#i know no one else knows what under the vines is but i am besotted with that vineyard to the point where it lowkey inspired this poll

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Science and Magic!

Shield / Criminal Minds crossover.

Fem Reader x Spencer Reid (gradual)

Word count- 2k

My first time writing a fan-fic so bear with me I usually write non fiction. I am also working on others, a dbf Joel Miller one too.

Warnings- swear words/ horror/ gore themes, mentions of murder, death of unsubs victims, descriptions of death, magical powers, discrimination against reader for being inhuman. (My bad grammar lol)

Otherwise mainly fluff, Spencer and reader becoming besotted. (No smut in this series) let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Rating 16+

This will be a 3 part series :)

You awake to the sound of your alarm beeping, with a groan you lean over and silence it. ‘6:30am is way too early to be waking’ you think to yourself. 3 years 32 days and 13 hours and your still not used to the early starts. Kicking your covers off you stumble to the bathroom attached to your bedroom. You clean your teeth bleary eyed before braiding your hair back, whipping on some winged eyeliner and pulling on your Lycra uniform. Giving your self a final once over you leave your bathroom.

Searching your room for your combat boots there was a sudden knock at the door,

“(y/n) come on! Group meeting in 5” Mac’s voice rang through the door.

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming! Just finding my boots!” You huffed back.

Mac let’s out a small laugh before replying with “ Well maybe if you kept your room neater you’d find them quicker!”

“I’m never here long enough to tidy!” You sassed back. Which is true as of recently it’s been one mission after another, with little rest.

Finding your boots under your denim jacket you quickly fumble to get them on.

You open your door to an amused Mac, sending him a quick glare before following him down the hall. Walking into the conference room you have all eyes fall on you knowingly.

“Am I missing something?” You question.

“We are sending a few agents to work alongside the FBI in the BAU” Coulson replies.

“Ok why?” I question again.

“The case they are currently working on involves a very dangerous inhuman, he has been burning his victims from the inside out, and they are trying to work out how he’s doing it.” Coulson explains.

“They haven’t pieced together that he’s an inhuman yet.” Daisy adds with a worried look in her eyes.

“ But it won’t take long to figure it out” Coulson sighs.

“ And we don’t want to give the FBI and the government anymore ammunition to hate us” Daisy follows.

“So we are sending one of our own to help them arrest him before things get any worse” Coulson responds.

“So I’m guessing as everyones looking at me like my face is blue, I’m the inhuman your sending?” You sigh.

“Correct” he grins, handing you the debrief folder.

Reading quickly through the files you are already noticing some trends in the victims, all women, all dark haired with brown eyes, similar ages. But surely a department who specialise in profiling can work this out without the help of an inhuman, you think to yourself.

“So why me?”

The looks again, “my powers” you huff, knowing what this means.

“You want me to show them that not all inhumans are a threat, and my powers can mirror and control his.”

“Exactly” Coulson replies with that fatherly smile he reserves for only Daisy and yourself. He’s been the constant parental figure you’ve needed in your life since you transformed, being there through all the ups and downs, especially the long road to learning to control your powers.

Your an elemental, having control of every element. Which to you has felt like you had five times the work anyone else encountered to learn control. You started with water (nice and easy right?) wrong! Moving the water was easy, until you accidentally froze it creating a thick layer of frozen slush on the training room floor. You found Earth the most effortless, you could bond yourself to it, feel it in your veins. Whether it was healing dying plants or causing intense Earth quakes, to using vines to wrap around and stop any enemies.

Fire took you the longest to master, for the longest time you refused to use it. It was a time bomb whenever you did! The more frustrated you got with it, the larger and angrier the flames grew. These days you had full control over water, Earth, air and decent control over fire, still only opting to use it when in dire need.

“Ok when do I leave?”

“Within the hour, pack a bag and meet Mac, Fitz and myself in the hanger” Coulson stated before leaving the room.

You trudged back to your bedroom, shoving anything you may need for up to two weeks into your duffel. This was going to be interesting……

Arriving in the hanger fitz greeted you, “(Y/N)! I’ve calibrated your arm cuffs to be able to absorb his fire abilities, you can then harness the thermal energy his powers radiate and use it to amplify your own” he explained, showing you the controls.

“Got it, thanks fitz” You smiled.

Approaching Mac You ask if anyone was coming with you, he expressed that himself and Coulson would come to the precinct, to do formal introductions. Then you and Mac were on your own. You were assured the other’s were only a coms link away though, if trouble arose.

The flight on the quinjet was quiet, mentally preparing yourself for what you were going to say, and hoping they weren’t going to be too wary or freaked out at your ‘abilities’.

“Your pulling that grimace you do when your worried” Mac laughed.

“What’s bothering you (y/n/n)”

“I guess it’s just walking into the FBI, and going hey I’m the inhuman with the scary powers, here to help” You deadpanned.

This caused him to laugh out loud, “ You’ll be fine kid, we’ve been told they’re a friendly team”.

“Let’s hope” You sigh.

“You’ll do great (y/n) I have every faith in your abilities as an agent and in your powers” Coulson voiced, trying to offer some positive reassurance.

“Thanks” You hummed still unsure.

As you landed in Quantico Washington DC, You gave yourself a pep talk before exiting the jet. Climbing into the SUV you pulled out the debriefing folder, going back over the case files, making sure you were more than ready for when you all arrived at the precinct.

Pulling up outside, and taking several deep breaths to calm yourself. Mac gave your shoulder a brotherly tap “It’s gonna be fine kid breathe”. You just hummed in response, wanting to get the introductions over with. Being inhuman you were always wary of the people you encounter, some were considerate or indifferent, while other’s could treat you like they are forming their own Salam witch trial!

Walking into the building you noticed how out of date everything looked compared to shield headquarters, we are clearly spoilt with all the tech Coulson receives from Stark! You thought to yourself. Although Coulson is convinced Tony Stark only does this to bribe him, so when the Avengers ask to borrow yourself and Daisy when it’s needed, Coulson can’t say no.

Coming to a big glass door reading Behavioural Analysis Unit, with one last breath you enter behind Coulson.

Walking in you were greeted by a tall man with dark hair,

“Shield I presume?” The dark haired agent questioned.

“That’s us” Coulson declared.

He nodded.

“Welcome to the BAU, I’m agent Hotch I’ll bring you through to meet the rest of the team, then we can do introductions”

We followed him through to what they call the ballpen, “Gather in everyone, these are the agents from Shield” agent Hotch called out.

Hotch introduced everyone one at a time,

“This is SSA Prentniss, SSA Morgan, Agent Jareau, our technical analysis Penelope Garcia, SSA Rossi and Dr Spencer Reid.”

