#looks at some of our fictives

[fictive-culture]

fictive culture is accidentally forming because an alter missed someone from their source

.

[furies-inthe-mirror]

au where everything is the same except gideon just chews bubblegum constantly idk man

[fossys]

seeing other ppl from the same source but u have vastly different experiences is always so like. the best word is intriguing to me? esp with differing source mems

like ill see ppl say they hate fanon version of their source or that they hate the canon version. ill see other ppl sourced from the same person hate ppl i was close with in source. ill see ppls relationship dynamics be completely different. some people fought constantly and for others it was nicer. differing source memories are actually so cool.

[solarisgod]

Like it's just always interesting for me to see that we have more introject alters who came from sources that I hyperfixated on than any other kind of alters. Since November last year, I've been through so much stress physically, mentally, and emotionally with the depression and dissociation that we have some more fictive introject alters around and they're all from the shows that I've been (re)watching and hyperfixating on. Stress or traumas doesn't necessarily always have to be the causes of an alter split ( but no alters can appear without a reason, there has to be a reason why they exist for them to form so the system / individual can feel safe, comforted, happier, etcetera and / or a task can be done easily, etcetera ), as, for a recent example, there was a chance of splitting increased or a fragment alter came by and took after this source when my brain has been latched onto a specific character for an alter to be created related to that character solely, as far as I can see, for that joy and comfort.

[lehhoh7822]

augh somg bird sunrieeee

My heart

[thethingything]

so whenever there's a special date we normally start celebrating it at midnight in our timezone but just end up still counting it as whatever special thing it is (like birthdays or whatever) until probably like 8am the day after (when we'd normally go to bed) because why not? it's not like anyone can stop us (plus it's also easier to still count it as the day before in most conversations because of the timezones a lot of our friends are in).

anyway, this leads to a situation where the 5th of February is a birthday for some alters, and the 6th of February is the anniversary of us forming the subsystem I'm part of, so we just have a few hours now of counting it as being both dates.

anyway happy whatever the fuck is going on here

[x-rds]

[Lio] the way I’m like this 👌 close at all times to coming out as plural online

[lovelyrotter]

fellow fictives my babes my darlings i am BEGGING YOU to stop tagging your very personal stuff with ships relating to your fictive-shape and then start talking about whether or not you ''condone'' these ships entirely purely based on your personal comfort as if youre talking about law. do what you want with your own irl body and relationships. you are not part of shipping. you are a real person. i am BEGGING YOU PERSONALLY to not partake in the crossing of these lines

[theweebsystem]

On one hand, we really want to watch CSM. On the other, based on what we've heard about some of the characters, watching it might upset our CSM fictives...

[hedonicghost]

okay I just stumbled upon your blog, and the word "wayfarers" jumped into my face and I went "...can it be???? can it be THAT Wayfarer?"

and it is indeed THAT Wayfarer! :0 you have no idea how excited I am, that's my favourite book series ever and I never expected to find like an active fandom anywhere xD also we have Ohan in our system and Sissix too, probably?? I so have to show them this account tomorrow LOL

OMG HI!!!! We also have a few Wayfarers fictives!!! There's so many systems in the wayfarer fandom omg!!! Please please please feel free to ask for any art if you ever want any!!! -☕

[lokisgoodgirl]

Peace [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After an outing to the Christmas Tree Farm goes awry, Loki does a little soul searching in his moccasins. (w/c 1.2k) Warnings: A tiny bit spicy. Like literally pepper. Fluff, some forestry angst(?) A/N: My contribution to the Secret Santa 2023 event hosted by the wonderful @fictive-sl0th - Merry Christmas @coldnique  ❤️ Request: Reader and Loki are burdened with a mission; finding the perfect tree. Unfortunately, our god doesn't deem any of the ones they see at the farm worthy so...

You watched Loki’s frown deepen as he concentrated on the road ahead. A familiar sign flashed by at the roadside, finally. Tony had given you a loan of his cabin in Vermont for the week. But festive, it was not. Not yet.

You turned up the volume on the touch-screen, hoping that Elton would rouse Loki’s mood a little. Biting your lip, you glanced at the god out the corner of your eye. No change. The trip to the Christmas tree farm had not been a success.

“They were all too...bushy, unkempt” he grumbled, switching to fifth gear with an unnecessarily erotic yank. “Well that’s what pine trees do, my love” you replied, letting your eyes run up his chest, up his neck. Loki hurmphed. “-And the needles on them were so jagged. Dry. All arrogance and no substance." He tilted his chin upwards, the hard vein in his neck throbbing at the tip of an elegant turtle-neck jumper. The god let out an incredulous scoff. “My dear you could injure your delicate mortal hands. I simply will not allow it.” He paused, nodding sagely as you approached a bend. "Arrogant. Yes, that's what they were. No individuality, no...depth,” he growled, giving a haughty sniff. You looked out the window, taking a deep and silent breath. Placing a hand on his thigh, you felt the muscles beneath his jeans work, clenching. You gave him a consolatory pat. “I mean really,” Loki continued undeterred. “Once the various trinkets you like so much are added to the tableau it will look truly ridiculous. Pompous, in fact.” “At least they were green,” you murmured. The sound of Loki’s hair whipping as he snapped to face you rustled the air. “Yes,” he snipped. “At least they were that.”

Back at the cabin, you flinched as Loki threw the door closed behind him. He strode into the kitchen, dropping the car keys in a dish with a malevolent rattle. You walked to where he stood gripping the counter top, sliding your hands around his waist. He huffed gently, before his touch covered yours. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I ruined the Christmas ambiance, didn’t I?” “A bit, yes” you replied. He huffed again. The soft, nasal kind that denoted annoyance at himself. He spun to face you.

The fine knit of his sweater pulled against your fingertips. In seconds his lips sealed to your neck, longing kisses wet against the angle of your jaw. Loki pulled you against him, soft tongue darting teasingly against your lips as he sought entry. Your hands slid up his chest, toying with the high collar tight against the sharp slate of his jaw before you slid your fingers up. They tangled in his locks, tugging gently while he moaned into your mouth.

“Ah-” he gasped suddenly, timed with a well-placed squeeze of your hand against his cock.

It pulsed against your palm. You smiled. Fucking on Tony’s counter-top was most definatley on your 'Christmas ambiance' list. The smile fell as Loki touched your hand, pulling it gently aside. He gazed at you with narrowed eyes, a thoughtful glint sparking deep within them. His lip twitched as he straightened, towering over you. Rogue curls fell around your face, the scent of his almond and redcurrant cologne that clung to every strand making your mouth water. “I cannot be held responsible for diminishing the glimmer of Yule in that precious heart of yours,” he whispered gallantly, before clearing his throat. “I shall be back presently to right this most egregious wrong.” And in the swirl of a coat and the click of the latch, he was gone.

Loki walked approximately fifteen steps before he admitted to himself that the soft leather moccasins were a bad choice.

He pulled the coat he was wearing tighter. The hem flapped against his knees as he walked. Unfortunately for Loki, he had neglected to pack alternative shoes in his pocket dimension. And furthermore, he could not abide a return to the cabin after such a flawlessly theatrical exit. A warming enchantment on his feet would have to suffice.

He walked, and he walked. And the forest grew thicker.

The god’s gaze darted between each majestic pine tree, stretching to the sky. Perfect, he mused bitterly. They’re all too perfect. If Loki had learned anything in past years about the power of this so called christ-mas, then it was that the festivities were a time for see the beauty in things oft overlooked. To celebrate that which was diminished throughout the other, more bountiful seasons. Loki could relate to that feeling. It was part of the reason he enjoyed it so much. He came to a clearing, shivering lightly as he stopped. Snow had begun to fall in silent flakes, resting atop already heaving branches. How far had he walked, he wondered. Loki looked up, closing his eyes to the bright, frozen sky. The god would never quite understand how he had found himself living happily on Midgard. In truth, how he had found himself living happily at all. It frightened him sometimes how much he saw his past-self as another. Like one of your documentaries, or a myth. Stories told as a cautionary tale with a flashlight under one’s chin in the dead of night. A fiction. And he would tell them gladly. But it was not himself of which he spoke. Not really. Not anymore. It frightened him, oh yes. Not that he would ever tell anyone that. No one but you.

But Yule is a time for honouring one’s past, he surmised. And so – the first emblem of the season he chose himself should reflect that. "Where are you?" he murmured quietly, spinning in a measured circle with his eyes closed. A flake of snow stuck to his bottom lip. He felt it melt against the warmth it found. Loki opened his eyes. He took a few steps towards the nearest tree. Tall, bushy, perfect – just like the others. But he trusted in the moment, however that worked.

