park, Bobby frisking around you as he chased invisable prey. Your fingers were linked together, and Tom had at least somewhat learned to shorten his long stride to make up for your significantly shorter legs. After a bit of wandering, you had made it to the Shakespear Garden near both Delacourt Theater and Belvedeare Castle, and Tom had pulled you down beside him on a stone bench.

  "This garden," he told you conversationally, "has every flower the is mentioned in Shakespeare's plays planted in it."

  "That's so interesting," you teased, even though you did find it interesting, you loved to give him a hard time over his love of all things Shakespeare.

  "All of those flowers," he went on as though you hadn't spoken, "and not one of them is close to being as beautiful as you are."

  "Tom," you sighed dreamily, snuggling against his chest. Honestly, how had you gotten so lucky?

  "Darling," he said, a nervous tone creeping into his usually confident voice. "I wanted to ask you something."

  "What's that?" you said lazily, enjoying the smell of his skin as he kissed the top of your head.

  "Would you look at me love?" he asked.

  You lifted yourself off of his chest to see an anxious expression to match his voice.

  "I know that we have not been back together for long," he began, hands figiting, "but I think you know how much I love you."

  "I do," you smiled at him. "I love you too."

  "And we have, if you think about it, known eachother for almost two decades."

  "I suppose."

  "Given that, and that I don't think I will survive parting from you again," detaching himself from you, Tom dropped down onto one knee and your mind went blank. "My darling love, will you marry me?"

  You gaped at him in stunned disbeleif, unable to move or speak as the sun glinted off of his copper curls. As your eyes met his you saw a look of hope begin to shade into panic, and realized that you had not given him an answer. Just as you were wondering how mouths and tongues worked, Bobby barked loudly and jumped up onto the bench beside you, breaking the spell that you had been under. You burst out laughing, and after a moment so did Tom as Bobby licked at your face.

"Upstaged by my own dog," he grumbled good naturedly, some of his confidence coming back as you were beaming at him. "  B ut come, darling, ' what sayest thou then to my love? speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee  .'"

  "I say yes," you smiled at him as he rose to spin you off your feet in a circle. "Of course yes, Tom!"

  Two days later, in a quiet ceremony attended by just imediate family flown in secretly and his ever vigilant puplicist Luke, the two of you were married in the same spot by your fiesty dirctor Susie, who had obtained her liscense online for the occasion. It was peacful, and even if one or two persistant pedestrians had been able to snap a quick picture of you in your ice blue dress and Tom in a perfectly tailored Ralph Lauren suit, Luke had been able to keep any whisper of it out of the press. As gossip control went, it was a minor miracle.

"So, you two crazy kids tied the knot, huh?" Stephen asked as the crowd finally died down.

"Yes," Tom said quickly, looking a bit nervous. "Though as you may be able to tell by the expression on my beautiful bride's face, we hadn't made the announcement public yet."

"Oh that's okay," Colbert waved it off, "they won't tell, will you guys?"

The crowed laughed at the notion of it staying a secret after such a public announcement.

"Well, congratulations Tom, and to your lovely wife, my condolences."

"Oh, I think Tom's the one who's going to be needing condolences soon," you joked, and Tom gamely winced, though his eyes said he wasn't sure how much you were joking.

"So, why did you agree to marry such an obvious fixer upper?" Stephen asked you. "Couldn't you find anyone good looking?"

"It's a struggle, Stephen," you sighed and the audience laughed, as you had married, by your own reconning, the most handsome man on the planet. "But, well, I'm in love you see."

"Ah," he nodded sagely.

"Yup, I'm in love with Bobby, and the only way to get the dog was to say yes to the man."

"My evil plan worked, you see," Tom chimed in, laughing his endearing ehehe

"You used the dog to get the woman? That's next level planning!"

"Well you see, Stephen," Tom said, staring into your eyes with an intensity that made you forget you were on national TV, "I have been in love with this particular woman for seventeen years. And if it had taken adopting an entire three ring circus to finally get her to marry me, that was what I was going to do. Fortunately for our home, one adorable Spaniel was all it took."

"Seventeen years? Really?" Stephen looked back in forth between you, a wealth of unanswered questions in his eyes.

"Indeed. She led me quite a chase, but I wore her down in the end."

"I have a feeling there's a story here," the host said, in huge understatement, "but I'll wait until your next visit for that."