“It’s great to meet you all, I’m director Coulson, this is Agent MacKenzie, and Agent (Y/L/N), we are here to assist you with the capture of the man causing these killings. We happen to already have some information on this criminal, he is an inhuman called Gary Child’s” Coulson informed their team.

“Garcia pull up anything you can find on him!” Hotch commands.

“Already on it!” She replies, quickly tapping away at her computer.

“While she’s digging up any dirt, why don’t you explain to us his inhuman ability’s and anything else you know”. Agent Morgan enquired. From that moment on you could sense an uneasy shift in the conversation, clearly their team was on edge about the suspect being inhuman or how dangerous his powers were.

You suddenly chime in with,

“From what we understand the suspect can cause liquids to boil, just by touching it. He is boiling the victims insides causing them to burn from the inside out.” All eyes are then on you, causing you to shift uncomfortably on your feet, as you avert your eyes to the floor.

“How are we meant to stop an unsub like this?” Dr Reid spoke up, the look of concern evident in his eyes.

“That’s where Agent (Y/L/N) comes in, she is inhuman, a very powerful one.” Mac speaks up.

Well the cat is out of the bag now you think, okay okay just act confident, show them you know what your doing.

“That I was not expecting” Agent Pretniss claims, shocked expression on her face, looking around they all have the same shocked look.

“I’m an elemental, I can control all the elements. So I should be able to get close to him without him hurting me, as I have the abilities of pyrokenisis and hydrokenesis, I can freeze or boil water. So I am hazarding a guess I can use my powers in a similar manner. My co worker, Agent Fitz is a fantastic scientist and he’s created these arm gauntlets, they can absorb the suspects thermal energy, hopefully draining him of energy long enough for me to be able to stop and contain him.” You explain. “I may also be able to use my hydrokenesis to slow him down” you add.

“But how do we know we can trust you?” Agent Jareau demands, “If she is also an inhuman, especially with similar abilities, how do we not know she isn’t helping him!” She continues.

“Woah Agent Y/L/N has been a trusted member of Shield for over 3 years! We trust her with our life’s, in fact she saves them weekly!” Exclaims Mac.

“It’s true she’s a valued member of our team and has even worked with the Avengers, in fact I’m still trying to stop Stark from stealing her” Coulson adds.

“Look we are only here to help! I’m a trusted Agent of shield and a part time Avenger, I helped with the battle in New York against Loki, I’ve even helped prevent the end of the world a few times!” You burst out trying to keep hold of your anger, who were these people! You were only trying to help. “Aaaand” you stammer out, emotions beginning to get the better of you, “Discriminating against me because I have abilities you don’t understand, is not going to help us get any closer to catching this man!” You finish, looking at your friends for support.

“I agree” came the shy voice of Spencer, “We trust Shield, and she’s a part of them, she hasn’t given any reason for us to not trust her, plus the statistical probability of us being able to detain a man with those abilities, without someone like her…… is close to none” he continues. His reply seemed to come out at a fast paced ramble, his shy demeanour adding to its charm. He’s incredibly endearing you think, and pretty easy on the eyes too. Big hazel brown eyes, and floppy golden brown hair. He had such an innocence about him, he reminded you of an adorable puppy dog.

“Ok” said Hotch, “Let’s start making a plan of action” he continues. Seemingly shutting down the other agent's quibbles and worries, and asserting his authority as there are life’s at stake and jobs to be done.

“Thank you” you whisper to Spencer, as you follow the others into a conference room. “Uhh no problem” he replies bashfully, small smile forming on his lips. You both look down at the floor shyly, as your stomachs flutter and hearts race.

Maybe this joining of teams wouldn’t be so bad after all, you decide.

[the-ineffable-demon-crowley]

A Bargain Struck

Mesopotamia!AU. Trapped in an arranged marriage, you beseech the demon Crowley to find a way to release you from it. He offers you a simple bargain, one that is far too tempting to resist. 

↝Pairing: Anthony J. Crowley (ft. luscious long curls) x f reader

↝Length: 6.6k

↝Warnings: Oral (f receiving), virgin!reader, sex, dirty talk, praise kink, sacrilege lol - this is not meant to be set in any particular historical place or peoples 

Cross-posted to AO3 here

There was once a man with yellow eyes and curling red hair. He had a sharp smile, and a smooth voice. He was tall, lithe, and lean, and mostly kept to himself. He had a small home just beyond the border of the town, where it seemed only the darkest of clouds would hover above. Rumours flooded the town: sometimes people would talk to him, and then they would disappear. Others would look him in the eye, then days later fall dead quite suddenly. Otherwise devoted husbands and wives would catch a glimpse of him, fall besotted, and renounce their vows.

Livestock would die. Crops turned turned to ash. Water turned to dust. Any unlucky turn of the wind, no matter how explicable, they blamed on him. They said he was a demon, a man borne of hellfire with brimstone in his soul, and the village would see no blessing from the lord until they cast off his wicked presence. Trouble was, there was no evidence of any of it. Apart from always wearing his hood up and hardly being seen in public, thus becoming the inspiration for many a children’s tale, the man was never caught doing any sort of witchcraft. People had long been burned for less, but everybody was afraid of him.

Truth is, so were you. But God had ignored your prayers for too long now, and you had to take things into your own hands. If He could not help you, then you would seek out someone who could. Even if you ended up in a great stew for the demon to gobble up, it would be a better fate than the one awaiting you now. There was someone else you feared more than any demon, and it was for this reason that you chose to follow the stories.  He was said to be called Crowley, and it was in his alleged claws you put your hopes.

So once the day darkened to dusk and the village prepared for bedtime, you slipped out, quiet as a mouse, and made the journey to his home. Having never been there yourself, your path consisted solely of the details you’d heard in stories. You travelled through the trees, thickets, and even crossed a small stream you remembered one person mentioning, once they’d stopped screaming about having seen a demon in the woods. You could only imagine it was Crowley, and though fear gripped your heart, your feet kept moving until - finally - you spotted it. 

Amongst the trees, a squatting little hut built of stone and wood came into view, with sagging front steps, and windows that looked blackened as though from a fire. You didn’t know if he could already hear your racing heartbeat as you tentatively walked towards the door, or if you were going to be a surprise snack that showed up to your door, but either or... it was worth it. 

You raised your hand and gingerly knocked. Is that what one does when visiting a demon’s house? Do demons have a sense of social etiquette? You took a step back and regarded the threshold, all rotten wood and gnarled vines. The cottage looked one wistful sigh away from tumbling. You waited another moment, then another. Nothing.