His moccasins crunched, disappearing into thickening snow beneath his feet. Moisture soaked into the suede lining. The god shifted around the plump fir, pushing its branches from his path. "There you are," he whispered against the chill.

In amongst the tightly packed pine trees, sat a rather modest specimen. It was a fine tree. Noble, despite its diminutive state. A little tired. Lack of sunlight from those crowding around it had stunted its growth. Loki could see where its branches had fought for every scrap of light, twisting and adapting at strange angles. He ran his fingers gently across the vibrant spines. Plump, and luscious. None came loose. The tree was free of snow, shielded by the very branches which cramped his ascent to their level. He hummed an Asgardian chant, running his hand to the tip of the branch.

Loki waited for a response. He lowered his head, listening. It was ceremony. "This, I swear," he murmured in reverence. With the greatest care, he summoned the gentlest magic he possessed. The tree roots came away with ease, plucked from the moist soil like sponge from a greased tin. Willingly, he thought with a smile. And Loki cradled the small tree all the way back to the cabin. You were overjoyed, greeting him through the window and then at the door with a smile that would rival the brightest moon. That evening, you and he decorated the small tree with delicate ornaments. Loki was sure that he had never seen a finer Yuletide scene. And every day, in the bright winter light of the living room, and where you and Loki spent lazy nights celebrating by the warmth of the fire – that little tree grew. Love, space, freedom, faith. Loki pondered those words whenever he saw it. The god tended it every day with his magic, keeping the roots fresh in their temporarily home. And when the holiday ended, he would re-plant it. Somewhere it could continue its journey to its full potential in peace. Peace, Loki mulled as he brushed a strand of hair back from your cheekbone while you slept on his chest. Carols played. He inhaled against your hair, feeling your breaths rise and fall in time with his own. Peace.

Secret Santa 2023 taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @simplyholl @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @give-me-a-moose @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @fictive-sl0th @smolvenger Tags (cont in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips

[interstellarsystem]

Experiences With Being Out as a System

So, our parents know we're a system. It's all good, they understand that when we suddenly speak like someone from London that it's just another guy taking the body for a spin real quick and that they don't need to question it too much.

The thing is... They don't know our names, or anything about us as individuals. We don't have enough open communication with them to actually discuss the inner-workings of the hundreds of little guys in our brain and who they are or what they like, but even if we did, it's not actually important to them. It almost seems like it's swept under the rug.

Our mother said that she doesn't get why she should have to know anyone else when we're all "us". We're all just a collective to her still, a bunch of bits that make up her child, even though she knows we're separate. Her child, the original, isn't here anymore. But the thing is.. some of us want to get to know her and the family individually. Even beyond just being seen as who we actually are, we want to be a part of it aside from being treated as someone who is gone. But it's not a thing they understand despite our explanations of what it means to us, even despite the fact they know the original is dormant and has been for years.

The most anyone in our family knows about us is our mother, and she only knows anyone with a voice similar to Sark as "the american one". She doesn't know that there's even multiple who sound similar to him.

Technically, we're out as a system. Effectively, though... We're still closeted. Though not really because we're staying in it, moreso that we left but it follows us around like a shield within our own household, but it's not shielding us. It's shielding them from us.

Our experience with talking to medical professionals has been hard because of this--sharing bits about ourselves has been scary. It's scarier to show them pictures of our nonhuman headmates and say "that one is me", but it's never actually been bad when we've mustered up the strength to do it. One of them looked at Mal and saw his horns and said he looks like a faun from Greek mythology. Even though he's not, a positive response like that was empowering. That same one said Filigree's hair was cool. Little acknowledgements about who you are when you've tried to be seen before is great.

With our IRL friends, we expected the situation to be similar to our parents. Swept under the rug like a taboo and given weird, uncomfortable looks when spoken about. But it's been completely different.

We get asked who is fronting, we get acknowledged as separate people, hell, we even felt comfortable telling them about our actual fictive identities and letting the ones who wanted to follow this blog (hey guys if you're reading this <3) get access to it. They acknowledge our nonhumanity and nonhuman parts, share things about our sources with us because it reminded them of us, etc. Sometimes, now, because we've been open about it, we get people actually ask "is x fronting" and we say yes and they say "I knew it".

That specific feeling of being recognised even when your outward appearance doesn't change is absolutely amazing. Little manerisms, little ways our voice sounds even when masking accents out in public, even the words we choose to use are tells toward who is actually controlling the body and they pick up on it--even things we might not recognise we even do. Sure, there's hundreds of people in here and people won't know every single one off by heart, but the ones who are out here often are being recognised and that, to me, is amazing and validating to all of us.

I guess the point here is me sharing our experiences, but also.... You will be able to find people who see you for you. You as a system, you as a nonhuman, you as a disabled person, you as a queer person--you'll be able to find your people. And you know, I hope you do soon--because the feeling of being known is great.

[alastors-left-antler]

Cramps

It's Alastor's "time of the month", and he's afraid that people will find out. Of course, it's just his luck that his pad leaks... and Lucifer is the one to notice.

(This may be OOC, as it's based on our Alastor and Lucifer fictives)

Pairing: Radioapple (can be read as platonic, queerplatonic, or romantic)

Warnings: menstruation, internalized transphobia, T slur (said by a trans person + author is trans), smoking weed

this is the first fic we've written in a long time, apologies if it's bad lmao

-

Alastor sighs as he steps out onto the roof of the Hazbin Hotel. He leans against the wall and lights a cigarette, staring out at the city.

His smile slips ever so slightly as yet another cramp shoots through him.

"Ugh..."

Alastor quickly masks his pained expression as he hears a footstep behind him. He immediately recognizes the click of those heels.

"Hello, Lucifer." He turns to face the King of Hell.

Lucifer raises an eyebrow. "Alastor. I didn't take you for a smoker."

Alastor takes a drag from his cigarette. "Well, I am."

He turns away, wishing Lucifer would just leave him alone. He's in no mood to talk.

He silently curses as Lucifer leans against the wall next to him.

"You look even more tense than normal."

"And you're being even more annoying than normal." Alastor's annoyance is clear in his eyes, despite his unwavering smile. "Would it be too much to ask to be left alone?"

Lucifer raises an eyebrow. He recognizes the discomfort in Alastor's voice.

"Fine, then." He starts to leave, then turns back to say something else... but something catches his eye.

Alastor glances over at Lucifer. "What are you staring at?"

Lucifer clears his throat. "You, uh... got a little something."

Alastor's eyes widen when he realizes where Lucifer is looking. He immediately takes his coat off and ties it around his waist. "Leave me alone."

Lucifer nods and leaves.

Alastor is mortified. He tosses his cigarette and disappears into his shadow, appearing in his room. He goes straight into the bathroom and strips his pants off. His pad is entirely soaked.

"Damn it..."

He quickly fills his sink with cold water and dunks his soiled pants into it. He sprays some hydrogen peroxide on the stain and gently washes it out.

Alastor puts on some clean pants and a fresh pad. He's hanging the wet pants on the shower rod to dry when he hears the door open.

"So this is why you've been so pissy."

Alastor immediately shoves Lucifer out of the bathroom and locks the door. "Get out!"

Lucifer is too caught off guard to fight back. He just stands there, staring at the door.

Alastor leans against the door and sinks down to the ground, feeling humiliated.

---

That night, Alastor curls up in bed, unable to sleep. He's cramping too bad, and the painkillers he took aren't doing anything. He just lays there, in a fetal position, hoping he'll just conk out already.

A knock sounds at the door, and Alastor groans. He gets up, takes a deep breath, puts on a smile, and opens the door.

"Lucifer. I should have known."

Lucifer pushes his way into the room. Alastor simply collapses back down onto the bed, too exhausted to argue.

"Alastor, when are you going to learn to ask for help?" Lucifer sits on the bed next to Alastor.

"...I don't need help. You worry even more than your daughter does."

Lucifer sighs and pulls the blanket off of Alastor's face, revealing his pained expression. "The tears in your eyes tell me otherwise."

It's true, there are tears welling up in Alastor's eyes. He curls up completely, as if trying to hide in himself.

Alastor suddenly feels something being pressed against his abdomen. He flinches slightly, but then he realizes that it's... warm?

"What is this?"

Lucifer sits back down. "A heating pad. It'll help the cramps."

Alastor lays there for a moment, feeling that the heat is indeed helping. He's realizing how caring Lucifer is being, and it makes him feel... safe.

"...thank you."

Lucifer gently rubs Alastor's arm. "I just don't get how someone can be so stubborn that they just suffer in silence."

Alastor weighs his options. Should he trust Lucifer with his feelings?

"...fine. You want to know why I don't trust anyone?" He sits up and looks at Lucifer nervously.

Lucifer nods slightly.