"I'm afraid that story is not suitible for television," Tom demured.

"Well, can you at least give any advice to the fans out there? Some help for the lovelorn?"

"Well, in the end," he said, giving it his usual deep thought, "all I can say is it's all in the timing."

"And that, my friends, is what we call a segue. You can catch the movie in theaters now."

Tom glanced over to you and winked with a cocky grin, and you thought of all the things that had gone between you, the years and passion and the love. You loved this man with everything you had. He might be insufferable, he might occasionally push you beyond your comfort level, but you knew in that moment and every moment that you were loved with a fierce, constant heart. It was the happy ending you had always dreamed of. And it was yours.

                       Notes:        

Thank you all so much for reading. It has been a wonderful story to write.

[ad1thi]

the second (love of his life)

the title is deliberately obtuse cuz why not?

--

all credits for this idea goes to  @winteriron-trash ; i’m lucky she’s letting me play around with it

--

based on this post: [x]

--

It was in times like this, Bucky mused as he slashed his blade against yet another HYDRA head, that he really resented his father’s choice to make him the God of Fertility

Love was fine

Bucky loved Love

He loved resting his rifle against his shoulder, and carefully aiming his bullet at his chosen target, watching their lives move and shift in immense ways to accommodate the flutter in their heart

Granted, he wasn’t always successful (he didn’t care what Steve said, Helen of Troy was a clusterfuck of epic proportions) but he liked to think he had it down quite well

Plus he got it, being so swept up in his emotions that nothing and nobody else mattered (fucking Adonis and his blue eyes)

He was in love with God of War, Steve after all

--

It happened, as most things do, with a love affair

Bucky was particularly bored one day (Steve was off making some war happen down on Earth) and he decided it would be fun to create some drama

He cocked his rifle, and scoured Earth until he found a particularly drab German officer who looked like he could do with a little colour in his life, aimed, and shot

He watched the ripples of his effect, immediately; how Joann Schmidt rallied troops around him and lead this brilliant rebellion right under Adolf’s nose, all in the name of wooing Adolf’s wife

Honestly, he was having such a swell time watching the whole thing unfold, plus it had made the war much more interesting (which meant Steve would be happy); that he missed all the indicators that Joann was a demi-god (one of Steve’s; because the Fates hated him) and he completely missed the ambush

Joann captured and sedated him before Bucky could even open his mouth, and chained him to the wall

Apparently Eva Braun was infertile, and Joann wanted his help to fix the situation

Bucky refused, as one does when they’re trying to avoid the wrath of their Mother (Winfred would kill him if she found out he’d been meddling with humans again after Troy) 

Which is how he found himself fighting a damned Hydra, pulled from the depths of Hel itself- with the sole purpose of wearing Bucky down so he would give in

--

He’d been fighting the Hydra for 31 days and nights before he started to feel the fatigue of the fight wear him down. He was the God of Love and Fertility, not the God of fighting. While Steve had taught him a considerable amount of manoeuvres, he simply didn’t have the stamina for it

He fell to his knees, avoiding a particularly vicious snap from the Hydra, when his vision started swimming and he felt himself going under.

The last thing he saw before he collapsed, was the bright light of an explosion. 

--

He wakes up to someone lightly slapping his face, and the wind against his skin

“Steve?” he garbles as he blinks to adjust himself to the light, and feels the figure next to him move back like they were burned

He pushes himself up on his elbows to see who it is if not Steve, and his eyes widen when he takes in the hesitant figure of -

“My lord,” he says, scrambling to get on his knees-

his husband. 

“Tony is fine,” he says, before moving slightly to grab gauzes, “For your wounds” he gestures for Bucky to lift his arm so he can wrap them

Bucky moves to make space for him, allowing him to wrap his right arm with the gauze, ‘I apologize my lor- Tony. I thought you were..” Bucky trails off; unsure if he should bring Steve up

“You thought I was your lover Steve,”Tony finishes, eyes trained on Bucky’s hand, “It’s alright I understand. But Steve is too busy facilitating the whims of his son Joann, and I wasn’t going to leave you to die”

“How did you -”

“Rhodey is a good friend of mine. He mentioned that a Hydra was missing from his collection, and Steve has been particularly upset that Joann has stopped his mission of carnage in his cure for his lover’s sterility”

Tony shrugs, squeezing Bucky’s hand lightly when he winces at the mention of Joann, “It wasn’t too hard to put it all together after that”

Tony moves to cup Bucky’s cheek, but freezes in the middle of the action, “I’m sorry it took me so long to find you”

--

It isn’t that Tony isn’t attractive, Bucky thinks as he watches his husband putter around this, vehicle that he’s made specially to transport Bucky away from Joann

Tony has always been the most attractive of them all, Bucky can securely admit to that.