“Hello?” You called, tilting your head to try and see inside the windows. “D-demon?” The windows reflected nothing but your face, the blackness of the inside making the image as clear as a mirror.

You felt mad. If the man were just a regular old bloke, you’d be the one awaiting the match. Still, if you were right, it was too late to turn around now. Perhaps he was a more formal demon, you thought. You straightened your back and lifted your chin, and spoke as commandingly as you could, as though you were speaking to the house itself. 

“I am here to beseech the demon Crowley.”

A pause. Then a soft creak. The door then swung open quite suddenly, revealing a hooded figure as it banged against the limits of the hinges. The person stepped forward. A few long curls of red hair betrayed the personage underneath. You stepped back with a quiet gasp.

“Go on then. Beseech me.” The tone was almost playful in nature, but there was an undercurrent of power in his words. You thought it best to not anger him.

You swiped your foot back and began to lower yourself onto your knees. Before your legs could touch the ground, his voice halted you.

“No, love. A woman as beautiful as you should never be on her knees. Not like this.”

You straightened your posture, confused and flushed from his words. His demonic charm seemed to already be taking its hold on you, despite having only shared a handful of words and no knowledge of what lay under the cloak.

“I... am here to beseech the lord Crowley to release me from the bonds of my fate.”

The hooded figure was so still, you thought he’d magicked himself into a statue. Then you heard the smile in his words.

“And what fate would that be?”

You let out a soft breath, eyes falling to his feet. “An arranged marriage.”

“Brilliant! Do come in.” The man drifted to the side to let you pass. You tried to peer inside before entering, careful not to allow your foot to cross the threshold for him to pull you in before you’d properly decided. But you could see nothing. Just darkness.

A hand appeared from underneath the cloak, skin smooth and soft, and offered itself to you. Seemingly harmless. You took it tentatively, stepped over the threshold and let the darkness consume you.

The dimness was warm, but not stifling. Then, a few feet away from you, a spark. And another. Then a flame burst to life within a stone pit, and the room was bathed in light. You twisted and turned to try and get an idea of your surroundings, but it looked nothing like what you’d supposed. It was... grand.

The home was lavish; handsomely carved furniture bedecked in thick furs, low tables covered in spreads of foods you’d never even seen before on shining plates. Books and and small statues and curious instruments dotted a few stone shelves jutting out from the walls, with plants and herbs claiming every spare surface you could spot. 

You blinked and he was there, standing over the fire, heating something in a pot. The stew, you thought shrewdly, you were the last ingredient.

“Now then,” he murmured, placing the pot onto a stone ledge nearby. He tipped it slowly and allowed the hot liquid to pour into two matching goblets. The smell was warm and spicy, the smoke of the fire bathing the room in a haze. He stood, goblets in hand, at which point his hood slowly fell back.

The man in front of you was devilish and beautiful. The rest of his curls tumbled forward, a fiery red shade with undercurrents of gold. The yellowness of his eyes was even more striking in the firelight, but they didn’t frighten you like the stories said they would. He was tall and lithe; you could tell from the way the cloaked draped over him.

“Here. A wine of my own creation.” He handed you one of the goblets, warm to the touch, and you cradled it between your fingers as the heat traveled up your arms. Though you hadn’t intended on eating or drinking anything the demon gave you, the smell was so divine it was nearly impossible to resist. You tipped the cup towards your mouth slowly, the sweetness of the berries and the richness of the cloves and ginger flooding your senses instantly. You lowered the cup from your mouth, careful to not overdo it, and found him looking at you intently. Placing the cup on a table nearby, you sighed, ready to make your plea.  

“Please, I need your help to release me from this betrothal.”

“You do not want this union?”

“No.”

“And why is that, love?”

You sat down on the furs with a huff. All of the arguments with your family went swirling through your head. It was hard to pick just one reason.

“I’ve been putting it off for years. Now they want me to marry a man who’s... cruel. I’ve seen it, he’s an evil man. I cannot belong to a man like that. I simply want to live freely without the bonds of marriage, to love freely... I’ve prayed to God asking why I must do this, and he has ignored me. They tell me it is his will, but what of my will?” Your eyes widened and you placed your hand against your mouth. “I- that was sacrilege.”

“And beautifully said, might I add. But what do you suppose I can do?”

“Well, you are a demon, aren’t you? Can’t you... kill him?”

He laughed then, a warm sound showing off two rows of beautiful teeth. You thought you’d seen two shaped like fangs, but when you blinked, his smile had already faded.

“I s’ppose I could, yes, but I made a promise to a... colleague of mine- er, not the point. What’s to stop them from finding another bloke if this one dies? And I certainly can’t kill off every eligible man in your village. You lot would have my head.”

“Then I’m trapped?” Despair filled your voice at the thought. The demon shook his head.

“No, love. We will simply have to think of a more eternal solution.”

You blinked. “And that would be?”

“Give yourself to me.”

You stuttered, the words dying in your throat. A red flush climbed up your throat to your cheeks like the tongue of a flame. “Wh-what?”

“Give yourself over to a higher temptation, and no man, no covenant will be able to pull you from it.” His voice adopted a low, velvety timbre, and your thoughts swam as the warmth and haziness of the room settled upon you like a thick blanket. However,  you still felt clear-headed, so it hadn’t the wine affecting you so; it was the weight of his words that rushed over you like a tidal wave. “With your soul in my possession, you could not offer it to be bound in the sanctity of matrimony. Along with your mind, your body... Of course, your reputation might suffer. Not to mention your status regarding more... eternal fates.” 

“My soul in the hands of a demon! I’d be ruined for eternity... but I’d be free.” You whispered, fingers aimlessly playing with the tassel of a cushion. You fixed him with a hard look, your human gaze unable to penetrate the attractive mask that his face presented. His words were tempting, his face desirable, but he was a demon after all, and you’d be an idiot to take his offer at face value.

“What’s in it for you?”

Crowley smiled then, his snakelike eyes glinting in the firelight; he looked as though he’d eat you whole right there and then. You shifted a bit on the bundle of furs, uncomfortable with so blatantly desirable a stare. You’d certainly never been on the receiving end of one before. He still did not reach out to touch you, but with one word, his wants were clear. 

“You.”

“So you wish to possess me- how is that any different than a marriage?”

“Anybody ever tell you that you ask too many questions, angel? You’ll simply have to see for yourself.” He grunted quietly, raising a hand with long and delicate fingers. He touched your wrist gingerly, turned it over, and traced his fingertips along the exposed skin. You felt goosebumps pebble your skin. and you let out a shaky breath.  His touch was light, delicate, but you felt his power thrumming inside of you. It almost felt as though the blood inside your veins was drawn towards him and his heat. 