Alastor takes a deep breath. "Do you have any idea how much power I would lose if people knew what I'm really like?"

"Alastor, what are you-"

"I only have power because I'm feared. Do you realize how many people would just look down on me if it came out that I'm a tranny that can't handle a period cramp?" Alastor stops as he realizes he's crying.

Lucifer gently takes his hand. "Take a breath. I'm not going to tell anyone you're trans, okay?"

Alastor hiccups and takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Why wouldn't you? Plenty of people would jump at the opportunity to take me down like that."

"Alastor, you should know by now that I'm not like that. Sure, I fight with you a lot, but I'd never out you like that."

Alastor just pulls the blanket back over himself and curls up with the heating pad. The hormones from his period are making him emotional, but he's already overwhelmed by how vulnerable he feels.

Lucifer just sighs. He snaps his fingers, and in his hand appears a blunt.

"Here. This'll help the pain, and call you down."

Alastor looks at it, taking a breath. "...well, alright..."

The two of them share the blunt, and Alastor quickly calms down.

"Thank you, Lucifer... I think I might be able to sleep now."

Lucifer gently tucks Alastor in, pleased that he managed to help him.

"Sleep well, Al."

[gold-snek-hoe]

Hello and welcome to Opinions from an Internet Nobody. Today's essay:

"Ger therapy" is the new "You need Jesus": One Weirdo's Navigation through Cultural Shame

This is a supposedly well-meaning sentiment that is often weaponized against people who are behaving outside of perceived cultural norms. It's a favorite of homophobes who see queerness/transness as a mental illness, but I've been seeing it used to demonize kink (which historically is often linked to queerness), and more generally any "weird" behavior that makes people uncomfortable.

For example, otherkin, systems (especially those with fictives), and people who take fictional characters as partners. Y'know, "weirdos" who "can't separate reality from fiction." And, sure, sometimes there can be a problem with that distinction, but I know as well as you that most internet strangers saying "get therapy" don't actually give a shit about the mental health of those they target. It's code for "your behavior makes me uncomfortable, stop it."

Same sentiment as "you need Jesus."

This has actually taken me a long time to figure out. I've been in therapy for my entire adult life, working through various traumas, severe depression, anxiety, all that. Those were the biggest problems as they negatively impacted, and often endangered, my life. It was only after my hospitalization in 2020, where I was finally put on much needed medication, that I could start to grow into myself.

I changed my name. I top surgery. I came out as polyamorous. I finally got my official autism diagnosis. Now I'm fuckin' married! But... there are still things I'm working through in therapy. Mainly, shame over my "weirder" behaviors. My current therapist has been a huge blessing in helping me accept the things I was too ashamed to admit.

Now, I feel comfortable enough to share.

I'm otherkin. Always have been. My connection to my humanity is tenuous, and I'm sure that's connected to my autism. When mad, I feel phantom horns sprouting from my forehead. I have a tail that swishes back and forth at the base of my spine. In my soul, I am monstrous, and years of therapy has not erased that.

I feel like I'm only half in the physical world most of the time. This doesn't hinder my real-world success (I graduated college Summa Cum Laude, have an IMDB page, and am on my third book), but informs the way I look at the world. There's a whole other universe in my head that hums along with me in my day-to-day. That's part of why I'm so skilled as a writer. To ask me to divorce from that is to tell me to stop existing. Sorry, it's how I've always operated.

Lastly, and this is the one I'm really anxious about, I have a fictional husband. Now, looking at my blog, you might say "yeah, no shit," but I don't just ship myself with him. I mean I practice pop-culture Witchcraft, and the Goblin King is my patron. I mean I have a Labyrinth-themed tarot deck that I talk to him with. I mean I held a ritual to spiritually marry him. Basically, I Snape-wived myself.

And guess what? My therapist isn't concerned. It's not hurting my ability to live my life. I have other interests, hobbies, and goals outside of him, which he actively encourages in all our tarot sessions! I wouldn't be doing this if he didn't support me. My IRL spouse is usually there for whatever magical shit I'm doing, and supports me! Some of my closest friends know, and the only complaint I've gotten is "this guy seems important to you, I wish you told me sooner." Hell, my MOTHER knows and supports me, which is huge, because our relationship was pretty damaged after I came out as trans.

If you have a problem with the way I live my life, when literally nobody else does, take a good long look at why. You don't give a fuck about my mental health. You just don't like that I'm weird.

Tl;dr: My mental health is better than it's ever been since embracing the weird, so leave me and my imaginary husband Marak Sixfinger alone.

[thethingything]

oh yeah on the topic of our fashion choices, apparently at one point in 2019 we'd wear a beanie, some sunglasses, and a mask whenever we went outside and honestly, 10/10 in terms of privacy but you absolutely cannot do that when it's warm out

[smolvenger]

The Tavern Prince (Prince Hal x fem! Y/N Oneshot)

Summary: You are shocked and unhappy to find out you are betrothed to notorious rake, Prince Hal. But one evening, he sneaks you into the Boar's Head Tavern...and your mind about him starts to change.

Warnings: Smut at the end!! 18+ NSFW! (thigh riding, fingering, loss of virginity, dirty talk, good ol' p in v). Reader is super Proper and Prim and has a stick up her butt just because I wanted her to in this fic for the drama and tension of paring her with Hal (and I'm sick of Pick Me Girls in Historic Fiction. So Much) Mentions of sex and cheating (but no actual cheating, our boy would never. Trust me, I'm a Shakespeare expert). Not believable, but we're running on vibes, not accuracy so forget that couples were chaperoned or whatever. References to Shakespeare's plays and words (like "Die"= slang for orgasm and "wag"= boy).

Word Count: 9K (get some water, besties, and whores)

Taglist: @huntress-artemiss @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract (smut starts at "sweetest of ladies" and ends at "Hal...I have no words.." btw bestie for your comfort) @eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@muddyorbsblr

“Y/N, we have something very exciting to announce. The king has given his consent. You are going to marry the prince…” your father announced to you at the table. Your mother nodded her head beside him. 

You let a smile spread across your face. You were so thrilled you held your breath for a second. This was an honor beyond anything you could comprehend of what he would say. How many would want that honor? What woman didn’t want to be a princess? There were many princes in the world, but it had to be one of the English princes. They couldn’t mean some other country. The English king had four sons- which one was your groom? Likely not the youngest two- Humphrey and Thomas. They were boys, far too young for marriage. 

That meant- the second eldest son! You interrupted in your excitement.

“Oh! I am to marry John of Lancaster! Oh, mother-father! How wonderful! He’s the sweetest youth- and he is always at each meeting with his father, the king! Oh, what a good husband he will be! I am so hap-”

“Y/N, I believe you misunderstood us,” your mother cut in. 

You froze, blinking quickly.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “I’m not marrying a prince?”

“No, you are…” replied your mother.

If not Humphrey, if not Thomas, if not John…that left one English prince.  

They smiled and took your hands across the table. 

“The one who matters. The one who will make you one day queen of England through your union…”

Oh no, you thought, God’s blood, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, please, please oh Lord Above- please not him please not-

“You betrothed to his grace, the Prince of Wales, Henry Lancaster…”

It felt like a punch. You blinked, and your voice got smaller.

“You mean…Prince Harry?”  you asked.

“Oh, yes, dear girl! Our daughter- Princess of Wales and then Queen of England!” your mother cooed. She went up and hugged you. Not that she could see the frown growing on your face.

Your father kissed your forehead. You put on a small smile. A practice one when they were looking. You swallowed it back. 

You should have been thrilled to find out you were marrying the prince of Wales, the heir to England, to Bolingbroke, to the Lancasters. Your rational mind knew it was a huge honor.

But married to Prince Harry- no, Hal! That was what his vile friends all called him! Seems fit you should think of him as such!

Hal, the rake. The riotous son. The dishonorable son. The one with a dozen prostitutes at his heels! He even wore a glove from one to a joust once!  The rebel. The drunk. The prankster. The scoundrel. The son his father wished could be swapped for another- everyone knew that. The reason why John of Lancaster was always in court? Because Hal was so little seen in the castle and at events and never appeared! Shirking his responsibilities to hang around bars! With seedy thieves and criminals and who knows what else!

You were not strangers. You had spoken with him the few times he had been in court. Your parents were good friends and old allies of Henry Bolingbroke before the chaotic events that crowned him.  The few banquets Hal appeared, you were there. He only appeared at that ball a few days ago. You did have a dance with him. He spoke some, no more than polite subjects and small talk. But he seemed bored. Perhaps his father was breathing down his neck not to sneak out. 

This was to be your husband?!! And this was to be the king?! The one not even his own father could be proud of?!  Bound to until only Death did you Part!?