Everyone has always held a torch for Tony, Steve and Bucky included

There have been many a time when Steve had seen Tony come out of his workshop, clothes half incinerated and hanging off him and it’s gotten him so worked up that he fucks Bucky almost angrily

It’s that Tony is small

After a particularly bad accident in the workshop, Tony’s growth was stunted and he’s considerably smaller than all of the other Gods, barely coming up-to Bucky’s shoulders

Bucky was young and rebellious and he resented being married to the deformed God

and Tony?

Tony had a reputation by then. Everybody held a torch for the guy, and everybody was indulged

Bucky looked into his honey-trap eyes on their wedding night, and decided that it was entirely too absurd for the God of Love to get his heart broken by the God of Metal, and it was unacceptable for him to be just another notch on Tony’s shoulder

So he pushed Tony off from where he was straddling Bucky’s hips and pressing insistent kisses against his neck and said under no uncertain terms that Bucky was Steve’s

and that was the end of it

--

They’re 2 days into their voyage back to Olympus when Bucky finally asks, “Why did you come for me?”

Tony looks up from where he was building some gizmo to help Bucky with his left arm while it was recovering from Hydra venom

“Would you rather I hadn’t come from you?” Bucky searches his eyes for a few seconds, but there’s only amusement and curiosity

“No I’m extremely grateful, I just don’t understand why”

“You are my husband,”Tony says simply before returning to the gizmo in his hand, like Bucky hadn’t pushed him away on their wedding night, like this wasn’t their first meaningful conversation in 1000 years of marriage, like Bucky hadn’t been screwing Steve on the side

“No thats not -” Bucky grabs Tony’s hands, making him look up sharply, “I appreciate it. Don’t get me wrong. But our marriage is a sham, it always has been. We’ve never even consummated it -”

“- we can change that now if you want -”

Bucky continues as if Tony hadn’t spoken, despite the heat that rushed through him from those words “- and yet you come and save me from one of Hel’s most feared creatures. Why?”

Tony tugs softly, and Bucky releases his hands sheepishly, “I told you, you are my husband. That doesn’t change because you are sleeping with Steve. I knew that before we got married. But you are my husband and I owe you a duty of care and protection, and so I will save you from all of Hel’s creatures if I must”

He takes in a breath, “But that really shouldn’t be necessary, because like I told you-Rhodey is a good friend of mine and his pets generally like me”

“I’ve been told on good authority that they find me too cute to hurt”

--

"Did he notice I was gone?” Bucky says apropos of nothing, and Tony stills from where he’s been feeding Bucky the grub of the day

Despite Tony’s best efforts, Bucky’s left arm isn’t salvageable, and short of having Clint himself here, there’s nothing to be done

(that isn’t to say that Tony didn’t try to contact Clint, aimlessly throwing bits at the sun like it would catch his attention, but they both knew it was in vain)

“He did,” Tony says hesitantly, “but he was just so caught up in his son that he probably lost track of mine”

“Did you know that it was his son that chained me up and fed me to the Hydra?”

“Yes, I did”

“And Steve,” Bucky pauses like he can’t process the words coming out of his mouth, “and Steve still feeds into his son’s fancies?”

“You understand what it’s like when one of our children do well,” Tony rushes to explain, and Bucky is at a loss for why his husband is supporting his lover, “he must’ve just gotten caught up”

“I’m sure that he meant nothing by it”

“Why are you defending him?” Bucky says angrily, pushing the bowl out of Tony’s hands when he shakes, “I have been cheating on you for 1000 years with him, why are you defending him?”

“You are my husband,” Tony says, cleaning up the mess without compliant, “and I owe you a duty of care and prot -”

“You keep saying that but it explains nothing!” Bucky cuts him off and he’s on his feet now, pacing like a caged animal

“Our marriage is a sham, it has always been a sham, so why do you suddenly care if I live or die?”

“You save me from the Hydra in the name of our marriage,” Bucky’s furious now; even if he isn’t sure why, “You, you defend Steve in the name of a marriage that doesn’t exist!!”

“These are the first days that we’ve spent together in 1000 years and I just, I don’t understand why you go on and on about a marriage that’s been broken since before it commenced!!”

Tony is, there’s no other word for it, he’s vibrating from where he’s bent down on his knees, and there’s a fire in his eyes that Bucky’s never seen before

“You would do well to remember husband,” he says it like it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, “that I was not the one to push you away on our wedding night. The only person who believes that this marriage is a sham is you”

“I will uphold the institution of the marriage as is my responsibility and duty as your husband, as I have for 1000 years. You may believe that this marriage isn’ worth a second of your time, as is your right- but do not presume to understand my feelings”

Bucky always forgets that Tony is the most influential God in Olympus, but its impossible to ignore when all that fierceness is directed at him

“Your choice in this marriage was always Steve; one that I have respected. It is only fair that you respect that my choice was you”

He stands up abruptly, and Bucky feels like he’s been punched in the gut, “we land in Hel in a day’s time- where we will stop and rest for 2 weeks. After those 2 weeks, it is up to you whether you wish to accompany me on the way back to Olympus”

and he walks away, leaving Bucky with the feeling that he’s lost something he never even knew he had

--

Fin

--

tagging: @im-ironman, @lovingtony3000, @imposter-human and @tinystankdefencesquad who gave me inspiration to complete and post this 

--

i do intend for there to be other parts to this, but i have no idea when they’ll go up

[villainousshakespeare]

A Forest Interlude Chapter 11, Recrimination

Summary: Eleonore (OFC) discovers a wounded man in the woods near her home and seeks to heal him. Little does she know that it is none other than the heir to the throne, Prince Hal of England.

Rated E

Warnings: smut, sex fluff, angst, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, hand jobs

In this chapter: Nell confronts Hal, can she forgive him? ANGST in this chapter!

Read the entire story on AO3

@nrthmnsplbnd09 ;  @nonsensicalobsessions @yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @from-hel-i-with-love  livviedoo @hopelessromanticspoonie @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @dangertoozmanykids101 @kellatron55 @myoxisbroken @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @vodka-and-some-sass @shiningloki @hiddlesholic

In all of her years on this planet, Nell had never felt such a burning rage. Even her anger when the hated Earl of Kent had recited that demeaning (and abominably written) poem about her to his cronies in a voice loud enough for her to easily over hear seemed but a slight irritation when compared to the fury that consumed her now. What made it all the worse was the near crippling embarrassment that went along with it.

How could he? She had made herself an open book to the man. Shared her greatest fears, her insecurities, her body with him! And the entire time as he had smiled and commiserated and presented himself as a paragon among men he had been lying to her face! It was not to be born!

Was he even now, she wondered, boasting of his conquest to the sniggering gentlemen who had come to collect him? She knew - everyone knew - of the Crown Prince's reputation. Even here, tucked away from the world at large, the gossip had traveled. Rumor had it that Prince Hal was a frequent guest of every brothel and bawdy house from East Cheap to Windsor. Had he run out of whores in the city then? Was that what had led him to wilds of Arden Woods and her door step?

Nell grimaced in pain as she twisted her hair up into a tight bun at the back of her head, making sure every last wisp was secured with her pins. She had already swapped her boy's hunting ensemble for a repressively dour grey dress. Of necessity she had selected one of the high necked garments normally reserved for cooler months. Her shame as she had caught sight of the bruises and love bites on her skin - so recently a cause for secret glee - threatened to make her weep, but she choked back the tears with the bile of her disgust.

Why? Why had she trusted him? Was it merely his pretty face? She had seen other comely men before, and never once been moved to licentiousness. True, none of them were as startlingly beautiful yet devilishly masculine as Hal - Prince Henry. Every thing about him, from the way he carried himself even while abed, to the commanding yet coaxing tone of his voice was designed to bring a woman to her knees. She had been just one more, she supposed sourly. One more victim of the easy charm she had heard so much about. Were she any other woman, she knew, she would despise her for caving so quickly to a practiced rogue. After all, he had made no secret, from the very start, that he meant to seduce her. Yet still she had walked right into his snare like a new born doe.

She had lingered in her room as long as she reasonably could, she realized at last. After fleeing the room like a coward, Nell had shouted orders to a perplexed Duncan to see to refreshments for the Duke of Gloucester and retreated to her room under the guise of changing her clothes. By now they should have all have had their laugh at the poor rustic baggage, no better than she should be and dressed like a boy to boot, that their Prince had made his latest conquest. With any luck they would have moved on to other matters, maybe even have departed by now.

Nell had just turned with a squaring of her shoulders to reenter the fray when a loud knock sounded on her door.

"I come anon, for god's sake let me be," she snapped. "If that our uninvited guests should want, then they must ask of Duncan for the nonce."

"But you yourself invited me, my dear," the hated, musical voice she so recently had been living for drifted through the heavy wood. "And what I would with you my sweetest Nell, no other soul could ever grant to me."

As her fingernails bit into the flesh of her palms Nell struggled to control her temper. Much as she might want to rail at him, to throw herself at him and claw his perfect face to bloody shreds, he was the heir apparent to all of England. Through a tightly clenched jaw she made her voice as polite as possible.

"You have had all of me a man could want," she told him through the door. "And now, I prithee Highness, let me be."

"Were I to live a hundred years or more," he said in a serious voice, "I never should nor could have all of you. For Nell, I promise you, I'll e're want more."

Unable to endure it any longer, Nell wrenched open the heavy door and had the pleasure of seeing Hal, who had been leaning upon it, stumble almost to his knees as he fell forward.

"There is no longer need for these sweet words," she spat at him. "You had your sport, seduced me to your bed. And what is more, you worked you whiles so well that in the end 'twas I who sought out you. A marvelous story, Sire, to tell your friends. So go you to them now and make your boasts."

"I swear to you, upon my mother's soul, these many years interred in her tomb, that never shall the truth of what we shared, of that most precious gift you gave to me, pass o'er my lips unto another's ear."

"Sweet words, my Prince, and easy for to say," she snapped.

"Sweet truth, sweet Nell, and ever more to keep," he insisted, making a try for her hand which she quickly moved behind her back to clasp its fellow.

"Your common exploits, Sire, I fear proceed you," she informed him with a sneer. "For even we so far away from court know that the Prince of Wales is quite the cad. They say no lady can resist his bed, although more often does he pleasures buy. Tell me, oh noble Prince, why came you here? Were all the whores of London sick with pox? Or could it be perhaps that you had heard the lonely Lady D'Amboise lingered here, abandoned by her husband when he fled? Is that what brought you underneath our roof? A hope to sample of that famous fruit? How disappointed then you must have been that she was not to be receiving guests. To come all of this way and then be forced to needs make do with me must be a blow."

"Now stop it Nell, you know not what you say!" he snarled, grabbing her by the shoulder with his good hand and shaking her hard.

For a moment they stared at each other from a mere breath away. Even through the miasma of her anger, the gulf of her despair, Nell could feel the pull from him. The way his eyes dilated as she swayed momentarily towards him was almost enough to make her believe he felt it too, that undeniable attraction flowing between them. After the silence had stretched, marred only by their heavy breathing, Hal at last shook his head a swiped his tongue over his lips.

"If it indeed had gone as you purpose," he said at last, voice quiet and firmly held in check, "then why would you have found me as you did? Think you I hungered so to breach these walls that I arranged my varied injuries? Would I have broke my arm, or hurt my head? You know that all I'd ever need to do was knock upon the door and state my name if I did seek an entrance to your home."

"Tis true, I grant, that being so a Prince," she glared at him, "you can have all you that you desire and more, and barely have to ask ere it be yours."

"Not all, my Nell, for there exists one thing, one simple thing I find I most desire, and yet I find it still eludeth me," he said softly.

"Your Grace must pardon if I do not mourn," she shrugged with more disinterest than she felt, "for this your loss is no concern of mine."

"Ah there, sweet Nell, I fear that you are wrong," he told her, still holding her eyes with his, "in that it is all up to you to grant."

"What more, Lord Prince, would you now have me give?" she demanded, almost at her breaking point. The way he was looking at her, so sincerely, was making her ache through her anger. It should be impossible, she thought bitterly, for anyone so founded in deceit to appear so earnest. "Was not my maidenhead enough for you?"

"Oh, it was more to me than words can say," he smiled almost sadly at her. "In all my life I never have received a gift more precious than you granted me. Yet there is something more for which I yearn. My darling love, can you not find your way, even as undeserving as I am, to grant me just one smile from your dear lips?"

As he spoke the words, Hal's thumb brushed across her mouth, causing a noise close to sob to escape from her. Why was he being like this? She wanted to hate him! To curse him! She did not want him to remind her of all that she would miss of him when he left, as he surely was about to do.

"I fear you ask perhaps the only thing that I find now impossible to give," Nell choked out, turning away from him and crossing to sink down onto the edge of her bed.

All of her anger was dangerously leaching out of her she realized, only to be replaced by despair. She did not want to still feel for this man. This Adonis who had deceived her into caring about him. That, in truth, hurt more than all the rest. She had gone into his bed with the most mercenary of goals - ridding herself of her loathed suitor. Yet somehow she had risen from it clear in the knowledge she had been hiding from herself. She had fallen, hopelessly fall, for this man. This Prince. He had, in the space of a very short time, become almost everything to her, and she was nothing, a mere footnote at best, to him. A pleasant interlude to alleviate his boredom while he healed.

"I grieve to see your face so clouded o'er," he said, dropping to one knee in front of her, "and know I am the cause of all your woes. I beg you, darling, here on bended knee, that you forgive me for my grievous crime."

"There is, your Highness, nothing to forgive," she said at last, voice dead and numb. "You never really told to me a lie. Why even the false name you did supply, Harry LeRoy, if I recall it right, is but a name that you shall come unto. Oh lord, you must have laughed that I, half French, did not see through so simple a disguise."

"I never laughed at you, nor never would," he promised her.

"Be as it may, I am the one at fault," she said. "I do confess I knew you told not all. Yet so obsessed was I with my own plight, and so distracted to have company, that I did not look further into it."

"You plight, my dear, was serious enough," he said, daring to rub her arm. "It is no shock it did consume you so."

"Well, you prevented that, so take my thanks," she laughed without humor. "Though now I do bethink me I should not divulge unto my hated would-be groom, just who it was who beat him to his prize. Did you not stop to think when I did ask that your deflowering me could start a war?"

"It did, I must confess, enter my mind."

"Ah, now I see, it was the reason then that you did first hold back from taking me."

More and more she needed him to leave. All of her memories were being corrupted by the knowledge of what and who he was. Would she have nothing, no fond remembrance to keep her warm as she sank into spinsterhood?

"It was one reason Nell, I will not lie," he nodded. "The politics are chancy at the best. If it should come to light what we have done it could risk war with France and with the North. They do but wait for any small excuse, and you provide a match to light their flame."

"Well, then I must believe you spoke the truth, and will not speak my shame to those your friends who linger down below awaiting you."

"Those men are not my friends, I like them not," he told her with a curl of his lip. "They follow at my brother's too kind heels and fight for scraps that he lets fall behind."

"I must say I am glad, for I liked not the look of any single one of them. His Grace, your brother, I of course except."

"Do not, my Nell, like him too over much," Hal all but growled. "I would not want to have to challenge him."

"You have no need, I have no honor Sire," she sighed, feeling sorry for herself.

"You have more honor in you dainty hand," he told her, raising it to his lips as she winced at the touch, "than most have in their person, Nell my love."

"No!" she insisted suddenly, tearing her hand away from him and jumping to her feet.

"What did I say to upset you so?" he asked, eyes wide.

"I'm not your love, you will not call me that!" she seethed at him. "And now, Lord Prince, I think the time has come for you and your train to all take your leave. Will you please make my farewell to the Duke? I fear I have a throbbing in my head and must take to my bed until it pass."

Hal stood, staring at her with unfathomable eyes. For a moment she thought that he would refuse, that he would stay and force her to continue this torturous conversation. Part of her, that weak, pathetic part that refused to relinquish the last thread of hope, wished that he would. Finally, however, he nodded and gave her a brisk, courtly bow.  

"You have not heard the last of me, my Lady," he told her in a voice that refused argument, "for I have vowed to see your wedding stopped, and come what may I shall fulfill that vow in such a way that does no harm to you. Your reputation I hold as my own, I will not hear one word against you Nell. And so adieu until I manage things. At such time I'll return and tell you how. Until then, please, I beg, do nothing rash."

Turning on his heel, Hal left the room, shutting her door behind him. As the sound echoed in her chamber, Nell hurled herself to her mattress and, for the third time in an alarmingly short window, wept as though her heart had broken. She feared indeed it had.