If you gave yourself to him, he would possess you, own you, mind, body, and soul. He’d turn out all hope for glory in the eternal kingdom, ravish your lust and tarnish your soul irreversibly. It was not that you simply assumed these things; you saw them. Images flashed in front of your eyes of heat, darkness, pleasure, depravity, want, satiation, and... protection. Freedom. A bond that would keep you and yet set you free. An unstoppable force. 

The images slowly faded from your eyes, but his fingers did not release your wrist. His touch was feather-light as the firelight threw shadows over your skin. Your heart was racing, and it felt as though your skin was lit aflame from the moment he touched you. You felt the edges of your soul singe from the hellfire he imposed upon you. 

“Make your choice.”

You felt like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. Heart hammering, you closed your eyes and breathed in through your nose and out of your mouth to steady yourself. Your soul was rejecting this devilish influence, but your heart, your mind, wanted nothing more than to give in. Even your body had less than pure intentions, as you felt yourself grow hot between your thighs. Nothing else could make you feel like this again. Not for all of eternity, and it wasn’t worth letting slip away. 

“Yes.” You said, and the haze slowly began to clear. You found strength in that one word. 

“Yes, what? I need to hear you say it, love.”

“Yes, I give myself, body, mind, and soul, to the demon Crowley. I surrender myself to you.” 

The smile on his face was wicked, and his eyes fell to the smooth skin of your upturned wrist as his fingers made quick work of it. He traced a pattern along the visible veins, just for a few seconds, and you felt your blood answer the call, singing at his touch. Moments later, something began to appear. Rising from within your flesh came a mark on your skin; pink at first, then red, then you watched with bewilderment as the colour darkened to the deepest black. It was then that you recognized the shape - a coiling black snake. He released your wrist gently and you clutched it, cradling it in your other hand and staring as though it was someone else’s. You rubbed your thumb over the mark, but no ink stained it. No pain throbbed through your arm. No burning. It was just... there. As if it had always been.

You looked up at Crowley, understandably shocked, and his eyes gazed upon you, pleased. His features were so beautiful, yet chiseled with the intent to tempt unsuspecting prey. Like you. Even his hair acted as a temptation, soft curls tumbling forward from his hood. You fought the urge to reach out and touch them, run your fingers through them - maybe pull them, and instead watched as he raised a hand, finger tapping against his temple. The same black insignia marking his skin. 

“It’s... beautiful.” You surprised yourself, but honestly, it was. The detailing on the snake was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, and as you rolled your wrist between your fingers, you could’ve sworn the scales gleamed like a real snake. Suddenly, the tail twitched, and a slippery tongue lashed out, and you gaped at your own hand. 

“How-”

“Little bit of an illusion.” 

“Will other people see this? Will they know what I have done?” 

“No. The mark can disappear if you wish. But they will know, regardless if they see the mark or not.” 

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“It’s a mark of protection, angel. Those who would otherwise have ill intentions will be forewarned.”

“So they can’t force me to marry?”

“Not unless they’re ready to take on hell itself.” 

A feeling of relief suddenly flooded through you. You were beginning to understand what this bond meant; you’d given yourself to him, and yet you were still free to pursue your own will. If you had to be bonded with someone, you’d always choose the one where you’d given yourself willingly. 

You looked down at the mark emblazoned upon your wrist, a smudge of ink staining your skin. Like he used the ashes of hell itself to imprint his mark on you. You’d never felt safer in your life. Your eyes flickered up to Crowley’s, drunk with the feeling. 

“If my choices will now be wholly mine, I choose to take everything in my hands-” You straightened your back, fingers beginning to unlace the front corseted portion of your dress. It began to fall slack as you shifted your shoulders, revealing a white shift dress beneath it. “-including you.”  

Crowley’s eyes flickered darkly. He had never seen a human give themselves so willingly to the hands of hell, but you were something different. You were temptation incarnate, and it was time that you tapped into those strengths. With his help, of course.

“Not wasting any time, are you?”

The outer layer of your dress was now pooled around your waist, and Crowley wanted nothing more than to rip it off to avenge your hips for being so tragically hidden from him. He watched your trembling hands reach forward for him, as each deft finger unknotted the bindings that held his cloak together. You pushed it off his shoulders slowly, revealing a lean, lithe figure clad in only a tunic. 

“This will mark your downfall, angel.” He murmured, taking one of your hands by the wrist to stop your movements. The trembling stilled instantly at his touch. “There is still time to change your mind.”

“I said yes, Crowley. I want you. My choice.” 

“Then let it be damnation upon you.” 

His lips pressed against the mark on your wrist, then slowly moved up to your forearm, up to your shoulder. At this point, he had pulled you so close that you were nearly flush with his chest. His fingers were apt and skilled as they pulled off the wadded remnants of the dress, tossing it aside as though it offended him. You were left in a white undergarment, shivering, nipples pebbled from the cool air, though you felt like you were burning up inside. 

Crowley’s large hands cupped your breasts, and you let out a soft moan at the feeling. His thumb ran over one of your nipples. “So sensitive already, angel. I’m going to take my time with you.” 

You felt yourself grow wetter between your thighs, and an accompanying heat you had never felt before flared in your stomach. You felt an arm snake around your waist, and you were pulled to your feet. The outer layer of your dress fell from your hips, which pleased Crowley as he placed a searing kiss against your lips. Every touch made you feel feverish, which did not bode well for you once he’d had his way with you. The thought made you drunk with desire. 

He took you into the bedroom, a handsomely carved bed standing right in the centre. A few books and candles dotted the shelves, all of which came alight with a swing of his arm. You swore you would never get used to that. 

“Lie down for me.” Chills seemed to overtake your body at the sound of his low voice rattling deep inside your ribcage. Not wanting to remove yourself from the heat of his body, and yet wishing to comply, you stepped away from him and sat up onto the edge of the bed. You sank in the softness of the sheets, falling back with a soft sigh. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked with that same tone of playfulness. You smirked to yourself, allowing your eyes to close for a moment. 

“Isn’t that the point?”

The sudden feeling of his mouth on your inner thigh made you gasp. You moved to buck your hips at the sudden sensation, at which point he pressed his hand down against your lower stomach, holding you down. He kissed either thigh softly. “I realize this can be overwhelming for you humans, so if you tell me to stop, we stop. Yes?” You felt his teeth scrape against your sensitive skin, and your hips fought against his hand, seeking the heat of his mouth once more.

“Yes, Crowley.” You swore, eyes closing again. 

“There’s a love.” 

You didn’t know when he had bunched your underdress around your hips, but you had been far too distracted to even realize it was still adorning your body. Your thoughts were cloudy beyond the most instinctual drives: Crowley, touch, heat, pleasure. Luckily, he was eager to oblige. 