When you went to your private quarters, and no one was around, you went to your bed and screamed into your pillow. 

You could already see your married life. Picture it in your head. Princess Y/N and Prince Hal, soon King Hal and Queen Y/N. The banquets would be a mess. Late into the night, there would be crowds of dirty, smelly people. Laughing with food still in their mouths and spitting and pissing all over the banquet halls. There would be thieves trying to reach to grab the jewels on you. Or try to grope you, only there would be no protection. So many drunkards vomiting all over the pretty stone hallways and throwing rocks through the tall windows. 

Your waking vision of your future spiraled further in your head. You knew you would have separate quarters. You would have to go alone- you knew your husband's bed would have one if not two if not four ladies of the night to pleasure him until dawn. Or he would go into your room, bold and drunk with liquor and lust. He had the right to barge in when he wanted now. 

It made you want to cry.  

Three days later, there was a celebratory dinner at the castle for the betrothal announcement. All of you sat down. You were decked in a dark green dress and some jewelry given to you. To make you seem more regal. Not that it made you feel that way. You sat with your family, the King of England wrapped in his dark furs. The three younger Lancaster brothers all looked at you with small smiles- perhaps looking forward to having a sister-in-law. There was just one very crucial seat next to you left empty.

Of course, once the wine was poured and dishes were just set, in strode in, red leather jacket, hat, and all, none other than your intended.

You hated that he was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. An ivory face with tall cheekbones, a high forehead, and blue eyes. Tall and lean. He waltzed in with a slight smirk. His arms dangling back and forth so casually. A slight smile on his face.

“I apologize, I am late, I know!” he announced.

The king stood up, his hands over his thick, dark robe on his hips. Following him, everyone else rose up 

“Harry-where have you been?! We were just about to dine at your betrothal dinner!” he chided.

“Only getting ready, father! I wanted to be more presentable-” he insisted, still standing.

“You will be punctual in the future, especially to show respect to your bride!” the king added on, gesturing to where you sat.

You only looked down at your plate. Bride, bride, bride. Once you thought of the word like a dream, like the word “fairy.” Something light and lilting- surreal and beautiful. Something you could attain too. But it only made your stomach curl.

 You could feel Hal’s eyes, already on you. Then he walked forward and pulled out the chair next to you.

As the king sat down, all sat down. 

Everyone began to eat. You barely could look at Hal. When you did, you found his eyes would drift up to see you. Then at once, you pulled yours down. Then your mother boasted of you.

“Our daughter- she was raised in a convent as any lady should be. The nuns all praised her as a good student- so quiet, ladylike, and diligent in her studies. She is learning all the dances done at parties. Oh- and her needlework is wonderful!”

You stood up, nodding.

“Yes! I sewed on little strawberries on my handkerchief! And I am making some new needlework of a pink rose, like the ones in the springtime-”

Your voice cut you off. Aware you were gushing so much. It wasn’t just the fact that the king watched. He was so used to his sons that a younger female presence was fascinating. King Henry the Fourth himself looked at you with a smile and soft eyes.

No- because Hal was listening and watching. you swallowed and looked next to you. Hal’s face was neutral. He leaned on the table, a mouth over his lip, scratching his chin. You saw him swallow a little and then look back down at his meal.

He didn’t like you. Didn’t even like you, you knew it. He was already thinking of how boring you were! You did have a cousin named Beatrice. She was the one who was climbing trees, and talking saucily to everyone and rebelling and speaking and laughing wildly. If only she wasn’t married by now! Then your family would throw her Hal’s way and they would be happy! If he had to marry at all, it should be someone like her! Not like…not like…not like you…He wouldn’t like you, either. You were sure. Calling you boring just because you prioritized manners and decency. Laughing at your sewing and the dresses you cherished so much. 

“Oh, I am sure they are quite pretty, Y/N. And what think you, Harry?” the king asked.

Hal perked up.

“They…they should be.” he replied. 

Copying what his father said .Of course.  He took another bite and then he put a hand over his mouth again.

“Now- we must set a date for these children. What dates shall you say?” the king asked.

You and Hal shared a look and then perked up.

“We want enough time to prepare a decent wedding, of course. And to prepare them. Yet…the new Lancaster family must be secured through another heir, we know…” your father replied.

You could have thrown up the wine in your stomach. You looked down, not daring to see the look on Hal’s face. 

“I agree. And my son must settle- therefore, I say two months from now shall give us enough time,” the king confirmed.

Two months?! It seemed so short. Not even time to come around to it. 

You always wanted romance. To be wooed and won and courted. You dreamed of the day love would finally shine in some man’s eyes as he fell to his knees and begged for your heart and hand. Not thrown away to a scoundrel who didn’t like you.

“Now- don’t you be so worried, dear daughter,” the king consoled.

You looked up, and you saw him smile kindly at you.

“I remember the days I was nervous about my nuptials, too. Do not be afraid, lady Y/N- you will leave your family, but you will have a new one. Think of me more of a father here than king. You shall have me and three brothers who will look after you and be sure you want for nothing, my dear. And therefore…”

His eyes shot to Hal.

“If this rapscallion does anything to you before the marriage- hurts you. Breaks your heart-anything. You shall come to me and ask to end the betrothal, and you will have my blessing.”

Hal’s jaw dropped.

You gave the king a smile, a genuine one.

“Thank you, your grace.”

You went back down to your food, eating with more of a flourish. Hal then turned to you. It was the first few words he spoke directly to you that night. You braced for a bawdy joke about your wedding night from him, but there was none.

“We do have confits, here, my lady- would you like to try some?” he asked.

He offered you a golden bowl full of little sweets. They were tiny white spheres. He pressed the bowl your way as you peeked in.

“I’ve never had any,” you remarked.

“They are well, after dinner.“Here- try some,” he said,

You popped one in your mouth. And let out a sound of appreciation. They were very light and sweet, you nodded your head.

“Hm- very nice. And they are…sweet, my lord,” you commented.

You took another one as the servants arrived to clear your plates.

The next day was a formal announcement. It would be put on the doors of every church. And all of the court was gathered to watch with their rich cloaks and jewels glinting in the sun. 

In Hal stumbled. How pale he looked- no doubt still hungover. He looked at you and he stopped. Then he stepped forward. You felt as if it was a wedding ceremony already and it made lightning 

“We hereby announce an engagement- his majesty, Henry of Lancaster and the Lady Y/N will be married in two months time. Though they are already married in our eyes- we shall congratulate them on their union and the nuptials to follow,” announced the king to applause.

He turned to you both. He gave his son strict instructions, his eyes stern.

“Now Harry- kiss her and call her your princess,” ordered the king.

Hal looked down on you. He licked his lips, looking down at yours. Dear lord- was he about to kiss you before everyone! You instintually jerked a little away. He froze. Hesitated. He lowered his mouth and then set it tight shut again. Then your intended whispered in your ear.

“The cheek?”

You paused. It didn’t sound as bad as the lips.

“Yes,” you answered. 

He gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek with it seemed half of England to witness. 

This is began. Four long weeks of learning everything one had to know of being a princess. Learning French to converse with ambassadors, the history of the throne, the order of the servants, current matters, in addition to etiquette (which you took to very well) and so many things your head spun. Numerous formal public events where you had to stand by Hal and pretend you were a smiling, happy bride. Swallowing back what you really thought of him.

 Only talking to him when required. 

You didn’t doubt tha the didn’t like you.

No doubt he wishes he was off in Esatcheap, you thought. He doesn't even tolerate me.

All of your life, you did what you were told. It kept the peace. You never asked for much- just to be safe and content. Hopefully one day, maybe one day, fall in love with some nice gentleman and  marry him. A nice, peaceful, happy life. But instead- you had him?! Why couldn’t it be John instead? Or some foreign prince! One who didn’t get drunk constantly!

One day, you had time to yourself. You sat there with your embroidery, putting the pink thread in and out of the white cloth. Glad it could relieve the stress of your mind. In walked Hal, he was a member of the family now and was welcome in and out of your home. You only looked up, acknowledging him. 

“How are you, my lady?” he asked.

“I have been quite busy.” you answered.

He didnt have his cap, but kept on his red leather jacket and dark pants. His auburn curls that shone like amber when he walked by a ray of sunlight. And how…well fitting his jacket was on him. There was something stirring on you when you looked at him that you didn’t like. Attraction and yet also disgust.

“What did you…do this morning, my lady?” he asked. He fiddled with his hands placed on his lap.

He was forcing himself to spend time with you- you knew it. Just trying to be nice, pretending to be nice.

“Said my prayers, Ate breakfast. Wrote a few letters. I had a walk about…” you reported.

“That sounds very nice, Y/N,” he replied.