“Please, please, Crowley..” You whimpered, feeling his hot mouth draw closer and closer to your centre. You had no previous knowledge of carnal relations, but you’d heard so many stories of how stiff, pleasureless and lifeless it could be. So far, this was by far exceeding your expectations.

His large hands gripped your thighs and spread them further apart. You flushed, the heat from your traveling all the way up to your cheeks to colour them pink. He held them firmly, leaving all hope of preserving your dignity in the dust.

“Hm. Gave yourself over so easily, didn’t you, little one?” His voice was hot and smooth as velvet, just like the way his tongue licked a trail over your pussy. You couldn’t help the small yelp that escaped you, and you clapped your hand over your mouth. How embarrassing. Crowley chuckled wickedly, his tongue prodding against your folds, and lips coming to encircle your clit. Pleasure and heat spiked up within your blood, hips squirming from the overload of sensations. He held you fast, dipping his tongue in and out of you with practiced efficiency. You were beginning to quiver beneath him, fingers slipping into his flaming red hair. 

“Crowley, I-I-” A coil tightened inside of you, and tried as you might, you pushed your hips against him to chase the feeling. His grip prevented most movement, but he was determined to let you feel the extent of his prowess. His tongue encircled your clit, and it was then that you felt one of his long fingers slipping inside of you. You were soaked, you could feel it; he slipped another finger in without much issue, and he set a brutal pace almost instantly. 

Your back arched, fingers tugging on his hair. “Crowley!”

Your panting was the only sound in the room you could hear for a few seconds. You blinked in the darkness of the room, the candles flickering and throwing shadows over the walls. Crowley stood from his place at the foot of the bed, wiping his mouth with leisure. His smile was wicked. “Came so prettily, angel.”

You quickly sat up on the bed and tugged him closer by the tunic he was wearing, pressing your lips to his in a searing kiss. He matched the force and heat, overpowering you easily as your tongues battled. You could still nearly taste yourself on his tongue, and the depravity of such a thing nearly had you fainting. But his arms wrapped around you, strong and corded with lean muscle, and you remembered that you were safe here. He broke the kiss, his fingers slowly returning to worship your breast, fingers rolling against your pebbled nipple. 

“Do you still want this?” He lowered his mouth and enveloped the tip of your breast in it, and you shuddered at the feeling of his hot, wet mouth.

“Yes.”

He hummed. “You’re a virgin, little one.”

You couldn’t help but smirk a bit. “You know that, don’t you?”

“We-ell, I just can’t help but find it so... irresistible. Your tight little pink pussy, taking all of me in, right to the hilt.” You bit your lip at his dark words. “A virgin defiled mercilessly by a demon. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, love?”

“Yes!” You sighed, hips wiggling, eager to feel his weight on top of you again. He slowly began to crawl up over you, his arms caging you in as he hovered above you. 

“Yes, what? You know my policy. I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you to ruin me, Crowley. Defile me, ravish me until I’m screaming your name, praising you like a god.” 

Desperation began to flow through you, but you were too far gone to care at this point. Crowley seemed ready to give you what you wanted, and you couldn’t have been more eager. He kissed you again, his arms slowly slipping up the sides of your body until he reached your forearms. Gripping both arms, he raised them above your head and held them there. 

“Don’t move, little one. Or you won’t get anything.”

You swallowed, clutching the carvings of the headboard. One of his hands fell from holding your wrists to push your thigh down, and the other guided himself inside you. With one smooth thrust, you were full of him, hard and heavy and thick. Tears pricked your eyes as the sting pinched your most sensitive areas. He didn’t dare move, and his large hand came up to clutch your cheek, his thumb brushing away the crystal tears that hung from your lashes. 

His body covered yours, and he pressed his forehead against yours, absorbing your whimper with his kiss. “D’you feel alright?” 

You took a breath, the sting beginning to dissipate. Instead, tiny sparks of pleasure began to replace them, and your even softly bucked your hips to show your desperation hadn’t lessened in the least. 

“Take me.” 

“So ready to surrender your innocence to the likes of me.” He smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips. His mouth trailed down towards your jawline, towards your throat. You felt his teeth enclose around your skin, and you sighed at the feeling, fingers tightening around the carving headboard. It was then, when your guard had fallen, that he moved. Hips rolling against yours in a positively snakelike manner, you gasped quietly at the newfound pleasure that began to build inside of you. 

Your fingernails dug into the wood as he began to set a faster pace, his cock hitting you in the same delicious places as his fingers had. Crowley’s mouth found your breasts, and he enveloped his hot mouth around a nipple as your body shook from his thrusts. His long hair tickled your skin as he moved. 

“Crowley,” You groaned. “Can I touch you?” 

“Oh, yes. I think I’d much prefer your nails digging into my back anyway.” 

You smirked at his smugness, and your hands fell from the headboard to trail over his shoulder blades, angular bones underneath soft skin. He punctuated his next thrust as if to prove a point, and your fingernails dug into his skin. You heard him groan in pleasure, and his pace quickened still. You tried to roll your hips up to meet him, but it was impossible to keep up. He slowed down slightly to achieve the friction of his pubic bone rubbing against your clit, and you moaned at the feeling of it, still sensitive from his previous ministrations. 

“You’re so pretty like this. You belong with us sinners.” 

Your hands slipped up his back into his hair, the fiery curls feeling warm and soft between your fingers. You tugged experimentally as he pounded inside of you, and you heard him moan at the feeling. You grinned to yourself, finally having found a pleasure point in the grand demon. 

But judging just by the way he looked at you, you were his pleasure now. 

His thrusts were growing hard and uncontrolled, and you felt anticipation building inside of you, threatening to spill over at any moment. But something was missing. Crowley knew exactly what it was, and when his thumb pressed over your swollen clit, you keened into him, back arching to meet his chest. 

“Much better, innit?” He teased you, thumb rubbing slow circles as his hips rolled against yours. You were becoming a mess of sweat and moans between the sheets, hair mussed and cheeks flushed. Of course, you had been warned about your wedding night since the day you were betrothed, and you’d heard stories from the other married women, but nothing could have prepared you for this. Submission and procreation were the only things a woman was capable of, but not you. Not with him.

“Are you going to cum for me, angel?” He lowered his mouth to the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin, and the growling, gravelly timbre of his voice sparking heat in your core. 

“Mm-hmm,” You whimpered, unable to form words at this point. He was pleased at what he’d done to you, a trembling, writhing, blushing mess in his bed. The picture of innocence corrupted. And you were his. “Please-”

“Say you’re mine.” His grip on your hips tightened, and you groaned. His thumb on your clit didn’t stop, and the overstimulation was beginning to sting, but you could feel his hips beginning to stutter against yours. He was close too.

“I-I’m yours. Mind, soul...” You gasped as his thrusts deepened, one of his hands pushing your thighs down. “- and body.”

“Cum.” In desperation, you thrusted your hips up as best you could under his grip, desperate to satisfy the ache that plagued you. Once the word hit your ear, the cord inside of you snapped, pleasure and warmth spreading through your nerves like a fire. Hellfire. Heat sizzled through your blood, burning up any last hope of salvation as you gave yourself over to the demon. You felt the mark on your arm singing - there was no other word for it. A triumphant pleasure that came from within your heart at the feeling of being so whole in his arms. The pact was fulfilled; you had done the unthinkable, the irreversible. And damn if it didn’t feel good.

Crowley pushed his hips against yours once, two, three more times, his thick cock thrusting up inside of you, propelling your release further. Then his rhythm stuttered, and you felt him fill you up with his hot seed. He pressed his hips against yours, allowing you to milk him for every drop, then he collapsed onto the bed beside you. 

Panting heavily, you stared up at the ceiling, and you smiled. 

You felt him shift in the bed, and suddenly felt a cloth wiping at your inner thighs, slightly dampened. You found that you weren’t even surprised at this little trick, and began to close your eyes. His arms encircled you in a band of warmth, and you pressed your cheek against his chest, feeling the gentle patter of his heartbeat underneath. You were a little surprised to find that he even had a heart, being a supernatural being, but of course, he was still flesh and blood. That much was clear. Your breathing was beginning to even out, and your eyes wanted so desperately to close now that you felt safe for the first time in months. But there was something in the back of your mind, a sobering thought that threatened your peace.

“Crowley?”

“Mm.” He grumbled, clearly having nearly fallen asleep. Your fingers traced over his skin, leaning your head back to look up at him, jaw and throat exposed to you.

“Did you mean it? When you said you’d protect me?” Your words were quiet, breath barely escaping to tickle across his skin. You saw his eyes pop open, dark jewels glinting in the night.

“Of course, angel. It’s an unbreakable bond, not to be taken bloody lightly.” You felt his chest shift as he chuckled. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” 

The next morning, Crowley was still slumbering away. You had been awake only for about ten minutes, and spent the entire time staring up at him, admiring his features. His skin was pale and smooth, his jaw and nose angular like they’d been carved from stone, with his flowing hair spread out among the pillows. He looked every bit the demon he was, and yet with his eyes closed, his snakelike gaze no longer visible, he was just a man. A man who’d saved you by damning you. 

You slipped out from his arms and picked up your underdress, then followed the trail of clothing out into the sitting area until you were fully dressed. In the daylight, you were able to see the details of his home a bit better, and the opulence of its treasures were not lost on you. All sorts of trinkets that shined like jewels and books in languages you’d never seen stared back at you, and you, yet another thing he’d collected along the way. You wanted to stay here and take your place among the pleasures that Crowley had amassed forever, and that was exactly what you had to leave. Just for a bit.

The daylight was even more intrusive when you’d stepped outside, the white sunlight shining even stronger on you as though it tried to wash you clean of the nights from the night before. But there was no saving you now. You looked down at the mark on your wrist, and tugging your sleeve over it, headed back towards your village.

As expected, whispers arose the moment you stepped foot in the boundary of your village, the rows of little huts coming alive with whispers of people staring through their windows, even some stopping work in the fields some distance away as they caught sight of you. Crowley said the mark wouldn’t be visible, but it was as though what you’d done was written all over you. You held your head high and continued walking towards your home, ready to face the consequences. The only thing keeping you strong was knowing that you could run back to Crowley’s arms as soon as it was over. 

It was a fool’s errand to think that you could slip in, grab some clothing and essentials, and disappear before anybody had a chance to question you. It was even more foolish of you to think that your betrothed wouldn’t be waiting for you outside your home, calmly whittling a spear. You silently hoped it was for a hunt and not meant for you.

He stood from his seat on a nearby boulder, eyes narrowed either from the sun or from suspicion, you weren’t certain. You tried to maintain your posture even with every step you took towards him, but a small part of you regretted not telling Crowley where you were going. 

“And where have you been?” He spat at you, tossing his handiwork aside. His hands were large, just like Crowley’s, but they were not kind. You lifted your eyes from him, his overpowering body and his cruel sneer that twisted his features. He was still a young man, yet evil had corrupted any innocence of youth within him, making him look more sinister than any demon. “Playing the role of a harlot, have you?”

“I sought the consolation of a friend. You will have no reason to worry about me again.”

“No? And why’s that?” He grunted, fingers flexing. From your peripheral, you saw that most of the townsfolk had returned to their duties, but you also knew they were paying attention, listening intently to every word. 

“Because I’m not staying. I only came for some things.” You made a move to go into your home, only to have him grasp your arm to stop you. His grip did not hurt you yet, but you felt the barely restrained anger thrumming beneath his touch. It would be well within his rights as a man to strike you, but he seemed to be waiting for the opportune moment. He was egotistical enough to want a dramatic performance; the noble husband betrayed by the evil wife. 

“Where the bloody hell do you think you’re going, hm? You’re to be my wife and I’m not about to let my property leave.” His grip then tightened and he pulled you towards him, and it was then that you felt fear. Real, cold fear exploding within your veins. Your eyes closed and your body tensed. 

But his strike never came. Instead, you heard the concerned and frightened shouts of the townsfollk, and the world darkened behind your eyelids. You opened your eyes and looked at your betrothed, entranced. The skies had blackened almost instantly, heavy thunderclouds rolling it with sharp zaps of lightening. Red flashed within the puffs of the clouds, like the heated core of a volcano underneath the earth. 

“What- what is this? Witchcraft!” He bellowed, hand releasing your arm. It was then that you felt another pair of hands seize you, hurriedly but gently. As the thunder and the lightened rolled over the town, the winds tore through the buildings, shaking everything that wasn’t tied down. It looked like the end of the world. You fell back into a cloaked figure, the strong, warm hands a comforting presence. Crowley.

“Hear this now!” A voice boomed from within the shadowy figure, one unlike anything you’d ever heard before. Even as you stood behind him, unable to appreciate the entirety of the terrifying figure he’d become, you trembled at its power. “This woman’s soul is forever bound to me. Any man or force that threatens her being shall come to face the wrath of hellfire!” The thunder clashed to punctuate his sentence. 

Your former betrothed fell to the ground, agape and horrified at the vision in front of him. You smirked a bit at the sight of him, a pitiful worm writing in the dust. Crowley’s power thrummed you, the mark on your wrist coming alight at its presence. 