He sat up. Folding his arms, he leaned against the wall. He gave you a smile as he looked down on you, licking his lips. You had a guess as to what his thoughts were now. But here, without a thousand eyes watching over you, you could indulge in bluntness. 

“And you, no doubt, enjoyed your morning with your whores from the London streets,” you sniped, pulling the pink thread through again. “We might as well be honest with each other if our parents want us to marry, Hal. Expecting fidelity from you is like expecting a fish to sprout wings and feathers. I’m saving myself the disappointment.” 

You  kept your eyes down. Ready to stitch in the next one when Hal said-

“I have not lain with whores…”

You turned your face to meet his, and found his eyes hardening. His smile dropped. He stood up from leaning against the wall. You found your own mouth opening a little, though the words struggled to come out.

“What…what did you say?” you asked. You weren’t sure if you heard it right.

“I…I have not lain with a whore in…five months, Y/N. I will tell you that…”

Guilt burned inside you. You turned your eyes down.

“Oh…I’m sorry…my mistake…” you wished earnestly. “I just know how your…reputation of…you know…”

“I cannot blame you that…” he commented.

You kept sewing, with a bit more fervor. You saw Hal out of the corner of your eye get closer to you, sitting beside you. 

“You are always busy, my lady. Always doing something. Don’t think I do not notice how you study everything one must know to…to… I hardly see you smile.” he said. 

You looked up at him.

“I have serious matters to bear- and I for one, take this upcoming marriage seriously…” you said. “If I must adapt to life in the castle, life as a princess-your princess- I will know how…”

“It is all you do…”

“It’s my duty to…it’s what…what it means to…to marry you…” you sputtered out.

You didn’t know why you suddenly felt so anguished, so sad. You saw the imprint of hte needle on your fingertips. They felt sore- how long had you sewn?

“You think I don’t…don’t take this marriage seriously?! That I don’t take you seriously?!” Hal asked.

You tossed it down and went to the window to look outside to the green trees and grey sky. Unable to face him, wrapping arms around yourself. Feeling tears in your eye ducts.

“Hal…you know I am not the kind of person you’d choose to be your wife…you know I am not the kind of lady you fancy…just go…I don’t care if you’re betrothed to her or buy her for the night, at least you’ll be happy with some other woman. Just…just admit it…You don’t like me, I will…I’ll just make you miserable, I’ll…spare you the disappointment. I’ll speak to your father- ask him to end it… just- go and end the betrothal and leave me in peace…”

You felt a few tears in you. 

“My lady…you’re…you’re crying…” he commented. 

You heard him walk behind you. You finally confessed it all.

“Hal…I wanted…I just wanted to..to have a good life. A normal, peaceful life. I dreamt of…of love and of being wooed and courted and romance…and now here I am, but…but…I’m…”

You thought of it. The upcoming days. Everything. Your life upheaving. Married and made royalty in months.

“I’m just…overwhelmed…” you confessed.

You felt tears go down your eyes. You flinched. You expected him to laugh at you. To scoff at you. He didn’t.

You turned around to him. He found your handkerchief, white with strawberries sewn on it, and handed it to you. You wiped off your face.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“The reason father wanted me to marry you was that you were always so good, so rule-abiding. He believed you would tame me. But I see you…you’re so afraid of pleasing others. You forget your own pleasures in life-haven’t you ever wanted to see life? Life outside of manors and castles? See real people? Not lords and ladies- What it is like?” he asked, leaning closer to you.

You looked up. He opened his hand. You accepted it.

“You look like you have never relaxed a day in your life! And for all your assumptions about me…have you ever seen a tavern, my lady?” he asked.

“I…I…uh…no. No, I haven’t,” you confessed.

“Then…how about a change of scene?” he asked. He gave a small wink. It made you a little breathless.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

You were dressed in some peasant clothes that fit you- a simple blue dress over a white shift and a brown belt and long sleeves. Simple, but pretty. You liked pretty things and wanted to feel a little even as a peasant. Hal in his usual red leather. You both rode out on his black horse He took you out to those streets. It buzzed with flies. You could smell meat and see the butcher’s wares of dead animals hung out everywhere. A tall dog wagged its tail and sniffed the ground. It went up to you and you petted it. He felt scruffy and soft and panted with a smile. Then he went about sniffing. Hal turned to you. He looked out. It was a steady crowd of people going about. You couldn’t help but look about you.

“Here, my lady…take my hand,” he offered, outstretching his.

“How come?”

“I don’t want you to get lost,” he explained.

You accepted it. Feeling it’s warmth as he walked you through. Many turned to see him and bowed to him. It amazed you. He looked around- you never knew so many just ordinary people. All about. Lvinig their lives- how fascinating they were.

He then smiled.

“This…this is the one. The one that’s my favorite!”

It was called The Boar’s Tavern. He helped you in. Already it was crowded with people. Wooden and smelling of roasting, rich, savory meats and of ale, of wine. People chatted everywhere. Children played about with balls made of cloth. Ladies sat on the laps of men and laughed.

In was a woman with an apron, a hat over her head, and fingerless gloves. She was short and had grey hair and bright, red cheeks from her bustling about. 

“Aye! It is his grace, our Hal!”

He went up to her and kissed the side of her head.

The woman turned over and peeked at you, merely folding your hands before you. 

“And my-who is this lady?”

You curtsied out of habit and placed your hands before you. Suddenly shy.

“Mistreress Quickly-this is the lady Y/N. She is…she is my betrothed. Lady Y/N, this is Misteress Quickly-she owns and runs this tavern.”

You looked about. To think- she, a lady, ran this whole business! It was hers! She wasn’t a whore or a wife, she was a woman of business!

“All of this is yours?” you asked.

“Aye, it is. A right and good establishment, if I say so.” Mistress Quickly boasted.

“It’s…it’s very…it’s cozy…and it looked fun!” you said.

“Oh, we do have some fun. Hal-pour her some sack. We will give her some and a meal, on the house! Especially one about to be Lady Hal- oh, to think I’d see the day!” she remarked. 

She went over to gather up a fire for your meal and drinks. Men went about to lounge and laugh with each other. And about were women. Their shoulders exposed, and dresses cut to show more of their decolletage. Would they laugh at you? No…they were focused on drying their laundry. Or their eyes would turn up to you, nodding heads in acknowledgment before returning to their business. Misteress Quickly arrived and handed you both cups of wine or “sack.” It felt cheaper than what you drank at home-but stronger, burning down your belly. 

Then, finally, one approached you. Her head tilted in curiosity. She had unbrushed blonde hair and a dirty dress that revealed her shoulders. She put her hands on her hips.

“Why- you’re the lady Y/N, ain’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, yes I am. Pleased to meet you. What is your name?”

“Eh, call me Doll,” she answered. 

It was obvious-A whore! A real one! Flesh and blood! But even if she was one…you still owed her good manners. She looked down and then up at you.

“Why then- good to meet you too. I can tell already you’ve never had to put a toe here- but need not fear. We’re a merry bunch. Harmless. Everyone’s all laughter and drinks and all.,” she advised.

“That…that sounds nice…” you replied.

She went up to you, gently slapping your arm to hold it. Speaking already as if you were an old friend. 

“But you don’t have to be so all ‘yes my lord’ and ‘no my lord,’ here. Some old goat bothers you, you shove ‘im off. Here…have yourself a drink…”

“I…I’ve never met a…a whore before…” you commented.

“Why, now you have. Don't be scared- I don’t bite,” she said.

Mistress Quickly handed you a cup. Hal was already teasing a serving man named Francis with how many times he could run about. 

“Do you…like what you do?” you asked Doll.

“When the man’s nice, like my dear old Jack here” she gestured to Falstaff. “You get enough to get by.”

“Are you scared of having a baby?” you asked.

“You learn all the herbs and tricks to stop that. Most men want you to pleasure them with your mouth, anyways- can’t have a baby there,” 

You looked down at your cup, warm with embarrassment. Then you asked further, lowering your voice.

“Have you…been with Hal?”

She let out a little a small smile. She didn’t lower her voice. 

“Course I have! Yes-some of the women say he visited them. He’s a regular!” she told you.

“Doll, What was he…he like? Does it…does he hurt you?” you asked agian in a quite voice. 

“Hurt! Oh no! He’s sweet as can be! He won’t hurt you- unless you ask him to give you a good slap as he’s ridin’ you!”

She laughed at your embarrassed look.

“I’m…I’m his intended so…I wanted to know, to be ready…” you explained.

“Oh! Nervous for your duty and all that!? Well, I’ll tell you- he is a good man. And he’ll be good to you when it’s your turn. Now…what do you think of the sack?”

You took another sip of your cup. 

“It’s…it’s so good!”

“Try it with honey-it’s even better!”

 She showed you a honey jar and poured a little in your cup. And yes- it was even better. 

Then in stumbled an old man. So bulbous and a face so red he reminded you of a tomato. His white hair and great white beard, boasting to a crowd. 

“Three men! Oh no- I tell you- it was five men, hm yes! Five men I defeated there!” he bragged to the dirited companions surrounding him, all with amused looks. 

Then his eyes lit up, seeing you. 

“Falstaff…this is Y/N”

“Yes, and when I saw those six men, I-”

The man called Falstaff paused his bragging and turned to see you. He put his hands over his hips to look at you.  You curtsied again.

“Pleased to meet you, sir.” you said. 

The old man, plumper than a peach with a long grey beard and a red face went to you. He looked you up and down. Then he talked-talked so much you didn’t have time to reply. 

“Hmmm, ah, yes. This is the Y/N-the famous Y/N, lady Y/N. Yes-how much I see already. Her hands positioned to hold- the little smile, her posture-mmph, can tell already where she’s been. One of those convent girls. But if that is who will make Hal die on his wedding night, he will die smugly… I tell you, sweet wag-”

You turned  your eyes down before the floor. Falstaff was talking so boldly of…le petit mort in a public space! But you should have guessed from the whores how open everything was here. Hal blushed and put his head down. You looked away. Falstaff released a large laugh at your reaction. 

The old knight turned to Hal and patted his shoulder. 

“I’ve conquered many a heart in my day. Oooo, old Jack Falstaff has ways with women. Hmm- the letters I’d send them. There is a Lady Ford and a Lady Page and with one letter  to each, I’ll cuckold their husbands easily! So- here’s my advice, wag. Give her a sweet word, a letter -and she’ll be yours. I can show you the format- yes, yes. No woman can resist the love of the knight, Falstaff…I doubt even less this-”

He pinched Hal’s cheek.

“-Handsome, young prince here!”

He handed you the letters he planned on sending them. To your immense surprise, it was the same one only the names were switched. Before you could comment he got them again and folded them up, putting them in his pocket.

“Hmm- this calls for celebration- for Hal’s marriage and my seduction! Francis! Come over, lad! Give some sack before I die!”

He waddled over to where the cup bearer sat.

“Should we tell him? The letters are the same?” you asked.

“I would rather sit by and watch and laugh at him!” Hal replied. 

Then in came a young man with dark hair and dark eyes-slender and with a triangular nose.

“Oh here! A lady is here?! A new lady-” he said. 

“Why, Poins-here-I would like you to meet her. This is Lady Y/N.”

You made your curtsies again. He only gave you a cheeky smile. 

“Oh, well- tis time!” he muttered.

Hal shot to him with wide, nervous eyes. 

“Poins I-”

Poins then swooped you into his arms. You let out a little shreik from the feeling. 

“Hal! I have your maid! And now she is mine!” he teased.

So light and fun, you did not feel any fear. He caught you and lifted you above him with his strong arms. You were surprised at his strength- he hoisted you up and began running through the tavern. People laughed as Poins ran about with Hal chasing him and even you couldn’t help but laugh too. 

“Oh, Poins, you dog! Let me have her!” Hal cried.

Quickly he ran, you squealed from the feeling. Up high and dangling as Poins ran off. He went to a quick corner in one end and set you down. After seeing that he was hidden, he turned to you. 

“He will never admit it-but the man adores you, Y/N!” he confided.

Your jaw dropped.

“He…he what! Since…the bethrothal?” you asked.

“Before that- for several months since he met you! Won’t even touch Doll anymore!”

Shock flooded your system. The words earlier- they made sense.

Poins put up a hand. 

“ I swear he’s like some doe-eyed lover in a romance for you! He could hardly speak to you in your bethrothal- you make him nervous, Y/N! He wanted nothing more than you since when you first met! And now he sighs and pines. He blushes like a maiden! And seems half a man whenever your name is brought up! Y/N- And I must tell you something!”

He leaned closer.

“Long before the betrothal was a whisper…there was one night. It was dark and four in the morn. My sweet honey lord was quite drunk. He would sigh into his cup. I had to be fetched to drag him to a bed. Do you know what he was muttering? He cursed into his cup, lamenting “Y/N- sweet creature- Oh, Y/N! Curse the day Fate gives you to another!’ before he fell to the floor. Dear lady-show him a little mercy! Or be clever- Turn this prince into your servant when you can!”

You had no words. Your eyes are wide. Of course…this could be a lie. Just something he was making up to flatter you. To prank you. But, something inside of you was telling you it was truth…if so, why would he lie to you? What would Poins gain?

Then Hal swept in, his face bright red.

“Please, enough! Are you hungry, my lady!? I think you should to dinner- there’s going to be music you might like.” he suggested.

“Of…of course,  Hal,” you replied.

He turned around, his eyebrows going up as you used his nickname. The one his friends here called him. 

As you reached over, you clasped his hand. Hal went still for a moment, seeing that you eagerly put yours in his. Feeling your touch. Then he went on.

As you ate, you noticed women left with men. They held the hands of their customers and led them to their rooms. Then the moans and grunts and the rhythms of something hitting the walls not long after. Wet sounds, too- without shame of their volume.  You swallowed the urge to gasp and looked down in embarrassment. Hal only gave a smirk as he ate on.

“Are they…” you turned to Hal.

“They aren’t reading, I can tell you that…” Hal laughed as he picked up some meat and chewed it in his mouth. 

“They’re so…so loud…so…so shameless, I never….Wouldn’t they be embarrassed?” you asked.

Yet part of you…you would never admit it…the sounds also…you liked them. You…envied them. And with Hal so near. His leather just brushed against your arms. 

“When one finds pleasure here, they don’t feel ashamed of it. They just enjoy it.”

“Isn’t it…sinful?” you asked.

“Sinful for how their bodies react when they touch each other? How God made them? If they agree to it, it cannot be, I think…”

 Both of you finished your meals. The sounds of their pleasure became dimmer. You heard people get out instruments and play them. There was starting to be laughter. A gentleman with a large and red nose- Bardolph, went up and greeted Hal. As Hal went up to welcome his friend, you suddenly felt a tug on your arm.

There was a gentleman at least ten years your senior. He had sharp eyes and his strong arm pulled you closer. He gave you a wide, lascivious smile as he handed you several coins.

“Here, girl…” he said.

“Sir…what is this?” you asked, looking at the coins.

“This, this is for you, of course, my dear.”

“For me?”  you repeated.

 It then hit you why. 

He grabbed your arms.Panic surged through your system. He tried to drag you off to the nearest dark corner, but you forced your feet still. Tugging at him, struggling to break off. You managed out of his arms, and then he grabbed your hand. But you stayed still. A glimpse at Doll Tearsheet and your heart was racing. 

“Sir- there’s been a mistake! I’m a lady! I am not a whore!” you stated.

“Ah, the whore thinks she can refuse, eh?! Why else would Misteress Quickly bring a new beauty to The Boar’s Head!” he asked.

“I’m just visiting, sir! Doll is right over there! And plenty of others could use it more than me!” you cried. Glancing towards the other women.

Doll’s head perked up and she sensed something amiss. Even the whores looked among each other in seriousness once they realized what was happening. 

“This money’s not for Doll, it’s for you. You would be a delight in bed tonight!”

Doll touched the arm of the prince by Bardolph, alerting him. 

You were ready to fight him, ready to run, then in came Hal. He whipped out his dagger and pointed it to the man’s nose. He jumped off. Doll ran forward and pulled you away, pulling you into a protective hug.

“Leave her be- you miscreant!”

The villain held up his hands and backed off slowly.

“Why, your little grace..what else have you to do with this woman? I was about to pay for her, like any other man here. Why do you act thus?”

The music paused and eyes turned. Amused and worried, as to what would happen next. Would a fight break out? Would there be more men who thought they could be your “customers?” You cowered further into Doll, clinging to her. Oh dear God, how bad this was getting!

Your heart raced. Hal glanced at you. You looked at Hal with wide eyes. He then unsheathed his dagger and looked at the man. Then Hal made his reply.

“Because she is my whore for tonight!”

The earth stopped turning. You could hear your fast heartbeat and your jaw dropped. Hal went up to you. With great strength, he pulled you from Doll’s arms to his. In a second, before you could process it, he sat down on the nearest surface and pulled you to his lap. You made a small gasp at the feeling. He wrapped an arm possessively around you.

Then he looked thunderously at the tavern. They were silent as he made a declaration. 

“I bought her company all this evening. Tonight, she is mine. And if any man here thinks they can dare touch what is mine, their head will be lobbed off under order of the Prince of Wales- is that clear!?”

He nodded his head, and the other wide-eyed men swallowed and took note.

Mistress Quickly scurried towards the musicians.

“Play! Play! Oh- give us a song! Something merry!” she insisted. 

They played and the tension relaxed. People went back to their drinking and their business. But you remained sitting on Hal. 

“Play along,” he whispered into your ear.

But sitting on his lap… It was making you…feel something. Something you couldn’t quite name. Your heart was beating even harder. Your body felt like it was with fever. And as for between your legs, it was stirring, something, something you had never felt before-and you wanted more of it. He was right there, beneath you. You felt his hands go around to your back.

Others were siting at Hal’s table. You both glanced to see whores with their customers- they were kissing. 

He eyed you and them. Then, he touched touched your chin. He asked.

“A kiss for me, my beauty?”

Enough so that no one would suspect anything. 

“I, uh-yes,” you replied.

 Then he pulled you in for a kiss. A deep, passionate kiss. Feeling his soft lips, the wine on his breath and tasting rich, like you could become drunk from him-his touch alone was making you feel intoxicated already. You tugged at him, and he kept a hand at your back to secure you. You sighed from it. Groaning from it. Then he released. His pupils were wide and both of you were catching your breaths. 

“Hal…”

You then gathered your skirt in your hands and looked down. What scared you was how much you liked touching him. How…how wonderful this felt. How…nice. Something between your legs was stirring. It was getting wet and you sensed it was not with urine or menstrual blood.

Hal then smiled at his companions at the table and raised a glass to them. 

“Y/N…my pretty whore…to the jewel of the Boar’s Head, Y/N-and a jewel she will be in my bed tonight.”

They cheered as they raised their cups. They had a deep drink. You were handed one and drank too.

“Yes-uh, yes, my lord, I will be-uh, very happy to pleasure you tonight,” you muttered in agreement, before having a sip.

He reached his hand down yours. Then he lifted up your hand to his lips and kissed you on your pulse, keeping a steady hold on it as he lowered.

Then they began to boast of how the wine caskets were being opened and how much they could drink in one go. Laughing, they ran over to sample it. 

Hal turned over to you. He had a half-smile

“My lady…your pulse is racing very fast…are you afraid of me?” he asked, though with a touch of cheekiness.

“No,” you answered. But you were afraid of how much you liked this. 

“It’s only when I touch you, is it?” you asked.

“Yes…yes it is…” you confessed breathlessly.

He made a small laugh and you could have sworn he was blushing. 

“It’s only your body reacting to me. It’s how God, how nature made us- nothing more… Can you continue the pretense? For a little bit?” he asked.

“Yes, Hal, I can,” you said.

He then slid you off of his lap to be on the seat next to him. Once when you thought you could cool your senses, he turned close to you, touching your leg as you were near and wrapping his other arm around you.

“Do you like the wine here, my lady?” he asked.

“I’ve…I’ve never had better, sweeter wine…I haven’t drank too much of it, have I?” you asked.

“If you’re still walking safely, then the answer is no, Y/N,” he replied. 

Then the music got to a gig. People got up, getting partners.

“Are they going to dance?” you asked.

“Yes, they are!” he confirmed.

“You took his hands, smiling and getting up.”

“Dance with me Hal- do you know how to?” you asked.

“Yes, yes I do!” he answered.

You led him over as couples gathered around. They managed to kick their steps in time and though he still had trouble with his feet, he was smiling- relaxed. Far more relaxed than he was at any court ball.

At one point you had to turn around. But all you could see was him. Your bodies moved so well together- almost in sync here. You could look at him and do the steps fluidly. Feeling his touch, looking into his eyes. He held your hand…something was different. He kept a hand to your back warm and splayed. It never felt this nice.

Then…it ended. And he was still holding your hand. Catching your breaths and looking into each other's eyes. Hesitantly, he let go.

“Did you like that, my lady?” he asked.

“I…I liked it. Very much.”

You wanted him. You wanted his touch. More of him. He placed you back on his lap as he sat down right next to a table. He nestled into your neck.

“I’ll tell them I’m taking you with me to the palace and then escort you home,” he whispered. 

“People are…are leaving more, now…” you commented. The crowds were thinning. The noise was calming down. 

“Why…it’s getting late…a tavern has two lives. The celebration and then the dimming, the seriousness, when all is dark and gloomy.”

“It’s still…it’s peaceful… I do like it Hal…”

His lips moved to speak and then froze. He touched your cheek tenderly.

“Y/N…” he muttered.

“What is it?”

His softened to you.

“You’re…you’re a beautiful woman…and…and a good woman, too…” he confessed breathily, earnestly. 

“I am your…your whore…” you said aloud, aware there were others. You nervously glanced around and then he held your chin back to face him. 

“Y/N, I don’t care what you are now. I just want you to kiss me again.”

You did, feeling him. His mouth. His touch. He pressed himself towards you- to keep you close again. You heard him sigh into it. Then lips releasing- yet it felt too soon. He whispered your name. His voice. And it was not pretense. 

“Sweetest of ladies…my dearest…”

Before you knew it, he laid you down on that table. Your breath was knocked out of you. You felt your back hit the wood. He crawled on top of you on the table. Your bare legs peeking from your skirt being hiked up from your position, he touched them, feeling your skin up and down. But his weight didn’t touch you and his hands feeling your thigh made you feel even dizzier. He laid another kiss on you. You couldn’t catch your breath. You couldn’t believe How…good all of this felt. And your folds were wetting already, and not with urine or menstrual blood. He kissed you again. His hips touched yours and you felt your legs go up in instinct. A truly whorelike moan escaped you. You never felt…like this before. This climb up, this ecstasy.

This…need. 

He let go of his lips. Then pulled off of you. But The cold air hit you like a shot. But it was still stirring inside of you. This desire…screaming, turning inside you.

You wanted him.

“I’m sorry- I was carried away,” he muttered. “Y/N…I’ll…I’ll stop,”

“No!” you hissed.

He paused, his eyes wide. You went to him and touched his face. You swallowed deeply.

“I…I didn’t want you to stop,” you confessed.

“What?” he mumbled, tilting his head.

The words flew out of you. You gathered yourself on his lap. Feeling your legs wide, the cool air against your soaking, throbbing arousal. You wanted it complete- you wanted him. You touched his face, speaking softly. 

“Hal…I don’t want you to stop…what…what is it like? When you lie with a woman? With a whore? How does it feel? I want to know Hal…I want to…I want you to…to do the act on me. Take me…you are my husband already they say…then show me what is it like to bed you. What will it be like to be your wife? Please Hal-they think I’m your whore anyway- so bed me. Tonight. Now. Show me what it is like…” you begged quietly.

His jaw dropped. He pulled you closer. Another hand wrapping around you close. His voice was husky and his eyes gentle.

"Y/N...tonight...You want me... and you trust me?” 

“Yes,” you answered.

You felt his breaths shudder. Then he took your hand. He downright pulled you to Mistress Quickley in a corner counting money.

"Is there a spare room?" he asked.

She pointed upstairs. 

"For you? The second one you see up there," she explained with a nod.

He paid her. Then, he took your hand and led you up. Your heart was racing, going right up. He opened the door and let you in.

It was a wooden room. Cozy with plenty of space. Humble chairs. A window with brown crossed latched. And a large bed with a feathered mattress and four posters right when you opened the door. Moonlight shone through the windows. There were a few lit candles. Enough to see, but enough it was dim, private, romantic. 

Hal, far too tall for the doorframe, ducked under it with a fluid ease.

“Now…at last, we can be alone…and at last…you will be mine in every way…” he husked.

He pushed the door shut as he kept looking into your eyes. Then He grabbed your face and he kissed you. Then he took his hands and put his hips to yours. It caused friction that made you gasp. It nudged a sensitive part of you and you shuddered.

"Is it locked? If...if someone walks in?" you muttered, remembering yourself.

"Will they disturb the Prince of Wales, now? I will send them away..." he whispered.

You felt his fingers going up from your sides, then to touch your waist, gripping it. 

"I have someone more important with me now," he said with a smile. 

He sat on the bed and pulled you to sit on his leg. You let out a small sound at the feeling. His hand went up your skirt, finding your thighs.

“Spread your legs my dear…let me help you…I will make you ready…” he whispered.

He bunched up your skirt, so you felt it gather around your hips. His hands opened your legs so that you felt his knee right against your bare folds.

The smooth leather of his pants hit against your most private area- wet and sensitive. You felt it…brush against him, the material of his pants. You let out a gasp. So sensitive- stimulated. But you wanted more. 

“Do you like this feeling?” he asked.

You nodded. He guided your hips. It moved back, and then forth- making friction and a chill ran against you. You let out a small gasp.

“H-Hal! That…that feels…feels so good…”

He moved your hips to grind against his thigh.

“There….now darling…ride it like a horse-there,” he said.

He guided your hips to grind against his leg. You placed your hands over his broad, strong shoulders. It was pulling you close. The tension- it was making you gasp. Sounds coming out of you that you never thought you could make-touching him. Even with his codpiece on, you could tell something was stirring inside him too. He gave you another kiss as you rode his leg. Then his hands went over to your blouse. He touched your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Are you alright, my lady?” he asked with a smug smile.

You let out a moan as an answer. He grabbed you. He kissed you more as if he was drunk and you were ale. Still clothed entirely and already a mess for each other. His voice low, he said into your ear.

"When I join with you, I'm going to make you cry out louder with pleasure than any whore here ever did. And they will know who gives this to you- your lord. And when I'm inside you, there will be more blessings between your legs than any church could give me…”

He kissed you again. His hand moved up to cup your breasts. He moved them around, feeling them. He moved, a finger playing with the string tie that held it together- your shift beneath he began to unlace the strings of your bodice. You paused, the cool air of your chest as it was lowering for him.

“I didn’t say you could stop…keep going. I’m going to undress you slowly- I want to enjoy every inch of you revealed to me…” he ordered.

You kept grinding.

Your blouse was loose, showing your shoulders. He pressed a kiss onto them that made you sigh out another little groan.

His hands greedily remove your garments. He took off your belt,. The little fingerless gloves joined it’s pile. Then finally his hands went to the collar of your dress and shift, already loose. He pulled your dress over your head. Then, in only your shift, he tugged it down until it pooled over your hips. Your bare breasts and stomach before him. You felt his eyes see you, all of you. You chilled from the cold. But he only smiled. He wrapped both arms around your waist and cupped your cheek. He looked down-seeing your breasts rising with your excited breaths. He licked his lips at Your stomach and Your hips. 

“Beautiful…just beautiful…how lucky I am to enjoy you for all of my life now,” he said.

Then he kissed you at the nape between your neck amd shoulder. You sighed into it.

"H-Hal..." you voiced out. 

You held onto him.

“What are you thinking, my love?” he asked.

“That…this duty feels…feels nice…That I…I’m going to be your wife and…I should…perform my duty to you…” you voiced out. 

He put his hands on your hips and stopped your grinding. Then he took and you half threw you on the bed. He went over to you getting on top of you. You felt his fingers then reach one digit to your folds. You let out a small cry. 

"You should know of passion, not duty, in our bed. You should know the ecstasy I can give you every night from now on. would you like that?” he asked.

"Y-Yes...my lord, yes Hal.."

You gasped feeling it. He removed his fingers, slick with your juices. He began to undo his jacket- your wetness grazing the leather and making a small stain. Then removed his black shirt. He went up to you. 

He took your hand. He traced the wrist gently with his finger. Then he kissed it. 

"There is my little sweetling...such a good little wife she will be…doing everything for her husband…and she will be rewarded…”

 You got him, your nails digging into his warm back. He slid a finger back into you. He got it out, then back in. You clutched onto him- feeling him against the lips between your legs as he swirled around. You ground against it, finding even more pleasure.

"Oh...oh Lord....Hal…your fingers are so…so-!”

"Do you like that, my sweet lady, do you enjoy being ruined this way?"

"Yes...yes...more, Hal- I want more!"

“Sweet little bird…so eager, so willing. Willing to please- to let me corrupt her. What would those nuns think of you now, hm? What would they know of what we have here, now?  I will enjoy having you- and I will have you every night. How does that sound for Duty, hm?”

He kissed and slid a tongue over yours. He slid another finger, pumping in and out.  Your legs had to widen to accommodate him. You made so many noises. 

You felt so hot, you felt his weight, shifting on top of you. To kiss you. To adore you. His snaking body grinding against you-he kissed you like you were food. His need. His ache. His hair fell softly through him. He cupped your cheeks and kept kissing you again.He groaned as he kissed

He let go with a smirk on his face. You felt something bubbling inside you- going up.

"I should have…should have taken you on the table...before all of them to watch-"

“Better late than never,” you breathed out, both of you melting into small laughter. 

But right before it climbed too high up, he removed his fingers, slick with you. You took his body in. His beautiful, lean body. How soft yet strong he was. So many muscles in just his arm alone. His chest- how beautiful it was. How…broad he was, too. And not just his chest that felt large. 

He removed his codpiece and slid off his pants easily. Your eyes went down to that cock-hard and eager and huge. Twitching. You had to swallow a moan from it-how was it going to fit in you? He then slid you down the bed-and he remained standing.

“Yes- look at me, darling. It might hurt a little, sweet wife. I will be slow,” you voiced.

But you were so eager-so desperate-you had to be with him. How warm he felt now- skin against skin. He kissed you once more time, his hips teasing what was to come.  Yet he was still remaining standing.

"Here...are you ready, my dear?”

“Yes, yes I am! My lord, please! Please take me!”

You felt his cock teasing against your entrance. He began to graze his hands up and down your thigh. touching up and down them. He looked at your pussy and smiled. Then, positioning your legs already to be between his head. He began to trust in you by sinking in. Inch by agonizing inch, he slowly vanished in.  

You let out a cry-a whimper. You had never been filled like this.

“ Oh my god-Hal!”

He groaned, easing him last bit of his cock inside you. The slight pain then began to melt.

“Do you want me to stop?”

The pain was gone-fizzled to pleasure. You were…getting used to him.

“No…no…please…please keep going. Please-”

He backed and then thrust.

“Oh! Oh- yes-yes, Hal-please.”

The began- thrusting slowly inside you. Still standing and you laying down. His hips rocked back. Creating such friction, such heat, like none you have felt. He was groaning hard. Each thrust was better than the last one.  

All you could say was a prayer. Simply repeating “please-yes-oh, oh my god-please, Hal, please-yes, there, Hal-”

You were used to it, then he increased the pace. He hissed out your name. He held you still so you had to take all of him- not that you would complain.  You felt your voice rising. All you saw was him, felt was him. He was nailing you-he was keeping you right into the end of the bed as he stood. So deep and full were his penetrations. Then his hand slid.

“Ah- yes-Here..my little rose has a rosebud inside her-” he said.

He found your nub, and then began to strum it with his thrusts. Even more pleasure whirled in you- it felt even better.

"Oh! Oh-gods! Hal! Yes! Yes-please-Yes! There!”

"Yes-cry my name, tell all of Boars-nrgh-all of Boar's Head-nrsh-who your lord is..."

Flesh slapped against flesh as he increased his pace. You weren’t sure now- you slide back and forth, whimpering with pleasure. 

“You-are-mine-now-nrgh-Gods and-Fuck-yes your lord-yes-gives you-gods-yes,this-fuck-your lord always-always satisfies you-”

His pace increased. He was grunting, moaning. You now understood why the noises came from those rooms-you were making them yourself. He pounded and pounded you into the bed.

“Hal…Hal-something-something in me-it’s…it’s going up…” you whimpered.

He kept strumming you.

“You’re close-close my dear-it’s going to overwhelm you- yes- it’s-it’s me too- give into it-give into it- cry ou t- let it happen-yes-fuck-yes-yes-yes, now, my dear- come now- come now!”

Then finally, you felt it-pleasure bursting, overwhelming you. It hit you so suddenly, so hard, you let out a shout that echoed.  You cried out-

“Yes-Hal-Hal!”

With a groan and a thrust, brought on by your own brink, he came. You felt him pump inside you. It was probably lucky to have the wedding in two months- if a child came from this, none but you would know. 

He paused, collapsing down onto you. Only to hold you, nestling you close.

“Hal…I…I have no words…” you whispered.

“You cannot ask to break this betrothal…not after what we’ve shared…” he breathed. He then went up to see your face. “Please, Y/N…I…I…”

“I love you too, Hal,” you replied.

He smiled, kissing you. A deep breath of relief through him. He positioned himself there on the bed, holding you for only a bit. 

“We…we will have to get home soon…we…we will get in trouble…” you said.

“What sweet trouble it was….but I will see you home safe…” he replied.

 He redressed you and you helped redressed him. When it seemed the tavern was asleep without witnesses about the main room, he held your hand and led you back to his horse outside. Eagerly you both galloped, but you laughed as the wind tickled you. You found riding so close to him comfortable now and leaned back against him. An embrace as each landing of the steed’s hooves brought you closer. Then you were brought back home.

He was there at the entrance, knowing the servants would escort you to separate rooms, separate beds. He took your hand and then kissed it. A goodnight promise.

“Sleep well, my lady, he wished.

“Shall I see you tomorrow?” you asked.

“Every day,” he replied with a smile that matched yours.