A wicked laugh tore from the demon, and with another clash of thunder and lightening, a bombardment of drums and flashes, you blinked and all was quiet. A small fire crackled across the room, and something delicious turned on the spit above it. A goblet of wine stood on the carved table below you. You were back in Crowley’s home. 

You turned around to find him, and in doing so, immediately found yourself nestled in his arms. You pressed your cheek against his hard chest, feeling the warmth of that aforementioned hellfire licking against your heart. His arms were strong around you, and his long curls brushed against your cheek as he tucked you underneath his chin.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going.” You murmured into his robes. You felt him shrug against you. 

“Thought it might be a bit of a laugh.” He chuckled. “And I’d show you what that mark is capable of. What I’m capable of.”

“Well, I know what you’re capable of.” You replied knowingly. You pulled away from his arms and stared up into his green gaze. “Thank you.”

“We-ell, comes with the territory, doesn’t it? Now then, I’m making breakfast. Your things are in the bedroom exactly as you left them.” You nodded and removed yourself from his embrace to go and look through your things. 

“What happened? Did you kill him?”

“What? Me? Perish the thought!” You giggled at his outrage.

“We struck a bargain, you could say. He won’t be bothering you again, you can return to the village whenever you like.”

“Not a bargain like ours, I should hope.” You teased, folding one of your frocks. Crowley was quiet for a moment, but only for the second it took for him to appear behind you, arms wrapped around your waist and lips positioned just behind your ear. 

“Why, no. Ours is a sinner’s paradise. Reserved only for me,” He pressed a kiss to your neck. “And my angel.” 

[snusbandxknifewife]

So @the-chick-of-the-air mentioned something about wanting to know what Cardan said to Randalin and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since. This is my attempt at writing what went down during that conversation, I hope you all like it!

~~~~

As Cardan Greenbriar drags his advisor into a separate room, all hints of a spoiled faerie boy are gone, replaced completely by the grace and danger of a High King who has been faced with treason.

“What vile, worm-hearted god spoke in your ear and gave you even the faintest idea that it was appropriate to enter the room of your wounded queen?” He hisses in the larger man’s ear. “And how, pray tell, did it convince you to stoop low enough to then question her sovereignty?”

A colossal, thorn-covered vine sprouts from the stone floor by the chamber door, actively shattering a brick as it moves to slam the door shut.

Randalin visibly swallows. “Your Majesty, please—“

“I must admit, Randalin, I thought you wiser than that,” Cardan continues. “I thought that you, for all your sniveling and spinelessness, would have enough foresight to see that your little plan could’ve never succeeded.”

The delicate pink roses in their little porcelain pot, set on the windowsill to capture sunlight, wither and die. Where their rotting petals fall, nightshade rises.

“I would’ve thought you would know my wife would never back down from a challenge. Especially one put forward by such a cowardly and insignificant man as you.”

Randalin stands, rooted to the floor by brambles growing over his feet, their thorns digging aggressively into his leather shoes. He watches, unable to move, as the boy king walks to where a cask of wine has been left on a table.

Cardan forgoes a goblet, instead gripping the neck of the wine bottle between his lithe fingers and turning it up, his eyes never leaving his advisor as he takes a long drink. When he sets the cask back down, wine as red as blood drips from his lips and down his chin, staining his moon-pale skin the same way castoff stains a wall during a murder.

“I would’ve thought you would realize that, even if it had worked, I’d find out about your meddling.” His voice is deadly quiet, his eyes swirling like whirlpools. “And I surely would’ve thought you smart enough to realize I wouldn’t appreciate someone taking away the woman I worked so hard to get back.”

“Your Majesty—“

“Have you ever been in love, Randalin?” Cardan cuts him off, his head tilting to the side and causing a stray drop of wine to fall onto his undershirt. “Have you ever looked into the eyes of another and felt your heart stop? Known that, as long as you live, no one will command your thoughts as this person does now?”

He steps closer, his boots clicking against the stone floor and the brambles at Randalin’s feet tightening with each step.

“Have you ever been given love, against all odds, and lost it?” He whispers in the shell of his advisor’s ear, a growl low in his throat as he does. “And were you then given that love back, only to find that someone you’re meant to trust is trying to rip it away once more?”

“The people of Elfhame will never accept a human queen.” Randalin tries, his face reddening with pain as a thorn succeeds in working its way through his shoe and into his toe.

“The people of Elfhame can all be damned.” Cardan smiles wolfishly, stepping back so he can loom over his foolish council member. “The land has chosen her, and it is the land’s support that proves a ruler’s worth here in Faerie.”

“Just because she said she was healed with the land’s help doesn’t mean we can believe her. Humans are liars, Your Majesty.”

Cardan Greenbriar walks away and turns towards the window, towards the land he and his wife will rule over until they choose for it to be otherwise. Beyond the gentle swaying of the curtains, a robin flaps by and the stars twinkle with the light of a thousand little suns.

“If you do not believe your queen’s word, believe Grima Mog, for she saw it happen.” The High King announces as he continues to look out the window, leaving the council member sweating behind him. “Jude stuffed her gutted belly full of soil and Elfhame chose to heal her. Flowers grew from the ground where her blood fell. The land answers to her, as it does to me.”

Randalin’s eyes widen. A human, a mortal with magic gifted by the land—

“How many people do you think my wife has murdered, Randalin?” Cardan’s voice is soft, the tone of a boy in love talking about his partner’s knack for making flower crowns. Not the voice of a ruler discussing his queen’s violent tendencies.

“I’m well aware that Lady Jude is—“

“High Queen Jude.” Cardan corrects, his voice void of all softness once more. “She is High Queen Jude. If you refer to her as anything else ever again, you do so at your own peril.”

“Your Majesty, if you would let me finish—“

“I shall let you finish a sentence when you begin to speak something other than nonsense.” Cardan’s tar-black eyes have the same devilish coldness in them that they had when he ripped that faerie boy’s wings at a revel so many moons ago. “Now refer to your queen by her proper title, or face the consequences.”

Randalin lets out a sigh and grits his teeth. “I am well aware that High Queen Jude is a woman with violent tendencies, but I do not know just how many lives she has claimed.”

“Nor do I.” Cardan smiles the smile of a man besotted. “She has a talent for swordplay that is unrivaled. Any night she is in my bed is a night in which I do not fear assassination, for I know my wife could kill anyone in her sleep.”

“Even you, Your Majesty.” Randalin tries to impart wisdom into his king, tries to show the boy just how dangerous this mortal girl is for both him and the kingdom.

“Especially me.” Cardan smiles as he catches Randalin’s eye, completely aware of what the older man is trying to say and also completely aware of just how wrong he is. “But she has had many chances, and she has yet to take them. Death at the hands of a god so sweet would be a gift, indeed, and yet I seem incapable of receiving such blessings.”

The brambles are growing up Randalin’s legs, cutting into his thighs and wrapping around his wrists as his arms stay by his sides.

The young man in front of him has danger etched into every line of his very being. The High King standing in this study is not the High King of days past, nor is he the High King one would ever wish to meet. Cardan Greenbriar is poison personified, malice dripping from his fanged smile and echoing in the light tapping of his fingernails on his elbow.

For the first time since hearing a doomed prince’s prophecy, Randalin feels true dread gather in the pit of his stomach.

“Do you think me a violent man, Randalin?” Cardan, who has always taken after felines in both his look and his mannerisms, seems far less cat-like than usual. It’s like his fangs hide venom, his body readying, not to pounce, but to strike.

“I’d never insult my king by suggesting something so rude, Your Majesty.”

“But you insulted your queen by suggesting that she abdicate her throne.” Cardan’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and his smile grows cruel. “So do humor me this once.”

If the fae had warning sirens, they’d be blaring in Randalin’s head right this very moment.

“No, Your Majesty.” A bramble works it’s way under his doublet, drawing blood the entire way. “I think you do not have a taste for bloodshed. At the very least, not one as strong as the High Queen’s.”

Cardan smiles as the council member finally refers to Jude by her correct title.

He steps away from Randalin once more, walking over to the bookshelf by the desk and pulling a random leather bound volume out, fingers tracing over the lettering on the spine and longing for a more familiar title.

“You know, I’ve read my fair share of mortal stories in my day,” he announces, outwardly calm even as the thorns continue to torture his advisor. “The humans have a saying, a warning of sorts, about how even the devil runs when a good man goes to war.”

He opens the book to a random page, completely ignoring the words as his nails drag down the binding.

“Now, for all my distaste in violence, I wouldn’t call myself a good man,” he continues with a small quirk to his mouth, just a little upward tilt. “I am cruel, I am petty. I delight in the suffering of those who wrong me and I’ll settle for hurting those who are lesser, if I’m unable to harm someone I feel truly deserves it.”

His foot starts tapping, a quiet beat to him but a deafening war drum to Randalin. His ears pick up the sound of a racing heartbeat and his smile grows.

“I tortured even the woman I love for years, albeit not in the ways she likely would’ve preferred, but what good is torture if someone likes it?”

He snaps the book closed and Randalin jumps as best he can in his thorny prison.

“I suppose that makes me more dangerous in war than a good man would be,” he thinks aloud as he slowly turns his gaze back to where Randalin appears to be in the process of soiling his pants. “Surely if the devil runs when a good man goes to war, he would sprint when a man of questionable morals joins the fray, don’t you think?”

“Please, Your Majesty, my recommendations were only voiced out of a concern for the well-being of the kingdom.” Randalin, a man used to lording over those beneath him, sounds dangerously close to begging. “I did not mean to offend you!”

Cardan laughs, a joyless and wicked sound. “But you have offended me, Randalin,” his eyes are wild and his grin reckless. “You have questioned my ability to choose what is best for my kingdom and you have insulted the woman who occupies my every waking thought. You have even made the grievous mistake of disturbing my wife in one of her extremely rare moments of weakness, a moment where she undoubtedly needs all her time and energy to rest.”

The nightshade occupying the rose’s former home overgrows it’s pot and begins spilling down the side of the windowsill, flowers reaching towards Randalin like little fingers.

“Your Majesty, I beg your forgiveness,” Randalin’s voice almost catches in his throat. “I won’t ever suggest that High Queen Jude abdicate again. I promise!”

“Good,” Cardan says as he steps within reach of Randalin.

Randalin lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing forward.

And it’s all a moment too soon, for the High King lashes out in the blink of an eye, his long fingers wrapping around the advisor’s throat and pushing his head back against the stone wall with an audible crack!

“Because I am the man of questionable morals, and this is war,” Cardan continues as Randalin’s spine screams in agony at the angle he’s been forced into. “I, Cardan Greenbriar, High King of Elfhame, declare war!”

His fingers tighten around Randalin’s throat, his nails already leaving bloody half-moons in the older man’s skin as he presses his forehead to the council member’s.

“I declare war on everyone who opposes my wife’s right to rule beside me as my queen and my equal,” his eyes are wild, barely containing his rage. “It is a war that is unending, a war that is complete and total, a war that I have no qualms about getting violent during.”

Randalin tried to swallow, but he can’t as the king’s hand digs into his throat even harder.

“I, a man without a love for swordplay, will take up a blade. I, a man without a taste for bloodshed, will slit a thousand throats,” he continues, “if that is what it takes for my people to respect my wife.”

Randalin’s vision swims in black, his face beginning to turn an impressive shade of purple as blood starts to gush from bramble-inflicted wounds.

“And as for you,” Cardan is close enough to see tears gather in his advisor’s eyes. “You who was bold enough to openly question the High Queen, I reserve my greatest act of violence.”

The nightshade from the windowsill has reached Cardan’s feet. It begins to grow up his legs, over his waist and down his arms, forming a crown atop his head as Randalin watches in horror.

“I will skin you alive and bleed you dry, forcing you to watch the whole time,” he leans down to whisper in Randalin’s ear. “I will break your bones and tear your flesh, and when I’m done, I will find a way to erase every mention of you. No book in Elfhame will bear your name, even the stars will rearrange when I tell them to.”

“Please—“

“And then I promise I will use your hollowed our skull as my wine goblet for the rest of my days, just because I can.”

Randalin’s knees quake as his body gasps for air.

Cardan lets him go, watching in disgust as the man falls into a pile of blood-stained brambles with a sob.

“I promise this on my honor as High King, and on the vow I made with my Wife, Jude Duarte Greenbriar,” Cardan’s voice is the voice of an executioner. “So help me gods, I will rip the world apart for her.”

“Your Majesty, how can I atone?” Randalin is reduced to weeping, his hands covering his face as he cowers at his king’s feet.

“Never question the High Queen’s sovereignty again, and see that anyone else who dares to speak treason against her understands exactly how far I’m willing to go to support her right to rule beside me.”

The nightshade around Cardan disappears, withering back into the pot before dying and being replaced by pretty roses. The brambles around the room fade into nothingness, only a broken stone and a few blood smears left to remind anyone that they were ever there.

“And do hope that I don’t have to resort to violence again,” Cardan smiles that cruel little smile he wears so well. “Jude is so much more adept at wielding the hospitality of knives.”

~~~~

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp