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absurdthirst · 8 hours

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The Empress and the Gladiator {Gladiator!Pero x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.2k

Warnings: Fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), loss of virginity, star crossed lovers, mentions of war/death, vaginal sex, mentions of sex workers, rough sex, blood/gore, death, animal cruelty, gladiatorial games, pregnancy

Comments: Destined to become Empress of Rome, your heart has always been Pero Tovar's. When your father decides to host an gladiatorial tournament with your hand in marriage as the prize, Pero becomes the gladiator you are rooting for in the colessum.

A/N: With Gladiator 2 coming out this year, thots turned to Rome. While reader is Empress, no physicality has been described other than 'Roman'.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Pay attention.” Your tutor, Maximus, tuts as you stare out of the doorway to the courtyard. Your scrolls are messy on your table and the breeze through your hair makes you long to be outside and not studying the gods. You hear the clashing of swords and watch as Pero Tovar fights his mentor, a man named Julius, while his mother tends to your needs. His mother is your matron, taking care of your needs like your own mother would if she were still alive. After her untimely death when you were born, your father had brought in a matron while he searched for another wife. He’s had two more since your mother’s death but he claims to be cursed as both women also lost their lives during birth…and their babies. The sole child of the Emperor of Rome, you are in line to be Empress. Something that has never happened. The man you marry shall be by your side and your father had petitioned the senate to allow you to rule, for him to mold you into the perfect leader for the next generation. The senate had agreed and now, you spend your days learning about Seneca and Cicero instead of painting or strolling the gardens. You have been taught to read, you know the laws of the empire, and you have been trained in all manner of war. You are preparing to become Empress of Rome. You just need a husband. Turning your eyes away from Pero, you look back at your scrolls and continue your lesson. Little do you know that Pero is also watching you. His mother, bless her soul, was widowed by his father who fought for the empire. He lost his life in battle and the Emperor let his mother stay in the palace with her son to tend to his newborn daughter. Pero knows he will be sent to train with the army soon. He will fight as his father once did. However, he will be leaving his heart in the palace with you.

****

You walk through the gardens after your lesson, Pero long gone from the courtyard, and you are caressing a flower when you hear your name. “Why are you here alone?” Pero asks, his voice gruff and demanding, “you should not be outside without an escort.”

You huff and roll your eyes, aware of and annoyed by the fact that if you were a man no one would even question you walking alone. “I am in my own courtyard.” You turn to look at the older Spanish boy. Even if you have grown up together, he has filled out with muscle and grown taller over the past few years. “I am the future Empress and I can go and do whatever I wish.” You straighten your spine even though you know your father would not approve of being alone. Too many of his enemies would seek to use you for their own gain. You frown and look around, all the servants out of sight and no one nearby to hear you. “Why are you here, Pero?”

Pero stares at you for a moment, the moonlight reflecting on your face, and he can't help but be reminded of how beautiful you are. When your face is carved from marble and the coins are gold with your profile, he will be one of many to admire your beauty. Your moxie makes him bite his lip to smother a smile and he waits until your eyes fix on him. "I am taking a stroll. Getting some fresh air and admiring the grounds before I have to leave." He sighs, looking down at the grass beneath his feet.

“That’s right, you are leaving……” you frown at the reminder that tomorrow morning he will be leaving for the war that is being fought near Constantinople. You have spent all of your formative years around the man who you have come to view as more than a mere childhood friend. You’ve never seen him as a brother and now your heart quickens at his nearness. “Tonight is your last night in Rome,” you venture softly. “You should make the most of it. Most men would be visiting the taverns, or the whorehouses that I am supposed to pretend don’t exist.” His head shoots up, eyes wide and you smirk. “Or do you prefer the company of the men in the bathhouses?”

Pero raises his eyebrows and he offers you a wry smile, “don’t you know it all, emperatriz?” He chuckles and you snort, “I even know about Hispania.” Pero is impressed by your knowledge of the reality outside of the marble walls you wander in. It will serve you well. “To answer your question, I wish to spend my last night here since I will not be able to return. My barracks will be my new home and I will miss this palace…and you.” He confesses, his dark eyes meeting yours, “I have no need for wine or for women when what I truly want is right in front of me.”

Pero is handsome, his dark eyes seemingly even darker with the same emotion that makes your core throb and turn slick with need. You aren’t unaware of what happens between men and women, even if you are untouched. Untouched beyond your own fingers between your thighs when you lay in the dark, listening to the rustle of the wind against the curtains of your bed. “Pero….” You step closer to him, biting your lip as you inhale deeply, aware your father would have you beaten and Pero executed, but you don’t care. He could die, never to return, and you don’t want to live the rest of your life without knowing what it is like to be touched by him. “Tonight, the future empress will entertain you.” You decide, telling him boldly. “In ten minutes, climb to my balcony.”

Pero’s cock twitches under his tunic and he bows his head, “I will be in your service tonight, empress.” He murmurs, knowing he could be hung for this but it’s worth it. You are worth it. No longer the little girl who used to annoy him when he wanted to play gladiator with his friends, he wants the beautiful woman you’ve become. The oils you bathe in hit his nose and he swallows, taking a step back from you. He looks around to make sure no one saw him speaking to you alone and he strides off, knowing that you will be able to make it back to your quarters alone.

The slap of your sandals accompanies the rustle of your skirts as you hurry along the columned corridor to your quarters. Servants rush to bow, but you pay them no mind as your excitement has you eager to lock yourself into your room. Bursting through the door startles your servant, Corda. “My gods!” She huffs and you shake your head. “Fetch me a tray and wine, then you are dismissed.” You instruct her, making her jaw drop. “But-“ “No buts, Corda!” You hiss, taking a breath and smiling at her to not make her suspicious. “I know you wish to spend one last night with Gavros.” You hum, smirking slightly at her guilty expression. “Fetch my food and drink and then go enjoy yourself.” Her lover is also in the group that Pero will be accompanying to the war.

She bows her head and turns, making her way out of your quarters to fetch your tray and wine. She returns a few minutes later and sets the tray down. “Good night, my lady.” She murmurs, turning and shutting the doors behind her. The gauzy drapes are flowing onto the balcony as Pero climbs the trellis to swing his leg onto the balcony. He grunts as he stumbles but recovers to stand outside of your room. “emperatriz.” He whispers, hoping no one is in your quarters.

“Pero?” You look through the sheer fabric to see him hovering outside and push them aside to usher him in. “Come in.” You command, hoping no one saw him climb up. You don’t wish for the night to be disrupted and you know that if Corda is off gallivanting, no one should come to disturb you. Everyone is celebrating the troops leaving and you are happy that your father is busy as well. He steps inside your room and the curtain falls into place, giving you the illusion of blocking out the world. “You came.”

Pero offers you a soft smile, his hands suddenly damp. “Of course, hermosa. How could I not?” He asks you, “I am leaving tomorrow and if I don’t return, I want you to know…I want you to know that I would kneel before you as my Empress, as your loyal soldier, as your friend, and if you’ll have me, as your lover.” He murmurs, not touching you. You are pure and he could be killed for even being in your quarters.

Your body trembles at his confession, knowing that you feel the same way. He can be coarse and cross at times, but you love him. Reaching up to your shoulder, you unhook the gold leaf brooch that keeps your dress on your body. Letting it fall to the floor so you stand in front of him, completely naked. “Take off your tunic, Pero.” You command, lifting your chin. “I wish to inspect my soldier.”

His eyes widen at the beauty before him. Your body bare and his mouth is dry, his cock hardening as he takes in a sight that most mortals will never bear witness to. He kicks off his sandals and reaches for the hem of his tunic, pulling it over his head to display his naked body to your hungry eyes. He stands straight, arms by his side as he awaits your inspection.

You inhale sharply, taking in the hard planes and chiseled lines of his body. The rigorous training has taken the boy's soft body and turned it into the hard sculpture of a soldier, your warrior. He has given you the power and it emboldens you to step forward, reaching out and stroking the smooth muscle of his chest. Biting your lip when you feel it move under your hand and let it drop down to brush against the thick length that juts out proudly from his groin.

Pero groans under his breath, his eyes closing as he lets you touch him how you please. He stands still, not lifting his hands to touch you. You are in charge tonight, his soon to be Empress. You will have what you want because tomorrow, he will leave and this night will be a memory he cannot share with anyone.

“Beautiful.” You murmur quietly, looking into his eyes. “This is for me.” You don’t ask, because you know that it is. Your fingers wrap around his cock and you marvel at how hard and soft he feels in your hand. “How long have you thought of me?” You ask. “Do you think of me when you visit the whorehouses? When you sink into a woman?”

"Yes." He doesn't bother lying. After tonight, you will be betrothed to another and he will likely be killed in battle. He has tonight so he will give you everything, all he has to offer. "Every time." He confesses, knowing that he paid those women to be faceless, imagining you in their place. You jerk him and he groans, letting you touch him as you please and he prays to the gods that he holds off long enough to give you pleasure.

You moan softly, loving how he responds to your touch. His confession of thinking of you while fucking making your cunt drip. “When I slide my fingers into my cunt, I think of you.” You confess. “How you would feel, how you would taste.” You squeeze him slightly as he groans your name. “How you would touch me. You know of such things, you have touched women before. Can you make my body shake in pleasure?”

He nods, throat tightening with arousal as you squeeze him again. "I can make my Empress shake in pleasure until she can take no more." He assures you, "I have learned well from the brothels. I want to show you, emperatriz."

“I am supposed to be pure, to stay pure, until I take a husband.” You remind him. “But I will not be pure.” You let go of his cock and step back. “Because I will have given my purity to my love. The one who holds my heart.” You reveal softly.

His heart pounds in his chest and he reaches for you, grabbing your waist, and he leans in to press his lips to yours. He doesn’t want to hold back knowing he could die and never know your touch. He tilts your head to kiss you, sliding his tongue into your mouth, and he backs you towards your bed.

Now that his hands are on you, he is in complete control. You moan, reaching up and twisting your finger into the short hair at the base of his skull. You can’t do much with it, but you tug gently, wishing it was longer. “Pero…” you whimper when he breaks away from his lips to kiss down your throat. “Pero, please, make me yours for tonight.”

He grabs the back of your thighs, lifting you up to carry you onto the bed. He lays you down, the silk sheets beneath you and he hovers above you, taking you in. You’re gorgeous. Aphrodite incarnate. He leans down to kiss along your throat, his hand caressing your thigh as he settles between your legs.

You should feel exposed, vulnerable, but you feel nothing but the heat of his gaze. Again, your hands slide along his skin and you map the muscles. Knowing that tonight will be a memory that you will cherish forever, keeping it locked away in your heart. “You are so….sexy.”

Pero slides his hand along your thigh up to your breast and he tilts his head so he can dip down and take your nipple into his mouth. Your words make his cock twitch and his stomach clench, knowing you find him attractive. He loves it. He loves you. Your back arches into his mouth and he bites down on your nipple, soothing the sting with his tongue.

“Pero!” Your eyes close and your back arches up from the bed to his mouth. Every pull of his mouth shoots straight to your cunt and makes it clenches. “Oh gods.” Your leg lifts and you rub the back of your foot against his leg, enjoying the roughness of his hair.

He switches to your other breast, loving the way you cry out his name. “Shush, my love. The guards will hear you.” He warns you, pulling back from your breast and he presses kisses along your stomach, settling between your thighs. Your cunt, covered by curls, has him groaning your name. You smell like the oils you use and something tangy that has him moaning as he wastes no time surging forward to slide his tongue through your folds.

Your gasp is loud, catching your breath and making your breast shake. Your hands grip the sheets and you can’t believe that he is going this. You’ve heard about the pleasure to be had, but you’ve never thought that it would happen for you.

He flicks his tongue over your clit just as the whores had taught him. He sucks your clit into his mouth, his hands caressing your thighs and he groans at the tangy taste of your arousal. You taste like honey. He pushes your thighs further apart and slides his tongue down to push it inside of you.

“Oh fuck.” You moan, clenching your jaw before you have to lift your head and look down at him between your thighs. You had expected him to just take you, but he was surprisingly good at giving pleasure. “You should just stay and spend all day doing this to me.” You moan out the praise as your hips jerk up to meet his eager tongue.

Pero lifts his head from your cunt, his chin glistening as he smirks, “I would spend every day worshiping you if it were possible, mi emperatriz.” He assures you, sliding his tongue through your folds again and he sucks on your clit. His hand slides along your thigh until he’s pushing two fingers slowly inside of you.

His fingers are thick, so much thicker than your own. Making you whimper out his name again, drowning in the pleasure that he pulls from you as he presses them deep. “Yes.” You sigh. “I love you, Pero.”

He loves hearing you say that. His fingers stretch you out for his cock. He pumps them a little faster and leans in to take your clit into his mouth, sucking. He wants you to fall apart for him, to tell him you love him enough times to last him a lifetime because that’s what he will need.

You know that it’s wrong for you to give yourself to Pero. You should have saved it for the man who would become your husband, the man who would help you rule Rome after your father dies. You don’t care, your heart belongs to Pero and you want to give him a part of yourself you can never have back. You chant the words of love over and over as he works you up, until your entire body bucks with broken cry. Your cunt bearing down on his fingers and soaking them with your pleasure.

He loves the way you soak his fingers. Working you through it, he groans into your wet flesh. His cock is hard against the sleeping mat beneath you, and he is aching to be inside of you. He groans your name and kisses back up your body until his lips find yours and he slides his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself.

The taste of your cunt on his lips has you moaning, enjoying the flavors mixed tongue and you want to taste him too. “Pero-“ you whimper, making him pull away to look at you as if he wonders if you have changed your mind. “Can I do that to you? Suck your cock?” You’ve heard the servants talk about it, even watched as it happened in the shadows, but you’ve never done it.

Pero's cock twitches at the thought but he can't imagine defiling you like that. Just to touch you like this is enough for him to be killed and his soul to be damned by Pluto. "I am yours for whatever you wish, mi amor, but I must warn you that you cannot do too much otherwise this will be over far too soon." He has wanted you for so long, watched you from afar, and the thought of you touching him in that way already has his stomach clenching.

You push him onto his back as you decide to take his pleasure into your hands. “You will tell me before you find your release.” You say it like it is a forgone conclusion and lean forward to press your lips to his. Then breaking away to kiss down his chest, eager to see how he reacts to your mouth on him. If you only have tonight, you want to gorge yourself on him.

His breath catches in his chest and he watches you make your way to his cock, wrapping your fingers around it and he loves the lust in your eyes. He loves how much you want him. "Fuck." He hisses when you pump his length, the foreskin pulled down to reveal the leaking head.

You preen under his rough praise, feeling the way he twitches and pulses in your hand and against your tongue. It’s thrilling to learn that he enjoys this and you open your mouth wider to take more of his length down your throat.

You moan around him and he twitches in your mouth, loving how you feel surrounding him. You feel incredible. “Fuck, hermosa.” He grunts as you explore his cock with your mouth and tongue.

Giggling slightly, you pull off of him and decide to lick him. Making him groan again. “You must love this, all the noise you are making.” You know that he can be as loud as he wants, no one is in this wing of your home beside you. You tease him and then lick him again. “Tell me what you have imagined while a whore’s mouth is on your cock.”

Pero can’t believe how naughty you are for an innocent woman. “I imagined - imagined this. You. Your mouth wrapped around my cock. My cock inside of you. You. I wanted you while I was giving them my cock, my coin.” He confesses breathlessly as you jerk his cock.

You hum, feeling slightly jealous of them, even if you cannot have a claim in this man. He is free to do whatever he wants, with whomever. Now, you just enjoy the fact that he wants to be yours. “You have me, Spaniard.” You promise, ducking your head down to take him back into your mouth.

He loves hearing you claim he has you when both of you know you only have tonight. He groans when you take him deeper and his stomach clenches. “Hermosa. You can’t - I don’t want this to end too soon.” He chokes, not wanting to finish without making you clench down on his cock.

Reluctantly, you let go of him and kiss back up his body. “You will stay the night, yes? We can do that again after?” You know men can find pleasure more than once and you hope that he is also like those fools who like to brag about being able to rut all night.

He nods, "I will stay there night then I will go before sunrise. We cannot risk getting caught." He promises and pulls you up so he can kiss you, rolling you onto your back. "Are you certain?" He asks softly, nudging his nose with yours after he pulls back from the kiss, his cock pressing against your thigh.

“I have never been more certain of anything else.” You promise. “Not the gods or the Senate could make me change my mind.” Your hand caresses his cheek, the thin strip of a beard of his face slightly patchy with youth. “I love you, Pero. Tonight, make me a woman.”

He doesn't deny you. He can't deny you even if he tried. He reaches between you to grip his cock, pulling back his foreskin to slide the head through your folds until he is positioning his cock at your entrance. He watches you as he starts to push inside of you.

You expected pain and you expected nothing. You really didn’t know what to expect but the feeling of him filling you up is exquisite. Your mouth drops open as you moan his name again, your legs pulling back to take him deeper into your body and you know that you are forever changed.

Pero feels your innocence break and he pushes into you fully, making you his in a way no other will have you. He groans and leans in to kiss along your neck, taking a moment to let you adjust and he murmurs, "I love you."

You whine and wrap your arms around his neck. Closing your eyes and sighing softly. A piece of you is forever his and you know that your heart is his until eternity as well. You might marry for your position and have children, but your heart will be this Spaniard’s. “I love you, Pero.” You promise him. “Forever.”

Your promise makes his heart clench as he starts to move inside of you. He's in no rush. Not rutting into you like he would a whore he paid his coin to. He moves slowly, watching your face as you take him. You close your eyes as he adjusts the angle of his hips and he grunts when your walls clench around him. "Mi emperatriz hermosa." He murmurs as he kisses along your neck.

You know that he is being slow with you and it’s amazing. Making you feel every ridge and vein in his cock as they scrub along your sensitive walls. It’s love making in the purest form and you don’t want to let him go. Another soldier can go fight for the Emperor and Rome. Even if you know Pero would never agree to that, finding it to be cowardice. You have tonight. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you moan his name again. “Pero.”

Pero doesn't want to leave but he has no choice. He has no future here in the palace. He must leave and forge his own path. He has to accomplish something outside of these walls. He must fight for Rome and for the Emperor and one day, he will be fighting for you. His hand finds your thigh, lifting it higher so he can sink deeper and his lips find yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth.

Your moan is breathed into him, encouraging him. Letting him know that he is making you feel incredible. Your nails scratch down his back, not hard enough to break skin, but you wish to leave your mark on him. “Pero, gods, you- you are amazing. I have loved you for so long. Watched you fight in the courtyard and touched myself thinking of how you would touch me.”

Your words make him twitch inside of you and he groans your name, “always pumped my cock thinking of you. Fucked whores with you on my mind. You have my heart and I shall be leaving it here with you forever.” He promises, “you’ll have it until Pluto takes me.” He slides his hand between you, wanting to hear you cum one more time.

He is talented and you are lucky that he has been taught ways to please you. Making you moan again when he starts to rub the flesh above your cunt. “You take my heart with you to war.” You promise him. “It is yours, even if my body must be someone else’s, you had me first and you hold my heart always.”

Pero groans, rubbing your clit a little faster desperate to push you over the edge before he finishes. It’s overwhelming being inside of you and knowing that he will have to leave tomorrow, he is desperate to hear you cry out his name. “I’m yours, hermosa. I need to feel you.” He begs against your jaw as he presses desperate kisses there.

His words make your entire body tremble. You know your core is wound tight and the next time he plunges deep into your body, you shatter. Crying out loudly, your walls squeeze him tight and the liquid hot pleasure washes through you.

“Fuck.” He hisses as you clench down around his cock. He groans your name and tries to fuck you through it but he has held off long enough. It doesn’t take long, only a half dozen more thrusts, until he is pushing deep inside of you and filling you with his hot seed.

You close your eyes, memorizing how it feels and for a brief moment, you wish that you could have him stay and fill you up everyday until his seed takes root. Knowing that a child from Pero would be your favorite, even if he was a bastard. “Perfection.”

Pero kisses you, unwilling to move even as he softens inside of you. He murmurs your name and kisses you softly, caressing your thigh as you keep your legs wrapped around him. His heart aches knowing that this is the only time he will have you like this.

You catch your breath in the silence that lingers between you, both of you lost in your thoughts as you continue to stroke his back. “No wonder people love to take lovers.” You manage after a long moment. “If it is half as good as this, I know why the soldiers immediately go to the whore houses.”

Pero chuckles, “it isn’t as good as this because this is love making. The whorehouse’s are for fucking. This is love between us.” He knows that any man listening would hang him by his balls for being so soft but this is you and it’s your only night together. He won’t deny you how he feels when he won’t get to say it ever again.

“Oh.” You melt at how intimate it is, how romantic. It is like one of the great stories that is sometimes performed for the people. “We will never have this again, will we?” You ask practically, knowing that you could never love someone as much as you love Pero. You reach up and run your fingers through his hair. “At least we got to have each other tonight. Tomorrow you leave to fight for the glory of Rome and her Emperor.”

“And her empress.” He adds, nudging his nose against yours. He pulls out of you, groaning as he shifts to lay beside you before he pulls you into his chest and murmurs your name, “you will always have my heart. I will fight for Rome and for your glory.” He promises.

“Fight and live.” You urge him. “I hate the ‘die for the glory of Rome’ shit. I would rather you live. Live until you are an old man, gray in your hair.” You caress his chest and press a kiss to where his heart thumps in his chest.

Pero smiles, knowing it's unlikely he would grow old and even less likely he would grow old with you. He sighs and kisses your hair, "get some rest, amor. We have the night to enjoy before I must leave."

True to his word, Pero had taken you, again and again during the night. Rest only coming in small spurts before one of you was reaching for the other. On and on until your entire body aches with a secret hurt when the darkest part of the night passes and the faintest pink hue starts to gather on the horizon. The wine has been drunk, the food consumed and the water that is always available for you to clean yourself is dirty. Your eyes are gritty with sorrow and exhaustion as you watch your lover’s naked body begin to be covered back up as he dons his clothes.

Pero redresses while you watch him and he kneels on the bed when he's ready to go. He leans down to cup your cheek, leaning in to kiss you deeply. "Be happy, mi emperatriz. Don't wait for me. Find your happiness however you can." He urges, knowing he could never be with you. Your father would forbid it. "I love you. Siempre." He vows and nudges his nose against yours, kissing your forehead before he stands up straight and walks over to the doorway to leave your quarters. He looks back at you one last time before he sneaks out of your chambers, unaware that his mother is watching from the shadows.

Your eyes close on bitter tears after the door closes behind him, burying your face in the sheets you had shared with him. The scent of his body still lingers and you weep for the love that you know you will never be allowed to share with Rome.

Señora Tovar prepares your tray and carries it into your rooms, finding the silk sheets rumpled, two empty goblets and an empty food tray. There's no denying what happened here last night and she is glad she has prepared a tea. "Good morning." She declares as she walks into your room. She had dismissed Corda to prepare your tray herself.

You pull yourself out of the sheets at the sound of your lover’s mother, biting your lip to keep from crying even more. “Good morning.” You manage to mumble, your voice cracking slightly.

She comes over to you, setting your tray down on the bed. "I have prepared a tea for you, chiquita. We know you cannot afford for my son's seed to take." She speaks bluntly, "you must drink this and your secret will remain between us." She doesn't want to witness her potential grandchild be shunned by society. She wants the best for her son and her family, she needs to protect you as well.

Your mouth drops open in shock as you stare at her. “I- you- you know?” You ask, practically gasping the question and she chuckles softly as she shakes her head. “It was not hard to guess when I see my son sneaking out of your room looking like a man who has visited paradise and been banished.” She tells you. “He has been in love with you since you were children playing together and I know those feelings have never wavered.” You bite your lip, chin trembling. “I love him, too, mamá.” You have called her mama - like Pero - since you were young. She had been like a mother to you, but Pero was never your brother, even from a young age, your heart skipped a beat when he was near.

She reaches out to caress your cheek, "I know, amor. I know you do. He loves you too. You are meant to be together in another lifetime. Your souls will meet in another time. You cannot pursue him. It will mean his death. Let him go and keep last night in your memory, mija." She cups your cheek and offers you a soft smile, "now...drink the tea. It will ensure you aren't with child."

You don’t want to drink it, wanting for a moment to let his seed take root and defy everyone. Looking into her eyes, you sigh softly and pick up the tea. “I would carry his bastard proudly if he wouldn’t suffer for it.” You tell her before you take a sip. “I hope he comes home. Even if it can’t be to me.”

She sighs, watching you drink it. "I know, amor. You would both suffer. You know your father would never allow it. He would have Pero killed." She closes her eyes for a moment, "one day...you'll be married with a baby at your breast and you'll remember last night but you'll be happy and Pero...he will be shrouded in the glory of Rome." She hums, "you'll meet again and when you do, you'll be different people."

You know that you will not settle. You will have a man who makes you feel as Pero does or you will not take him as a husband. “Yes we will.” You hum sadly. “He will be a general of Rome and I will be her Empress.”

*****

"You cannot continue this juvenile resistance." Your father scoffs while you sit at the dining table, servants carrying food and wine to you but you reject the food and take the wine. "I do not wish to marry a man I do not love. Do you wish for me to be unhappy?" You hiss back and your father clenches his jaw.

"You have been a maiden for years. You should have married years ago and I am too soft. I allowed you to take your time, let you find a husband within our circles but you refuse. In the senate today, we discussed a way to ensure that the empress will have a suitable husband by her side. A tournament. I wish to have every eligible man fight for your hand in an arena."

You snort and roll your eyes. “Noble men would rather lavish their days away in the baths than fight, father.” You remind him, taking a sip of your wine. “Rome grows weak and yet you think I should marry one of them? What will they be fighting at? Who can belch the loudest?” You have had excuse after excuse to not marry, waiting for word from Pero as he is off fighting, but the years have passed and your father’s patience has given way to pressure from the senate.

"Not noble men. You need a warrior by your side. Someone who can assist you with battle strategy. You have not fought for our empire and you do not have the experience for war. You need a man beside you who can advise. You need a gladiator. I have requested the warriors of Rome to compete for your hand." He declares, "the General is particularly interested in your hand."

You grimace slightly but your father doesn’t see that. The general spends more time in Rome carousing than he does with his men in battle. You find him to be rude and demeaning, although you can never find someone nearby when he acts out. “Warriors.” You think of the warrior you would want and then look to your father. “Will all warriors be allowed, or only those you choose and rig the tournament with?”

Your father snorts, "I want a man who is battle worn and worthy of your hand. Any man can compete but it will be in the Colosseum and they will fight to the death. The hand of the future Empress is worth a man's life. He must die if he fails and you, my dear, will have the strongest warrior to be your husband, your partner after Pluto takes me."

Your brow raises at the news that it will be a fight to the death and you hum again, sipping your wine. “Sport will be had and a maiden won.” You snort, secretly pleased that you are not the maiden you pretend to be. “The crowds will love you for this, father.”

Your father hums, a smug smile on his face, "they will, won't there? We will send word to all that the best can compete for the hand of the most beautiful woman in Rome. The future Empress. May the best man win." He smirks, picking up his goblet.

****

Rome has changed since he has last been here. Pero frowns as he shuffles off the horse and groans slightly as he stands straight. He thinks of you, just he does every day and his eyes slide towards the palace where you would still be. “We got here just in time!” His friend, Octavious, slaps him on the back. “There is a tournament that will be held.” The barracks are rife with the news, every man boasting that he will enter. “The winner becomes the husband of our future Empress!”

Pero doesn't allow himself to react but he takes the scroll from his friend and reads the details. A tournament at the Colosseum - a fight to the death for the hand of the Empress. His jaw clenches and the scroll is ripped from his hand. His mother still resides in the palace caring for you. He will go see her now that he has returned and maybe he can see you. He situates his horse and makes his way through the bustling streets until he is at the palace gates. He grunts his name and he is walking through the gates to find his mother in her rooms. "Mi amor, you're home." She cries when she sees him, rushing to wrap her arms around him and he pulls her closer, holding her tight. He hasn't seen his mother in so many years and he's changed. So has she, she has gotten older but no less beautiful. "You're home." She grins, pulling back to cup his cheeks. "Mijo." She leans in to kiss his cheeks.

"Where is she?" He asks, "I heard about the tournament." He says and she sighs, "yes. She is not happy. This has been the talk of Rome. It will not begin for a while to allow warriors to return to Rome to fight." She reveals, "she is in her rooms."

Pero nods, kissing his mother's forehead. "I will be back, mama." He promises, knowing he needs to see you after being gone for too long. He remembers how to sneak to your rooms without being noticed and he's soon knocking on the door, heart pounding in his chest from seeing you for the first time in so long.

You sigh to yourself, almost ignoring the knock on the door. It would be Corda, having insisted that the servant wait for permission to enter your quarters if you were present. You are older and expect some privacy, a rarity here because of who you are. Setting down the wine that you had been enjoying, your sandals slap against the hard stone floors as you move to the door and open it. Making you freeze when you see a man in front of you. He’s familiar and yet so different. Darker, older and seemingly more menacing with a large and wicked looking scar bisecting his left brow. Evidence of surviving a nasty fight. The softness of youth chiseled away to leave nothing more than a fierce warrior, a man, standing before you. “P-Pero?!” You gasp, unable to believe that he is here. You know he is alive, his mother had kept you informed when she heard from him, but you are shocked by his appearance and your heart leaps with joy.

“Hola, mi emperatriz.” Pero greets you breathlessly. You’re just as beautiful but you’ve matured and you look like a leader. He offers you a small smile after a moment when you continue to stare and he knows he’s battle worn carrying scars - some visible, most invisible. “I heard about the tournament upon my arrival.” He confesses, “your father’s idea?”

At the mention of the tournament, you realize he is still standing in the doorway of your quarters for anyone to walk by and see. You know that it’s wrong, but you don’t care as you pull him into your room and slam the door behind him. He’s here. You have him back and now, with your father’s proclamation, there is a way for you to be with him. Instead of answering him, you throw yourself at him and press your lips to his desperately.

He doesn’t push you back. He’s seen war. Men die gruesomely in battle. Women and children killed. There were times when he wasn’t sure if he’d ever make it back. His hands grip your waist and he pulls you up against him, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he takes a taste of forbidden fruit.

Moaning, you press impossibly closer. Feeling the joy and passion you haven’t once felt since the day he left reigniting in your belly. You’ve not let another man touch you, remaining pure to his body alone. You know that he will have had other women but you don’t care. It had been your decision and now you are grateful that you had. Your fingers reach for the thick leather belt at his waist to untie it, not caring that he is dirty from the road, you need to touch him to make sure he is real and here again.

Pero knows he should push you away. He shouldn’t claim you again. Yet seeing you, how beautiful you are, remembering how much he’s missed you…it’s like he can’t control himself. He’s not gentle as he gathers your dress in his hands, tugging it up your body so he can caress your skin. “I missed you.” He kisses against your jaw as you push his tunic from his body.

“I prayed to Mars everyday to keep you safe.” You tell him frantically, your hands mapping his scarred body and you groan when your fingers wrap around his rapidly hardening cock. “I love you.” You declare breathlessly. “You said I should not wait, but I did. I have only been yours.” You confess. “Make me yours again, Pero.”

He groans, annoyed that you waited for him because you’ve given him hope. “I love you too. Never stopped.” He vows and guides you back towards the bed. “I’m not going to be gentle.” He confesses, his fingers sliding up your thigh until he’s sliding them through your folds.

“Don’t be.” You beg, knowing that you might be sore, but you will cherish the aches. He pushes you down onto the bed and you slide your dress up to your waist and hurry to unclip the shoulders. “I want my warrior to take the spoils of his conquest.”

Your words make his cock throb and he hisses when you expose your body. Your curves made his mouth water and he surges to dip down and take your nipple into his mouth while he settles between your thighs, gripping his cock to slide it through your folds.

“Pero…” you whimper his name, fingers digging into his longer hair and you love how you can tug on it slightly. “Tell me you didn’t marry.” You beg, gulping back a sob of pleasure when he bites down. “You didn’t find a woman while you were away?”

“I would not be here if that were true.” He assures you, “I wouldn’t betray your soul like that, hermosa.” He vows against your sternum and he starts to push inside of you. “You are still the woman I love.” He promises and you moan as he stretches you out.

Your eyes close and you feel complete for the first time in years. “Fuck.” You whimper, clenching down around him and making him hiss quietly. “That is what I have been missing.” You moan. “Move Pero, take what is yours.”

He doesn’t hesitate to start moving. No longer the younger version of himself making love to you. The desperate older man wants to fuck you, to claim you when he knows that you won’t be his to claim soon. He hisses when your walls flutter around him and he pushes deep when he thrusts back into you. His hand squeezes your breast and he nips along your neck until his lips smash against yours.

You feel the desperation and the need in his kiss, responding in kind. Your fingers drag out of his hair and you scratch down his back again as you rock your hips up to meet his frantic pace. “Pero! Oh fuck, Pero, you, harder- please, harder.”

He won’t deny you when he desperately needs this. He thrusts harder, his skin slapping against yours and his breath puffs against your skin as he pants your name. “So - so fucking perfect. Mi amor. Never stopped loving you. Fuck. I- I missed you.”

“Never stopped.” You gasped, arching up and moaning loudly. Unable to imagine anyone else touching you like Pero is. “Missed you every day. Every day.” You promise. Your body responds to his harsh thrusts and you feel your core start to clench down. Your fingers slide down to his ass and you grip it. Encouraging him as he pumps into you ever harder.

He grunts as you push him deeper and he shifts onto his knees, dragging you into his lap. His strong arms grab the back of your thighs and he lifts you up and down on his cock while he thrusts up into you. “Fuck. Fuck.” He groans, leaning in to kiss your shoulder.

You moan, wrapping your arm around his neck. Pressing your lips to his jaw as he fucks you frantically. You want this always, just him. “I love you. I love you, Pero.” You groan. “You feel so good.”

“Te amo, hermosa. I thought of - of you every day. Every fucking day I’ve been away from you.” He vows, thrusting up into you and his thighs ache but he’s desperate to feel you fall apart around him.

Every thrust pushes you closer to pleasure and you help him. Rocking down when he thrusts up, each one of you groaning and whimpering in pleasure. “I love you, I’m going to- fuck!” You cry out when he pushes deep. Throwing your head back as your cunt clamps down around him.

“Mierda.” He groans when you grip his cock inside of you and soak him. You feel so fucking good. “That’s it, hermosa. Fuck.” He pants, shifting to lay down and you shake as you shift to straddle him. “I want my Empress to ride me.” He orders, smacking your ass with his hand.

You giggle slightly, clenching down around him again from the sharp slap of your skin. Leaning forward, you press your lips to his as you start to rock your hips and moan into his mouth as you push your tongue to meet his.

He caresses your skin everywhere he can reach. Moaning your name as he watches you move on top of him. You aren’t as skilled as a whore but you haven’t done this before. Even with your hips moving a little rigid, he enjoys this far more than any whore he’s given coin to. His hands find your hips, helping you find a rhythm.

He moves you more naturally, making you moan as your tits are pressed into his face. “Pero…” your eyes roll back again and you hold tight to his shoulder as you follow his rhythm and ride his cock.

His mouth finds your nipple, sucking on it as he groans against your flesh. You’re so pliable and he loves how you take him inside of you over and over. Rocking back onto him, you let him control the rhythm and he bites down on your nipple before soothing it with his tongue.

He never wants to let you go. If he could stay in this moment, he’d stay like this forever. His cock twitches inside of you, watching as you take him over and over. His hands caress your back and he kisses up to your neck, aching to suck his mark there but he can’t, no matter how much he wants to.

“I want to feel you inside me again.” You pant breathlessly. “That feeling of your seed inside me was the best feeling I ever had.” You turn and press your lips to his, needing to be close to him in all ways.

He is selfish. If his seed takes and you marry another, his bastard will be killed. They would not allow a bastard to be the future emperor of Rome. His logic knows that it’s not a good idea but his heart and his cock desperately want to fill you up. His heart wins and he rocks his hips to thrust up into you, pushing you forward onto his chest and he wraps his arms around you. “I will fill you up. You’ll be dripping me.” He promises with a growl.

You whine his name and reach down to touch yourself, your fingers brushing against his cock as he rocks up into you. Stroking your flesh quickly as he groans your name, coming apart again with a soft cry. “Pero!”

When you clench down around him, he grabs your ass and thrusts up into you harder and faster, grunts escaping his lips as he seeks his own climax and it doesn’t take long. He hisses your name and clenches his eyes shut as he cums, painting your walls with his seed for the second time.

You moan softly, holding him tight and closing your eyes as he fills you up. The warmth spreads and makes you sigh in pleasure. “That’s so good. I love it, I love you. I want you.” You promise softly. “I- I want you for my husband.”

Pero sighs, stroking his fingers along your spine. “Your father would never allow it. Unless I win the tournament. I need to fight for you, mi amor.” He murmurs, knowing he could be killed but he has to try. He has to fight for his love.

You close your eyes, sighing softly. “Please tell me that you have become a fierce warrior?” You plead. Reaching up, you caress his face and press a kiss to the bottom of his scar. “I don’t want to lose you. I’ve lost you once before and now you are back.”

“I am a great warrior. I have survived many battles and it would be incredible to fight for a cause I truly believe in: you.” He murmurs, “I will fight for you. For us.” He vows, “and if I die…I will die knowing that I fought for us. For our future…even if I never get to witness it.” He whispers, knowing it’s a risk but how can he stand by and watch you marry someone else?

You don’t want him to fight, but if he wins, your father would have to accept Pero as your husband. “You will be the only warrior I will be cheering for.” You promise, kissing his cheeks and then his lips. “You will carry my love onto the sands and defeat all others for my hand.”

Pero nods, caressing your cheek, “for you, my Empress.”

****

He lingers in your quarters for as long as possible until his mother finds him after you are dressed. “Mijo.” She smiles, “you must go before the guards see you.” She warns and he nods, leaning in to kiss your forehead and he squeezes his mother’s hand as he passes her, knowing he cannot remain in your quarters. He must prepare to fight. “I shall prepare the tea.” His mother says and you shake your head, “no tea.” Her eyes widen slightly but she won’t argue with you.

It is a risk for you, but you don’t care. Emboldened by Pero’s return, you are ready to risk everything. “Pero is fighting in the tournament.” You hope she doesn’t get upset at you for making her son risk his life again in the deadly games. “He will win and then you will longer be a servant in this house.” You promise. “You will have your own servant to attend to you.”

His mother is not surprised to hear that her son will be fighting. She’s concerned that he might not win and she will lose her son and the woman she’s come to love as a daughter. You will not survive the loss. She offers you a smile and a nod, not wanting to voice her worry.

****

“I want to win the tournament without too many issues. You know that I am the best man to marry your daughter. Your general. I am fit for war and she will not know of the issues we face on the battlefield. You have sheltered her and she will be a weak leader. She needs a man to guide her.” Atticus, the general of three Roman army explains to your father as they sip their goblets of wine.

“She is naive but I have trained her well in all matters. It is true she needs a man to guide her in the subject of war. Perhaps you are the best candidate.” Your father hums and the general smirks, “then shall we call off the tournament and announce our betrothal?” He suggests but your father shakes his head, “no. We must show the people of Rome that the best man won her hand. You shall fight but let me make it easier for you. Let the riff raff kill each other and you shall be a late contender. You’ll have five men to kill. Maybe less. You shall be the victor.” Your father decides and the general grins, holding up his cup, “to the glory of Rome.”

****

Pero stands with his sword and his shield in hand, helmet on his head as he stands in line. There are many men here to fight for your hand and the hold beneath the colosseum is packed full of men eager to win you and the power of Rome.

The roar of the crowds fill the colosseum and you sit under the shade as warriors file out from the catacombs below to stand in the bright sunshine to bask in the adoration of the crowds. Blood will be spilt today and you wish that none would die, but the more violent the sport, the more entertained the Romans would be. Several from the senate come to greet you, but you keep your eyes on the sands, looking for Pero. He had said he would not fight with a helmet on so you can spot him. Ever since his return a month ago, he has come to your chambers every night to tangle his limbs with yours and leave you limp with pleasure and full of his seed. Your heart is twisted with worry and hope as you wait and look for your lover. Any moment now, your father will arrive to commence the games.

Pero remembers his promise to you to survive and win, and so he sets his helmet down before he steps up onto the sands and winces as the sun hits his eyes. The warriors line up, prepared to fight to the death for the hand of the future Empress. He’d heard many men talk about taking your innocence, leaving your blood on the sheets, and he had to stop himself from killing them before the battle and from revealing the secret he holds close to his heart. He was the one to take your innocence all those years ago. His eyes dart up to the stands where you are and his heart pounds in his chest. This is his chance. His only chance to win your hand and the approval of your father. With his blessing, you could marry and Pero would be by your side until he dies. Your eyes find him in the crowd and he stands straighter, watching your father raise his hand. The crowd goes silent and your father begins to speak. “Today, you fight for Rome, for her honor, and for the honor to be by her Empress’s side as a leader to all Romans. You must earn this privilege and if you fail, you will die. May the best gladiator win.” He nods and the crowd roars back to life when the battle commences moments later.

It’s an impossible task, pretending to be uninterested in the games when your eyes are riveted to one man. You don’t blink, don’t look away for fear of missing some small thing that could be life or death for the man you love. He is amazing, his speed and skill are obvious as he moves, his sword flashing in the sun as he cuts down his rivals.

It doesn’t take long for the first round to be over. Covered in blood and surrounded by bodies, Pero takes the chance to look up at you. You are watching intently and he knows he can’t fail you now. At least two thirds of the warriors are gone. “And now…we introduce a new element…lions.” Your father gleams with maniacal joy as the lions are brought into the arena. The crowd cheers and you gasp “no.” Pero growls, “fuck” under his breath. This just got more complicated but he will kill a fucking lion if he has to.

“Something wrong?” Your father turns and looks at you with a smirk, but you shake your head. It’s already a needless slaughter of Rome’s most capable warriors, but if you show favoritism towards Pero, you are almost sure the games will be directed towards taking him out. You don’t trust the general to not cheat and he has not even stepped out into the area yet. “The tall one.” You tell him, pointing towards a giant of a man with a golden crown of hair peeking out from under his helmet. “He seems like he would be a good husband. Provide me with strong babies to further our line.” You lie, knowing that you would never accept anyone but Pero into your bed.

Your father smirks, “he is not Roman, my dear. He’s from the west. He will not provide the line you wish to have.” Your father declares and raises his hand once again, “commence.” He orders and the warriors begin to battle once more but this time, the lions are released. Pero grunts as his sword clangs with another, the roar of the lion behind him followed by a scream of a man who gets chewed up. Pero’s heart is pounding but he fights, knowing that he can’t lose. You’ll be married to someone who would treat you like a servant when you are destined to be Empress. You need a husband who will support you.

Your heart sinks, knowing now that your father will cheat to have the man he wants you married to win these games. The servants behind you fan the Emperor and you against the heat and you know it must be sweltering down on the hot sands. You gasp when the lion closest to Pero takes a swipe at him, narrowly missing his flesh with those large claws. “Gods.” You mutter, clenching your jaw as another man is dragged down by the great beasts. A splash of blood staining the sands beneath the carnage.

Pero’s chest heaves and he’s covered in sweat. Blood streaked on his body but it’s not his own. The sun is burning but he fights to stay alive, swinging his sword over and over until he’s facing a lion. The lion roars and he grounds himself, swinging his sword. The lion swipes him, making him hiss from the gash on his arm but he ignores it, focusing on killing the beast.

Your entire body tenses and you lean forward. Watching the fight between lion and man. You see the animal cut into his arm and you press your lips together to keep from crying out. You know that your father is watching the games, but he will notice you. You pray to the gods that the lion doesn’t win as you watch the beast lunge towards Pero and drive him to the ground.

Pero scrambles to protect himself with his shield while the lion snaps his teeth at him. He struggles and he sees his life flash before him in that moment and he sees the future he’s losing. A future with you and he won’t let that go so he swings his sword, driving it into the chest of the lion who roars and swipes but stumbles to the ground. Pero pants as he allows himself a moment to regain his strength while the battle continues around him until it’s him and one other man. Your father holds his hand up and the crowd goes silent. Pero’s chest heaves as he looks up at the balcony, waiting for the next announcement. If it’s a fight to the death one on one, he plans to win. “We have a late contender.” Your father declares, “General Atticus throws his hat into the ring.” He announces and the crowd cheers when the gates open to reveal the General in his gleaming armor.

“Father!” You hiss in annoyance, knowing that Pero is exhausted after fighting for hours, while Atticus has watched from the stands and is fresh. He turns to you and smiles, “he will be a good warrior beside you.” He declares and you know that Atticus will cheat. He’s a snake.

Pero rolls his shoulders, knowing that he has to wait until the other man goes for Atticus. He can regain some strength. The horn sounds and as predicted, the other man rushes towards Atticus who easily takes him down. The man was exhausted as is Pero but he won’t lose. He can’t. Atticus smirks as he withdraws his sword from the dead man and wipes it on the sand. “Give it up. You can’t win.” Atticus taunts Pero who growls, chest heaving. The two men appraise each other for several moments and Pero waits for him to make the first move.

You are on the edge of your chair, a small scream clawing up in your throat when you see Atticus attack. The lunge and slash is too close and you see that Pero is exhausted. You grip the arms of your chair as your lover spins away from the general and puts several paces between them. The general shuffles slightly, feinting a move to the left but then goes right, Pero watching and moving with him so he deflects the attack easily. “Mars protect him.” You murmur quietly.

Pero spits onto the sand, his throat dry, and his muscles aching but he refuses to yield. The general smirks at him, “you will never have her. Oh, Pero Tovar, I have heard all about you. How you have been in love with her since you were children. She isn’t yours to have. She will be mine. Rome will be mine.” He grins and surges forward. His sword slicing Pero’s shoulder and your lover cries out in pain. The general attacks again, slicing Pero’s side and he’s exhausted. He falls to his knees, his sword in his hand and his eyes turn to you as Atticus raises his sword.

You lunge to your feet, horror making you shout out the secret you have been keeping from Pero the last week. “I’m carrying your child!” You scream out, “Fight, Pero! I love you!” The entire colosseum is deathly quiet, waiting for the death blow to be delivered, so all of Rome hears your shame. You don’t care. You just want Pero to live.

Pero’s eyes widen as your scream echoes in the colosseum. You’re pregnant. With his child. His jaw clenches and Atticus stares at him in shock, momentarily distracted, and Pero jumps onto his feet, swinging his sword and within moments, Atticus’s head rolls across the bloodied sands of the arena. The crowd roars to life and your father stares in shock as the general’s body is sprawled out on the ground, his head on the sands, eyes wide in shock.

Screaming in joy, you refuse to even look towards your father, knowing that you just ruined his plans for your future rule. Tears start to stream down your face, ecstatic that your lover has won and will now have your hand in marriage per the rules your father set down. The thunderous applause of crowds are deafening, their approval meaning that there is no way your father can change the rules again. “Pero! Pero!” You shout, the crowd picking up on it and starting to chant his name through the colosseum.

Pero pants, exhaustion seeping into his bones and he wastes no time in rushing through the stands, making his way to the balcony, and when he swings his leg onto the balcony, he reaches for you and pulls you close. Pressing his lips to yours, he sighs your name and smiles against your mouth. His hand finding your stomach between you. You can be together. Finally, your father smiles and applauds but you can sense his disapproval.

The people of Rome witness your fussing over him. The frantic kisses and the happy tears they swear everyone in the stands can see. Your hands grab his face to caress and coo over him, overjoyed by the fact that he won. The sands of the colosseum are littered with bodies and blood, signifying how hard Pero fought to win. “I love you.” You promise him breathlessly. “I didn’t tell you before because I wanted to surprise you after you won.” You admit.

“Hermosa.” He murmurs, “I will protect you until my last breath.” He vows, “you and our child.” The crowd is applauding, roaring with screams of joy and your father waves to the crowd until he gestures to you and Pero who takes your hand as he approaches the edge of the balcony. Your father claps as you raise Pero’s arm and your lover grins as it sinks in that he has won. “Your future empress and her warrior. They will be wed in two days time.” Your father announces and the crowd cheers once more.

“Come, my love, you need to wash and rest.” You coo and Pero nods, the adrenaline wearing off and he stumbles slightly as you guide him from the balcony to the chariot waiting to return you to the palace.

The ride back to the palace is quiet, neither one of you speaking, although children and dogs run beside the chariot. The children cheer and wave and the dogs bark as they race alongside the spinning wheels. You are elated that he won, but you need to keep him close until the wedding. Your father will be furious that you had slept with Pero, but hopefully your public confession will keep him safe. Once you are back at the palace, you order food and wine to be brought to the baths, intending on taking care of your lover yourself.

You guide Pero to the private baths of the emperor and yourself, the servants fetching the trays you requested, and Pero watches as you work on removing his armor. “You are going to be mine.” He murmurs, unable to quite believe it. You smile and continue removing the armor from his body, depositing it on the marble floor that surrounds the baths.

Once Pero is naked, you take a cloth and wet it in the water, washing his wounds carefully. “It will scar.” You tsk slightly, knowing that he won’t mind the additional marks on his battle riddled body. “Your victory will be the talk of the Empire for years to come.” You tell him, dropping the cloth and reaching for your own dress to disrobe. “Now you will reap your spoils.” You smirk. “An Empress, bathing you of your sweat and blood before she rides you. Sucks your cock like a common whore. Rome will be on her knees for you.”

Your words make his cock throb, already hard from the adrenaline, and his eyes take in your body. The knowledge that you are having his baby makes him inhale sharply and he groans your name, “my Empress. You shall want for nothing. I am yours. Rome is yours.” He vows as you take his hand to help him step into the warm waters.

The warm water is soothing and you know that your lover is thirsty, so as soon as he sits down you bring him a cup of wine. “My Spaniard.” You hum, holding it up to his lips. “My love, my future warrior and the father of my children to come.” You coo as he takes a sip.

He swallows down half the goblet and after you set it down, he reaches for you so he can cup your cheek. He presses his lips to yours and slides his tongue into your mouth, wanting to show you how much he loves you. He killed half of Rome for you.

You go willingly into his arms, wrapping yours around his neck and straddling his thighs in the water. Kissing him back with just as much passion as you can show him. You know that he’s both exhausted and invigorated and you reach for the cloth and soap. “Let me tend to you.” You murmur, kissing along his jaw as you pick up the goblet and press it into his hands to drink while you tend to him. “Relax and enjoy.”

Pero slides his hands along your back, enjoying the way you care for him. It’s tender and just what he needs after his body has been through hell and back. “Amor.” He murmurs, sighing when you kiss his cheek. The goblet of wine in his hand lowers slightly as his grip loosens. You start to wash him, his hair full of blood, and he watches you bite your lip in concentration.

You take your time, soothing his muscles with the heat and the wine. Knowing that the water feels good and being clean will feel even better. You might have been raised to be the Empress of Rome, but you want to take care of him. He has done so much for you. “My love. My brave and wonderful love.” You praise softly. “I was so scared for you. Even knowing you would win.”

Pero snorts, “you were that sure?” He asks, not believing you. “I know that you weren’t sure. Especially when those fucking lions came out. Your father…he’s a cruel man. Lions.” He shakes his head as you caress his chest with the cloth. “I thought I was going to fail when the lion was on top of me.” He admits softly, “but then you said you were with child and I couldn’t - I had to fight. Even if I was cut down. I had to try.”

“I’m glad you did.” You admit softly, leaning over and kissing his shoulder right above the wound he had taken from Atticus. “I would never wanted to be married to that man. He is just as cruel as my father, maybe more so. I have heard the rumors, and I’ve never liked him.” You soap up your fingers to wash his hair, knowing he will feel better when he is clean. “I missed my bleeding last week.” You explain quietly.

Pero's cock twitches at the fact that he has gotten you pregnant but he remembers the way you screamed it. "You screamed it for all of Rome to hear, mi amor. The people...they will look at you as...impure and I do not wish to have that. We must marry as soon as possible." He murmurs, closing his eyes.

“I don’t care.” You promise him. “I would rather be known as impure and have all of Rome know I love you, than to be viewed as pure and have to marry Atticus.” You sigh softly. “I want to believe Rome would be happy for me. They cheered for you.”

Pero opens his eyes, "they cheered for you. They adore you. Their future Empress." He murmurs, "carrying their future Emperor. They would be fools to cast you aside when you simply followed your heart." He groans when you rub your fingers against his scalp.

You smile as you watch him relax, his eyes closed and enjoying the sensation of your hands in his hair. “They cheered for us, for we are the future of Rome.”

Pero smiles, knowing that it’s always been you. He’s never loved another. His hands sliding down to squeeze your ass as he starts to harden beneath you. “I can’t believe I get to have you. I never - siempre - I always imagined I’d have to watch you marry another.” He confesses, “but now…you’re mine.”

“I am yours.” You promise, picking up a clay pitcher to pour clean water over Pero’s hair. “And as soon as I finish, you are going to sit while I ride your cock and bring you pleasure.” You hum.

“Mmmm mi amor, I would love to let you use my body for your pleasure.” He murmurs, tilting his head back to let you wash the soap from his hair, the blood washing away. His cock is hard beneath you, “mi emperatriz, full of our baby.” He groans, his hands squeezing your ass.

“Full of your baby.” You whisper, pressing your lips to his. “I refused to drink your mother’s tea after you returned.” You admit, wanting him to know that you had no reservations about carrying his child. “If there had been no tournament, I would have asked you to flee Rome with me.”

Pero sighs, reaching up to cup your cheek, “I couldn’t ask that of you. You have been raised to lead. I could never ask you to abandon your empire.” He sighs, “but I would’ve followed you anywhere.”

“That is in the past.” You reach between you to wrap your fingers around his cock and line up so you can sink down on him. “You will be my right hand, the sword and shield of Rome.” You predict as you slowly start to take him into your body. “Leader of my armies and master of my heart. My gladiator.”

Pero’s breath hitches as you sink down onto him. His hands find your waist and his lips press against yours once more. His tongue sliding into your mouth, and he savors his victory. He was nearly killed but he survived, he won. He can enjoy his reward…you.

****

“The general approaches.” Your servant announces it as if you do not see the crowds parting for the large retinue of soldiers, the crests of the regiment held high and the confetti littering the streets for the celebration of your husband’s victorious return to the capital. Your hand idly rubs the large, swollen bump under your breasts where his child safely lies. Kicking at the noise and feeling your happiness at Pero’s return. In the last eight months, your life has changed. You married Pero, ignoring your father’s unhappiness at the union since it was the best thing for Rome. Your father had passed away in his sleep days later, making you the Empress of Rome and your baby its future heir. Pero had been made the top general of your armies and had been dispatched to bring peace to your lands. Successful, he is now returned to you and hopefully, the expensive wars will be no more for a long time. You smile at the crowds, but your eyes are fixed on the noble figure of your husband as his horse canters up the streets, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“Gods, she has gotten big.” He murmurs to himself, riding up the steps of the palace where you are standing and he swings off of his horse as the crowds close in below you. A servant takes the reins as Pero strides over to you, his hands cupping your cheeks to kiss you deeply in front of the people of Rome. The crowd cheers and Pero caresses your bump. “I’ve missed you, emperatriz.” He murmurs, nudging your nose with his. “I missed you too, my gladiator.” You whisper and he smiles, waving at the crowds as he steps back to take your hand. “I need you now.” He demands, escorting you into the palace and you try to keep up as he guides you to your quarters.

Pero’s long strides eat up the marble flooring between the front of the palace and the quarters you had taken for yourself after your father passed. The furnishing had been replaced and the room to the side that had been used for his mistresses had been turned into a nursery for your future child. His eagerness to touch you has you giggling as you are practically dragged along the corridor. Despite your advanced pregnancy, it’s obvious that your husband desires you. “I have missed you between my thighs, husband.” You tease.

“I missed you more than you can imagine, amor.” Pero pushes the doors open, slamming them behind you when you’re inside and he wastes no time dropping to his knees on the marble floor and pushes your dress up your body. His hands caress your bump and he surges forward to bury his face in your curls, his tongue sliding through your folds.

“Pero!” You cry out in pleasure as your sensitive body reacts to his skilled tongue. You had learned so much about each other’s bodies when he had returned and you were sneaking him into your bed every night, but after your marriage, your couplings became even more blissful. Pero is an attentive and giving lover, you don’t doubt that he had been faithful to you while he was away for so many months despite knowing that others take their ease with the whores that follow the army. “Fuck, your tongue is so good. I have missed you beside me at night.”

He groans, missing your tangy taste, and he hisses as he flicks his tongue over your clit. Your bump prevents him from seeing you but he groans as you tangle your fingers in his hair. He’s dirty from the road but he doesn’t care as his hands slide along your legs, caressing your skin while he works you over with his tongue.

Pero eats your cunt eagerly, with a hunger that sometimes takes your breath away as he pushes your body towards pleasure. “Pero.” You whine, holding steady to his shoulders when he lifts one of your legs to his thigh to delve into you deeper. “Make me cry out and then I want you deep inside me, want to feel you fill me up again.”

He wants to push you over the edge. Sucking on your clit, he can feel how close you are and you tug on his hair. His cock is aching for you and he wants you to cum for him. He flicks his tongue over your clit and pushes it deep inside of you, his nose pressing against your clit.

Your stomach heaves and your fingers dig into his hair and tug when you come apart. “Pero!” You scream his name, your eyes rolling back as you soak his tongue in your pleasure. It makes your legs tremble and threaten to buckle but you know his strong arms will keep you upright.

He grips your ass, keeping you upright, and he works you through it, loving the way you moan as you come back down to earth. He caresses your skin and lowers your leg back down. “Come on, amor. I want to be inside of you.” He stands up and takes your hand to guide you over to the bed. He unclips his breast plate and sets it down, his leather tunic swaying as he works on untying it to expose his body to your eager eyes.

“My love, my gladiator.” You moan, his strong body always making you feel desperate for him. He is still strong, even if he is not as lean as he was when he had left you before when you were nearly still children. His cock is hard and jutting out proudly, making you moan. “After you have bathed, I want to be on my knees for you again. Have you sit on the side of the baths while I take you down my throat.”

Pero knows he won’t win if he argues with you that you shouldn’t do that in your condition so he doesn’t protest. “Hands and knees, mi amor.” He knows that’s the most comfortable position for you right now. He kneels on the bed as you shift onto your hands and knees, the baby bump beneath you as your toes dig into the bedding. Pero pumps his cock as he shuffles closer and he positions himself at your entrance before he starts to slowly push inside of you.

Your eyes close, cunt squeezing him tight as you moan his name. You’ve never had another lover but you know that no one else would be as good as your husband. He twitches inside you, making you whimper. “I want it hard, Pero.” You beg. “It won’t hurt me and I crave the ache.”

His hands caress your back down to your ass, pushing your dress higher to expose more of you and he groans when your walls flutter around him. “I love you. Mi emperatriz.” He vows, “I am yours. I serve only you.” He promises and he rocks into you a little harder like you want.

You moan quietly, loving how he adores you. Anyone else would have been hungry for what power you could provide to him, but Pero doesn’t care about that. You are his priority. “I love you.” You gasp out. “You are my Emperor. I give everything to you.”

Pero groans, leaning over you to press his lips to your neck. “I love you. You are everything.” He never wanted to be Emperor. He never wanted the power. He only wanted to be with you, to have you. Even if it meant running from Rome. You’re his life. “My Empress.” He murmurs, rocking into you a little faster, his hand sliding down your bump until he’s pressing his digits against your clit.

You moan his name again, frantic to cum around his cock after so long without him. Pleasure rockets through you and you push back against his thrusts eagerly. “Pero- Pero, I’m going to cum!” You cry out, seconds before stars burst behind your eyes and you clamp down around his length.

He grits his teeth when your walls grip him. He fucking loves it. He’s missed you so much. This is why he could never fuck a whore. No one has ever made him feel like this. He pants against your back as he rocks into you, “fuck. I- I’m gonna fill you up.” He grunts, pushing into you a half dozen more times until he cums, painting your walls with his hot seed. “Te amo.” He pants, breathing you in.

“I love you too.” You slowly roll to your side, Pero still buried inside you so he can stroke your belly and both of you can relax. “You are home now. No more wars until our second child is at least five.” You hum, knowing the people of Rome are tired of costly wars.

“Your empire is secure. Your people love you. We shall be legendary. Our family, our children will be remembered forever.” He murmurs, caressing your belly and he kisses your forehead. “You are my Empress. I would die for you. I would kill for you.” He vows and you stroke his cheek. He already killed for you. Your gladiator. You and Pero were always meant to be and the history books will write of your epic love story. The Empress and her Gladiator.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #Pero Tovar imagine #pero tovar fanfiction #gladiator!pero tovar #gladiator au

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apomaro-mellow · 3 days

Text

King and Prince 19

Part 18

Waking up with morning wood was a wake up call Steve didn’t know he needed. He was able to calm it but now there was a thrumming under his skin. It was like realizing you were hungry and being unable to ignore it. Taking care of it himself was always an option. He had his own room. But he missed being with another person. The thrill of flirtation followed by the ecstasy of coming together as one.

The castle was filled with people. But most either ignored Steve or gave him glares when they passed. It was clear that his family name was causing some grudges and it was only because of Eddie that no one took out their grievances with him. Of the people who didn’t actively hate him, most were children and the other was Robin. She was perfectly lovely with hair that framed her face in a way that caressed her cheeks like a lover.

Honestly, there was a moment where Steve wondered if he was falling for her himself, but her disinterest in men meant she wouldn’t respond to any advances from him. Late one night, when that energy filled him to the brim, he let a bout of madness take him for only a second where he imagined seducing Eddie. In the dark, Steve snickered to himself at the absurdity of it. He was a hospitable host but no one had more reason to hate him than Eddie.

That only left people outside of the castle. People who didn’t recognize him as a prince and thus wouldn’t hold it against him. And Eddie did say that he was no longer a prisoner.

------------------------

Jeff liked to take pleasure in the little things. A nice cool breeze, the smell of warm bread, and the entertainment he got anytime Eddie and Nancy disagreed on things. Nancy was logical and loyal. Everything she did was in the best interests of the kingdom. Eddie, for all his experience, was often impulsive and emotional.

But it was because of this that Eddie often heeded her advice, knowing it came from a place of rationality. To an untrained eye, it may appear that Nancy ran the kingdom. Looks were deceiving. Eddie had years under his belt that most of them couldn’t fathom. It was what made him fit to rule. More important than the great power he held was the wisdom he had acquired.

“You want to be allowed to leave and go out into town?”, Eddie repeated.

Steve stood before Eddie, Jeff, Nancy, and a few others who made up the council. It was a bold thing to ask, given his title and position.

“I’ve been learning about your people and lands. I think I should see more of it for myself.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a scholar of culture”, Eddie brought his leg up to rest his ankle on his knee. He could tell that wasn’t the only reason Steve wanted out, but he also saw no reason to pry besides his own curiosity. The prince had no allies here, not counting the few bonds he’d made within his own walls. Certainly no one with which to conspire against Eddie and his subjects.

“You can’t be considering this seriously”, Nancy said.

“Why not?”, Eddie shrugged.

The others waited to see how the debate would go, keeping themselves silent until each party justified their point. Jeff could see both sides. The prince hadn’t really done anything suspicious to require him to be guarded so closely. Even so, he hadn’t officially denounced his home land nor pledged loyalty to this one.

“Because he’s from an enemy kingdom? Because he could be trying to get you killed or overthrown? I know you think you’re invincible, but try to remember that the rest of us are not”, Nancy said.

“Believe me, I am aware”, Eddie said. “I’m also aware that he has had zero contact with his own people since arriving. And there are no spies in my court. If he wants to go on an outing without having to corral our young wards, I see no reason not to allow this.”

Nancy frowned at Steve. She didn’t see him as much of a threat, merely what he represented and what he was attached to. It was still difficult for her to believe that a king would discard a crown prince. It just didn’t make sense to her. The others began to chime in with why this could go wrong. And many of their arguments were right. This one decision could end very badly. But Steve wasn’t his prisoner anymore. He had already offered to set him free. And it was like Nancy could read his mind.

“Letting him go home and letting him come and go as he pleases are two different things.”

Eddie waved her off. “Semantics. I’ll honor your request to explore, little prince. But you will have a curfew.”

--------------------------

Eddie himself took Steve down to the stables to ensure that the stablehands knew he had the official seal of approval from the king.

“I’ll let you borrow Sunflower here”, Eddie handed Steve the reins.

Sunflower was a beautiful color, almost golden and it reminded Steve that this place wasn’t all dark clouds and shadows. They had beautiful skies and flowers.

“Thank you”, Steve said, petting her mane.

“I want you back before sundown”, Eddie said.

Steve nodded. All in all, a rather generous curfew, given that the days were starting to get longer. He didn’t leave right away though. He went back to his room to get ready, putting on one of the new outfits he’d been given. It was meant for everyday wear so it wasn’t as nice as the one for the festival, but it was definitely good quality. He did his hair, checking in the mirror to make sure it was perfect.

By the time Steve was done, quite some time had passed, but he still had hours before the sun would set. He went to retrieve Sunflower and exited the gates, feeling free as he trotted out.

“Now how sure are we that he’s not just going to ride off into the sunset?”, Robin asked as she happened to catch him leaving from a window.

“Pretty damn sure”, Eddie said, focusing on twirling a fork in his hand.

When Steve got into town, he allowed himself to really take it in. Of course it was a sight to see during a celebration, but it was also lovely now too when people were just going about their business.

Back home, Steve never had to search far for a partner. Even the most frigid had melted when a crown prince gave them his attention. But he couldn’t just announce that he was royalty. That would end in disaster.

No, if he wanted to find a lover for the evening, he’d have to rely solely on his wits and charm. Thankfully, he had both in abundance. He figured a tavern was a good place to look and he found one. He tied Sunflower up outside and ventured in. Only about three steps in did he realize he had no money but he kept up his stride. This was where the charm came in.

There was a young woman at the bar, nursing a drink. Her hair was cut short, in a similar style to Nancy’s but much curlier. Her brown skin was complimented by her gold earrings and made it apparent that she appreciated the finer things. She looked up as Steve approached and smiled.

“Mind a bit of company?”, he asked.

She nodded to the stool next to her. “Help yourself.”

It was easy to take a seat and slip back into old habits, even easier when his conversation partner was a beautiful woman who had no idea who he was. He hardly even had to lie. All that mattered was that he was new to the area and looking for a bit of fun. She caught on quick and luckily had a room in the tavern they could go to.

Afterwards, Steve wanted nothing more than to bask in the afterglow, but he knew he couldn’t linger too long. He didn’t want to mess up what little goodwill he had from Eddie so fast.

On the way back, he was already thinking of his next outing. Who he might find and what kind of person they may be. Maybe if he behaved, he could convince Eddie to let him spend an entire night out. There had to be a place for entertainment other than drinking such as dancing. And perhaps he’d even find a regular lover and not -just a part time bed mate.

---------------------

Eddie resisted the urge to put eyes on Steve when he left the first time. He only kept his regular sentries that monitored the castle gates and walls. He knew when Steve left and knew when he returned but that was it. He tried not to think too hard about what he was doing and with who.

For all he knew, Steve was going to the tavern to drink his troubles away, playing cards with old men, or knitting with old ladies. Eddie had no idea what kind of hobbies Steve had back home but he could be a knitter.

The first time Eddie saw Steve after one of his excursions was about two weeks later. And there was only one way to describe Steve’s condition after reveling in whatever delighted him in town.

He was glowing.

Part 20 coming soon

Taglist

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie

@goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble

@jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24

@justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void

@nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690 @autumncrocusandladybug

@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-steve

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie

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captain-hawks · 20 hours

Text

till one of us caves

atsumu miya x f!reader

In which Osamu asks his brother to keep you company while you're closing the shop alone one night. And it wouldn't be an issue...if Atsumu wasn't the bane of your goddamn existence ever since your stupid drunken hookup years ago.

wc: 3.7k

c: 18+, smut, enemies to lovers speed run, the complete and utter defilement of onigiri miya (sorry osamu), miscommunication, fingering, unprotected p in v, atsumu is down so bad and also he's an idiot, protective!atsumu, miya twin banter, best friend!osamu

“Absolutely not.”

Osamu pauses in the middle of counting cash at the register and glances up to follow where your narrowed gaze is focused—a head of blonde hair on its way through the front doors of Onigiri Miya.

“I didn’t want ya closin’ alone,” Osamu replies, returning his attention to the stack of bills in his hand.

“Hey dickhead, I hope yer feedin’ me for this!”

Instant headache.

Instant fucking headache.

You let out a long-suffering, exaggerated sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re only leaving an hour early. I can handle this alone, Osamu. I promise.”

Osamu closes the register, turning around to look at you with his arms crossed. “It’s a Saturday night. I don’t like you dealin’ with the drunk stragglers by yourself.”

Glancing around, you pick up the only vaguely threatening object within arm’s length—a plastic spork. “I know self defense.”

Raising an eyebrow, Osamu glances from your face to the small utensil clutched between your fingers. “Wouldn’t be the first time Tsumu’s been stabbed with a spork,” he mutters.

“Fooooooooooood,” said twin dramatically whines, plastering himself across the counter like a fainting Victorian maiden.

“Get yer sweaty ass offa there,” Osamu grunts, snapping a rag against Atsumu’s arm.

He yelps, muttering something under his breath before finding a normal sitting position on the stool.

“Alright, now get outta here so you’re not late for your date,” Atsumu chides, running a hand through his hair.

It’s obnoxious, actually—the way he still manages to look infuriatingly attractive even with his sweaty bleach-blonde hair sticking up in every direction, his face still flushed and voice a little hoarse from practice. At the very least, he had the decency to toss on a clean black tee with MSBY emblazoned in large gold letters across the back.

You hate Atsumu Miya and his stupidly perfect face.

And his calves—who the fuck has calves that nice.

You also hate Osamu, your best friend and boss, for unceremoniously dumping your least favorite Miya into your lap at 8 o’clock on a Saturday night.

“It’s not a date,” Osamu yells from the office, walking out with a jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Looks like ya showered for once today, dirtbag,” Atsumu shoots back, mouth full of rice. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“Choke,” Osamu deadpans as he heads for the door, “…but not in here. Don’t have time for all that paperwork.”

Atsumu salutes his brother as you stand in the middle of the shop with your hands wrapped around the broom.

“Can’t promise what kind of paperwork you’re gonna have to do after leaving us alone together,” you mutter.

Osamu leans in, patting the side of your face. “Just promise me you’ll mop up the blood.”

—

You’ve known the Miya twins for years now, though it was Osamu that you first became friends with after a shared class in your second year of university.

Atsumu was more like the miserable cold that you accidentally bring home from vacation.

The miserable cold who you’re instantly, stupidly attracted to from the moment his brother introduces him to you. Who you end up drunkenly making out with in bed after a party one night.

Who passes out midway through and disappears before you’re awake the next morning.

Who had a fucking girlfriend at the time, unbeknownst to you. Knowledge courtesy of Osamu, who nearly undeservingly took a textbook to the head when he told you.

Who, to this day, three years later, has never even acknowledged that it happened.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if you hadn’t been harboring a stupid crush on him for months. And if perhaps you’d been a little more drunk, enough to forget the taste of his lips, the press of his fingertips into your hips. But naturally, that little hiccup drove an irrevocable wedge between the two of you, leading you to regard the blonde Miya in a perpetually antagonistic manner until the end of time.

Such is life.

“I think you might rile ‘im up better than even I can nowadays,” Osamu had observed once, after Atsumu balked in aggravation when you returned from picking up everyone’s fast food orders and handed him a kid’s meal instead.

Atsumu, never one to back down from a challenge, met your piss poor attitude in spades, going so far as to barge in on your dates on occasion, plopping right down at the table and obnoxiously stuffing whatever appetizer was in front of him into his mouth like you’d invited him.

—

Surprisingly, despite the restaurant’s minimal square footage, the two of you manage to avoid one another for the next forty-five minutes—Atsumu quietly sits at a table watching game replays on his phone while you wipe down the counters.

You almost forget he’s there, until the bell above the door dings to announce what’ll probably be the last customer of the night.

And—fuck.

Osamu kicked this guy out last week when he wouldn’t take no for an answer after you refused to give him your number.

“Hey pretty girl,” a tipsy voice slurs as the man settles down at the counter.

“Sorry, we’re about to close,” you tell him, not looking up from the pile of receipts you’re sorting on the other side.

“S’not why I’m here,” he chuckles.

Take a hint, buddy.

“We’re closing soon,” you repeat firmly.

A hand grasps your wrist, and you yelp as he murmurs, “What’re you doing after this?”

“Get your fuckin’ hands off of her, and get the fuck out,” a cold voice interrupts.

A hand clamps down firmly on the man’s shoulder, and you watch the pain flit across his face as fingertips dig into his collarbone.

“Now,” Atsumu adds, his voice so harsh it brokers no room for argument.

You may call yourself an expert in Miya antagonization. But as you look at Atsumu’s stormy, furious expression, the tense set of his jaw, you realize that you’ve never seen him truly angry.

Not like this.

The man quickly gets up from the stool, putting his hands up in front of him as he stumbles backward and says, “I didn’t mean anything by it, man.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Atsumu replies, his voice low. “I’m sure my brother was a real nice guy when he told ya to leave last time. I ain’t nice. Don’t fuckin’ come back here.”

The silence is deafening when the front door swings shut, broken only by the sound of Atsumu twisting the lock into place and flipping the sign to CLOSED. Your heart, meanwhile, is frantically pounding in your chest.

Atsumu wasn’t even here when that happened last week, which means Osamu must have told him for whatever reason, and…

“You alright?”

Atsumu interrupts you from your thoughts, and you glance up to find a disarmingly concerned expression burrowed into his features.

“Yeah…thanks,” you exhale, quickly turning around to busy yourself with anything but staring at the downward curve of his lips.

You have all of ten seconds to yourself before Atsumu comes to stand beside you behind the counter, idly tidying a pile of napkins as he explains, “Samu was worried that creep might come back, so he was gonna cancel his plans tonight so you wouldn’t be alone if he did. I told him I’d come make sure ya were alright.”

You’re not sure why, but suddenly, you’re angry.

You’re really fucking angry.

Maybe it’s because you’re a little raw in the wake of the adrenaline rush from that uncomfortable encounter, a little shaken by the stranger’s boldness and the way Atsumu stepped in without a second thought.

Maybe you swear it looked like Atsumu was about to reach out to you afterward, his hand falling back to his side in an aborted gesture between one breath and the next.

“Since when do you care if I’m alright, Atsumu?”

Atsumu startles beside you. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you led me on years ago and nearly fucked me at a party—you probably would have, if you didn’t pass out in my bed halfway through taking off your pants. You disappeared the next morning, failed to inform me that you had a girlfriend, and then conveniently acted like it never fucking happened.”

He stares at you, mouth slightly agape. “I’m sorry, I what now?”

You turn to face him fully, crossing your arms, an incredulous look on your face. “You’re joking, right?”

“Was that…oh….” Atsumu scratches the back of his head, trailing off. “That’s the night I blacked out.”

“I mean yeah, you were kind of trashed.”

“No, like that’s the night that made me realize I had to cut back on drinking. I’ve got no memory of what happened. Zero. Haven’t drank that much since.”

“So was it not concerning that you woke up in my bed?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“I hardly knew ya back then. Didn’t even know that was your dorm room, and you were hoggin’ all the covers. Couldn’t even see yer face before I panicked and crawled my hungover, half-dead ass back to me and Samu’s.”

Well, this is certainly news to you.

“…and Osamu never told you.”

Well, why would he, after you spent two hours bitching to him about it and then threatened to never speak to him again if he made the situation even more embarrassing by telling Atsumu you were upset.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p for emphasis before sobering a bit as he says in a more serious tone, “I’m sorry. For doing that to you, and for forgetting that it happened.”

You reach out, punching Atsumu in the shoulder.

“The fuck was that for?” he exclaims.

“So why have you been such an insufferable jackass all these years?”

Atsumu raises his eyebrows, looking affronted. “You haven’t exactly been a ray of sunshine either, sweetheart.”

Well, true.

But still.

(You try to ignore what the stupid pet name does to your heart, which is currently in the midst of a traitorous backflip inside of your chest.)

“At least I didn’t barge in and ruin your dates for no reason,” you glare.

“That was like, twice,” Atsumu defends himself. “Maybe three times.”

You stare at him.

“The fourth time doesn’t count, that guy was a dickhead. Samu wanted to punch ‘im, too.”

“You ate an entire basket of breadsticks.”

Atsumu shrugs, taking a step closer to you. “They’re bottomless for a reason.”

You’re not sure when it happened, but you’re pressed up against the prep counter in the back of the shop, and one of Atsumu’s hands is resting on the cool metal surface beside your hip. Not quite touching you, but you swear you can feel the heat of him all the same.

“You ruined my dates for breadsticks?” you ask quietly, holding his gaze.

Atsumu’s thumb twitches, and you feel the featherlight touch through your jeans. “I ruined your dates because I was jealous.”

Blood rushes in your ears, your mind struggling to comprehend the rush of emotion flooding through you. Embarrassment, elation, shock, annoyance—and something else, something with a darker, richer edge.

Something that has the next words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them, “Did you think doing that was going to make me take you home and fuck you instead?”

Atsumu has the decency to flush, but he only further closes the gap between your bodies, his nose brushing against yours as he replies, “I hated how much you hated me. And I hated how much I still wanted you.”

“You’re an idiot, Miya.”

He laughs.

He laughs, and it’s a low, rich sound that dances down your spine and curls up low in your belly.

“Yeah, yer probably right,” he exhales, his breath hot against your lips. “I should probably find another tactic.”

“I’ve heard drunken hookups work wonders,” you sigh, voice tinged with sarcasm.

His free hand comes to rest on your other side, effectively caging you in. “I’d have to be a fuckin’ idiot to fumble the bag with you twice.”

“Who said I’m still interested?” you reply, putting an inch of space back between your mouths, if only for the sake of your own sanity.

Atsumu hums. “I do have eyes, ya know.”

You don’t miss a beat, “Maybe I’m secretly dating your brother, and I just objectively like the look of your face, as his twin. Like a natural, biological reaction.”

“Yer not datin’ Samu,” Atsumu replies evenly. “He couldn’t handle ya.”

You glare at him. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Atsumu smirks at your indignation. “You’re outta his league.”

“And what exactly is my league?”

“Some stupid, sweaty pro volleyball player whose got it pretty damn bad for ya, who would settle for a hate fuck at this point if that’s all ya wanna give him.”

You know Atsumu clocks the way your breath hitches in your throat, the slight widening of your pupils that you can’t disguise at the bald, shameless truth of his words.

The look on his face is so ridiculously endearing, you want to kiss it right off.

Pushing yourself upward with your palms, you sit up on the counter, and Atsumu shifts forward to stand between your legs.

“Osamu would kill us.”

His nose caresses yours again, and he rests one hand on the side of your face. “For doing something other than fightin’? He’d throw a party.”

“For turning Onigiri Miya into a house of ill repute.”

Atsumu chokes.

“But there’s just one little thing, Atsumu,” you continue.

“What’s that?” he asks carefully, each word a huff of warm air dancing across your mouth.

You exhale, shuddering at the feeling of Atsumu’s other hand idly tracing the exposed sliver of skin between your t-shirt and jeans. “Can you handle me?”

Atsumu’s thumb skirts across the bottom of your chin before he leans in, mouthing his next words against your lips, “Have I ever told you how hot it is when you’re mean to me?”

Your answering laugh is swallowed by a kiss, an all-consuming kiss that has you gasping into Atsumu’s mouth as he licks his way into yours.

There’s no preamble for the way Atsumu’s tongue dances across your own, the thorough way he tastes you—the groan that rumbles in his throat as you take his bottom lip between your teeth.

Kissing Atsumu Miya is like setting a wildfire loose in your chest, all the oxygen swallowed up by his greedy, hungry heat. Your nerves thrum, the vibration rattling to the tips of your toes, and you’re helpless to resist the urge to pull him closer.

The second one of your legs begins to hike up around Atsumu’s waist, he grabs both, urging you to wrap your thighs around him, and he groans into your mouth as you find yourself flush with the solid proof of his arousal.

“Ya have no fuckin’ clue how bad I’ve wanted you,” he murmurs, drawing a keening noise from your lips as he hotly mouths his way down the side of your neck.

On the court, Atsumu Miya is an indomitable force. He’s unwaveringly confident and effortlessly sure of himself as a setter, always in control.

The crowd falls quiet, the ball follows his trajectory.

It’s a practiced dance, and he’s the conductor.

But here, pressed up against the counter in his brother’s restaurant, with your fingers tangled in his hair and his warm, soft hands sliding up beneath your shirt to clutch your waist, there’s a lawless, frantic edge to him. For every precise, focused move—like a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear that he somehow just knows will make you gasp, and the dizzying way he cups the back of your head when he kisses you deeper—you can feel the wild, barely-restrained desire in the unfiltered chorus of groans you’re not even sure he’s aware are falling past his lips.

It’s slipping—his control.

And you don’t want him to stop.

“Atsumu,” you whine into his mouth when he finally, finally slides a hand up under your bra, cupping your breast and teasing at your sensitive, pebbled nipple.

“Yeah?” he pants, kissing his way around the curve of your jaw, only pausing to help you in your endeavor to take off your shirt.

He wastes no time in unclipping your bra, his deft fingers making quick work of the clip, and his expression is nothing short of lustful reverence when he takes in the sight of your naked breasts before him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs quietly, taking a breast in each of his palms while he leans in to press a kiss to your sternum, and whatever you were going to say promptly exits your mind a beat later. Wet, hot heat engulfs your nipple, and you glance down, nearly choking on your own spit at the sight of Atsumu sucking on your breasts.

Rocking your hips into him, you let out a breathy whine at the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your cunt, the fabric of his athletic shorts doing nothing to hide his thick, throbbing insistence.

Atsumu moans against your tits, and the filthy, wet sound of him shamelessly lapping at them sends a fresh gush of arousal between your legs, your underwear now soaked with it. You reach between your bodies, doing your needy cunt no favors at all when you feel just how thick Atsumu is as you wrap your fingers around him.

“God, I’m gonna fuckin’ come if you keep doing that,” he lets out a low, ragged sound caught somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

“I’d rather you come somewhere else,” you tell him, pulling down his shorts and boxers to let his flushed, leaking shaft spring free.

Atsumu takes your face in both hands, kissing you hard and filthy as he unbuttons your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear and leaving both in a forgotten heap on the floor. And when you wrap your legs back around him and rub your slick folds down the length of his cock, you’re already dangerously close to coming from that alone, too.

He slides a finger into you, muttering a string of expletives under his breath when he feels the sopping squelch of how wet you already are for him. One digit soon becomes two pumping in and out of you, and while it’s still not enough to quell the greedy desperation he’s ignited, he’s barely begun rubbing circles into your aching clit when you’re already shaking in his arms and moaning in the throes of your climax.

And then he’s stroking himself, groaning softly, like he thinks this is what he has to do now to take care of his throbbing cock.

Like you’re satisfied already, as if you’ve somehow had your fill of him.

As if two fingers between your legs would ever be enough to encapsulate all that you want of Atsumu fucking Miya.

(And really, it’s a lot, quite frankly. Now that you’re finally ready to admit it to yourself.)

“Fuck me, Atsumu,” you plead.

He pauses, chest heaving, voice rough as he asks, “Are you sure?”

“Please,” you exhale against his lips, and his mouth slots against yours as he notches his shaft at your entrance and sinks his cock into you.

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you’re reduced to moans and whimpers while he stretches you open as your entire body floods with pleasure, your mind hazy with desire. Once he bottoms out, you feel so full you want to cry. You want to keep your legs wrapped around his waist and cockwarm him all night. You want him to fuck you stupid. You want to ride his cock until you both can’t move.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, hips rocking as he thrusts in and out of you, your walls fluttering with pleasure at the rhythmic push and drag. “Wanna take you home and do this again and again.”

“Me too,” you tell him, and you can feel the way his cock throbs inside of you at your admission, his fingertips tightening around your waist.

“Good, ‘cause I’m not gonna last much longer,” he admits, grinning against your mouth.

The pleasure is rapidly building up inside of you again, the filthy slide of Atsumu’s tongue in your mouth only further fanning the flames, one hand trailing back up to tease at your hard nipples.

And you want to tell him, “Same,” because you’re dangerously close to the edge already, years of studiously ignored desire all spilling over into a crazed, insatiable need that’s making your pussy throb.

But instead what you whine is, “Harder.”

Atsumu groans, the noise nearly as lewd as the continuous sound of his cock pumping in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the only warning that he heard you before he picks you up off of the counter, plunging right back into you the moment you’re lying flat on the floor.

With the ground beneath your bodies for purchase, Atsumu begins to roughly pound into you, the fingers of one hand tangling with your own as the other trails toward your clit.

You moan his name repeatedly, like some fucked up carnal prayer on the floor of Onigiri Miya, and as he rubs circles into your swollen clit and whispers your own name just as desperately, you come so hard everything goes white, every sensation in your body drowned out by the sheer downpour of pleasure that you’re uncontrollably shaking with. Atsumu follows suit a moment later, pulling out of you and furiously fisting his cock until hot, thick spurts of cum are splattering all over your chest, groaning as he watches his seed paint your tits.

And just because you’re fairly certain what it’ll do to him, you reach down and swipe a glob off of your nipple while you both try to catch your breath, holding eye contact with him as you lick the cum off of your finger and swallow it.

Atsumu’s lips part as he stares at you, eyes widening a little bit before he looks down at his cock, which is already twitching again with interest.

–

Later, when you’re both lying tangled in Atsumu’s sheets, his phone lights up on his nightstand—

Samu: congrats Samu: there is literally a security camera in the shop Samu: also you’re disgusting you own a whole fuckin apartment to fuck in Samu: die slowly

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated<3!

#atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #dee writes

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houserautha · 22 hours

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I need interactions between Feyd and her grownup daughter.

In the original story Ghanima has a concubine in addition to her brother husband (in name only, but still). I wonder what the Harkonnen Princess’s love life/sex life/married life would be and how Feyd behaves in all that

I think Feyd would have exactly one weakness — his daughter. (I’m naming her Annora because it means honor and because I can. Also, as preference, a whipping boy was used in early Europe. They were tutored alongside a prince or noble and instead of the prince being punished for his transgressions, the whipping boy would be punished in front of him)

Annora is his only daughter out of eleven sons. She can do no wrong in his eyes. As a child, she was elected a “whipping boy” to receive her punishments because Feyd could never imagine hurting her. But this only taught her to be cunning and secretive with her less desirable behaviors, which translated into an adult na-Baroness who is extremely pampered and goes to any lengths necessary to get what she wants and avoid her father’s (selective) wrath.

You see, unfortunately, Annora has fallen for her whipping boy. What should’ve made them enemies only made them closer, a childhood friendship blossoming into something more.

Her brother knows this well.

They’re forced into a marriage together, in title only, and he does his best to protect his sister’s secret. Feyd-Rautha would never allow his precious daughter to be with him, the whipping boy, someone lowly and of poor status. So Annora fields a large array of concubines to keep up the facade for her father, some in which she indulges (she is a creature of pleasure like her father) but none who satisfy her like her lover.

I think Feyd would be fine with his daughter having concubines and torrid affairs — she is married to her brother, after all, and he knows the perils of inter-family relationships. But he absolutely loses it when he accidentally discovers Annora engaged with the whipping boy, who he thought his daughter kept around for nostalgia sake. He appointed the whipping boy because he was a child from a slave couple, unimportant and certainly not good enough for Annora.

“Why do you shame me?” Feyd hisses at his daughter, pulling her away as she fumbles to lace up her dress. He leaves the whipping boy to be dealt with later.

Annora, twice as fierce as her father and just as stubborn, says, “You don’t know anything.”

“You take up with that…with that rat?” Feyd sneers. More than anything he is concerned for his daughter, for her reputation and her heart, the future life that the whipping boy would give her. If anyone would find out…

“He’s not a rat,” Annora bites back. Her hands form into fists at her side, single braid swaying as she shakes her head in disbelief. “He’s been there for me through everything. He loves me for me, not for my status or my power or my money like all the others.”

Feyd snorts. “He loves you because you have kept me from slaughtering him like a lamb.”

“You put him in my life.”

Feyd tightens his grip on her arm. “Because I could not bear to harm you. Do you understand that? I cannot stand the thought of —” his voice breaks, flushed with emotion. Feyd clamps his mouth shut in order to fend it off. When he speaks again, his face has taken on a softened expression. “He will hurt you, Annora.”

“He’s never hurt me,” Annora breathes, touched by her father’s rare display of vulnerability, however fleeting it might’ve been.

“He will.”

“He won’t.”

Feyd’s brow, looking far more wrinkled than Annora remembers it being, furrows. “Men are liars and beasts, I know this well. How can you separate him from them?”

“You must get to know him,” Annora says. Her eyes shine with regret. “Aside from how he looks when you strike him.”

Feyd does not give in to this obvious attempt at making him feel guilty. He has no qualms about harming the boy over his own daughter. He considers this. “Fine. Invite him to dinner tomorrow and we shall…talk.”

I think I’ll leave the rest up to your own discretion😜 Does it go well?? Poorly?? Tell me what you think

#feyd rautha #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha headcanons #family fued #Keeping Up with the Harkonnens

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fanficapologist · 4 hours

Text

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Bed rest was incredibly difficult, even though Maera knew the Maester had recommended it for the sake of her health. She couldn't remember a time when she had actually kept still for this long. The days stretched into weeks, each hour feeling like an eternity as she lay confined within the four walls of her chambers.

She recalled how, even as a child, she had defied the orders of the Maester at Rain House. No matter how ill she felt, she would quickly sneak out of bed to play with her toys or climb atop her bookshelf to reach her favorite fairytale. Her septa would scold her, but Maera never cared. The thrill of independence and the joy of losing herself in stories had always outweighed any reprimands.

Yet now, despite feeling like a caged dragon, Maera adhered to the Maester's orders for three long weeks, for the sake of her unborn child. Each day, she reminded herself of the precious life growing inside her, finding strength in the small kicks and movements that signaled her baby's vitality.

Maester Cain visited the Princess daily, diligently re-dressing her wounds, checking her stitches, and monitoring the progress of her healing. He applied various ointments and prescribed medicines to aid her recovery, though his options were limited by her pregnancy.

Lord Unwin also made regular visits, keeping Maera up to date with the happenings within the castle and the council meetings. His updates were a lifeline to the outside world, yet each visit brought a pang of shame. She felt weak and pathetic, dependent on others for information and care, a stark contrast to her usual self-reliance.

The usual young maid attended to the Princess as well, quick and efficient in her duties. She changed the sheets regularly, careful not to disturb Maera’s injuries as she dressed her in fresh clothes. The maid also brought Maera her meals, ensuring she was fed and comfortable. But that was the extent of their interaction. Unlike Thena in King's Landing, who had always chatted with Maera and made her feel less isolated, this maid performed her tasks in silence, leaving as soon as her duties were complete.

The combination of these visits—necessary though they were—only served to deepen Maera's feelings of helplessness. She longed for the days when she could move freely, engage with those around her on her own terms, and reclaim her strength and independence.

Another thing that didn’t help was hearing Ēbrion’s calls from outside her window. Maera had not seen her dragon in weeks and she desperately wished to be near him. The great beast was her oldest friend here, and she yearned to feel his presence, to fly and escape these prison-like walls.

One day, Maera managed to get out of bed and walk around a little. The wounds on her arm and thigh were incredibly sore, but Maester Cain had assured her they would be fully closed in a few more weeks. Each step sent a jolt of pain through her body, the few paces leaving her breathless, unused to the exertion after weeks of bed rest.

Determined to regain her strength, Maera set small goals each day to walk a little further. At first, it was just a few steps from the bed to the chair. Then, a few more steps to the door. After several days of this slow progress, she finally managed to make it to the window and sit on the ledge, a welcome change from the confines of her bed. The fresh air and the view of the outside world were invigorating, even though her body still ached from the effort.

As she sat on the window ledge, Maera looked out and saw the distant figure of Ēbrion. His calls seemed to echo her own longing for freedom. She knew it would still be some time before she could fly with him again, but the sight of her dragon gave her hope. Looking out past Harrenhall’s broken walls, Maera saw her mount in the same place she last saw him in person: the burnt lavender field.

The sight brought back a flood of memories, haunting her with the vividness of her encounter with Alys. She could almost feel the blade piercing her skin again, the sharp, excruciating pain that still echoed in her body on the worst days. The smell of burning flesh and lavender wafted into her mind, a stark reminder of the moment she had ordered Ebrion to incinerate Alys.

The guilt about what she had done, particularly concerning Alys's unborn child, had begun to fade. The relentless waves of remorse were now replaced with a cold, clear anger. As the fog of guilt lifted, Maera's rage toward her husband grew and grew.

Aemond had still not returned, and there was no news from the ongoing battle near Rook's Rest. Despite Maera's growing anger toward him, she couldn't help but be concerned for her husband's wellbeing.

A thousand questions raced through her mind. Surely no news was good news? But what if it wasn’t? What if something had happened to the Lord Commander? Or to Aemond? What position would that leave her and their child in? If the Blacks won at Rook's Rest, would she find herself at Rhaenyra’s mercy? Would Rhaenyra even grant them mercy?

The thoughts made Maera shudder. Her mind spun with the uncertainty of their future. The possibilities loomed over her like a dark cloud, each one more terrifying than the last. She tried to push them away, but they clung to her, dragging her down into a well of anxiety and fear. Desperate for a distraction, the next time the maid had returned, Maera pleaded with her to provide her with something, anything, that would provide solace and a brief escape from the prison of her mind.

The maid had brought Maera a large fresh bouquet from the gardens, along with some charcoal and parchment. Maera was extremely thankful for the thoughtful gesture. However, due to her low spirits, she found herself unsure of what to draw. Her dragon Ēbrion, visible from her window, only made her miss the freedom of the skies. The outside world reminded her of the confining walls of Harrenhal, and she had never excelled at drawing portraits of people.

With a sigh, Maera hobbled to her desk where the lovely bouquet had been placed. The vibrant flowers were a glimpse of the beauty that lay beyond the castle’s walls, a fragment of the life she yearned to return to. Deciding to capture this piece of the outside world, she picked up her charcoal and began to sketch the delicate petals and intricate leaves.

She started with the red geraniums, their rounded petals forming clusters of vibrant blooms. The delicate veins in each petal were carefully rendered with gentle strokes, the charcoal capturing the depth and texture of the flowers. Next, she moved to the black snapdragons, their tall, spiky stems and intricate blossoms creating a striking contrast. The dark blooms seemed to absorb the light, and Maera took care to highlight their shadowy allure.

The deep orange marigolds came next, their ruffled petals and dense heads a challenge to capture with charcoal. She meticulously shaded the layers, bringing out their fiery intensity. The red petunias, with their trumpet-shaped flowers, added a splash of brilliance to the bouquet. She sketched their soft, velvety petals, capturing the delicate folds and curves.

The black poppies were a somber addition, their wide, papery petals dark and mysterious. Maera rendered them with a mix of light and heavy strokes, emphasizing their dramatic presence in the bouquet. Finally, she turned her attention to the white rose that had begun to wilt. The edges of the petals were tinged with brown, the delicate flower showing signs of its fleeting beauty. She carefully sketched its drooping form, capturing the fragility and grace of its decline.

As she worked, a pang of sadness washed over her. In King's Landing, she would have painted these flowers, bringing out their true colors with vibrant pigments. Here, she only had charcoal, and while it allowed her to capture the forms and shadows, it lacked the ability to convey the vivid hues that made each flower special. The monochrome sketches were a pale imitation of the bouquet's true beauty, and Maera longed for the days when she had a full palette at her disposal.

Gazing at the blooms, Maera could not help but be reminded her of her dear friend Helaena. Just a year ago, they were strolling through the gardens of the Red Keep, hand in hand, their laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves and the hum of insects. Helaena, with her boundless enthusiasm, would gleefully point out the bugs wandering amongst the blooms, her violet eyes lighting up with childlike wonder.

The joy she shared with Helaena felt like a distant dream, yet it was a dream she clung to, a beacon of light in her darkened world. Maera's heart ached for the simplicity and innocence of those times, and she longed to walk through the gardens with Helaena again, free from the burdens that now weighed her down.

The Princess felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Helaena behind to follow Aemond to Harrenhall. She wondered if things would have been different if she had stayed in King's Landing, remaining by her oldest and dearest friend's side. Perhaps, she thought, none of this would have happened.

She silently prayed for Thena, hoping that when the time was right, the maid would be able to get Helaena out of the Capital to a place of safety. Maera wished with all her heart that Helaena would find happiness once more, allowed to walk freely amongst blooming gardens and enjoying the simple company of the insects.

On the day Maera felt strongest, she finally left her chambers. The maid had dressed her in a soft, black silken gown that felt light and airy against her large stomach and the healing wounds on her arm and thigh. The fabric flowed gently around her, offering a semblance of comfort and grace she had longed for during her bedridden weeks. Maester Cain assisted her down the corridor, his cautious presence a constant reminder of her recent ordeal. He helped her into the carriage, ensuring she was settled comfortably before taking his place beside her, his eyes filled with both concern and encouragement.

As the carriage pulled away from Harrenhall, Maera opened the window, letting the fresh air fill the space. She gazed out at the mountains and valleys, their majesty a balm to her weary soul. The sun's warmth on her skin and the gentle breeze in her hair made her feel alive in a way she hadn't for weeks. The rustling of leaves, the distant calls of birds, and the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels on the path all combined into a symphony of life that she had missed so dearly. Inside her, the baby seemed to share her delight, kicking with great strength as if to express its own joy at being outside.

Maera stepped out of the carriage, her movements slow and deliberate. Maester Cain offered his arm, supporting her as she limped forward. Together, they walked towards the great expanse of the Gods Eye, the lake shimmering under the midday sun. The sunlight glinted off the water, creating a mosaic of dazzling reflections that danced across the surface. Just as Maera took in the serene beauty, the sun was momentarily blocked by a large shadow, followed by a distant, resounding thud. A grin spread across her face as she recognized the sound.

With the Maester's help, Maera settled onto the grass, her eyes scanning the sky. Moments later, Ēbrion, her giant dragon, came striding towards her, his deep roars echoing across the mountain range. His massive wings flapped once, sending a gust of wind that rustled the nearby trees.

Upon seeing the dragon, Maester Cain quickly retreated back to the carriage, his face pale with trepidation. "I will remain in the wheelhouse until you need me, Princess," he called, his voice trembling slightly. "To give you some privacy."

Maera couldn't help but giggle at his hasty retreat. She outstretched her arms and watched as Ēbrion approached, his blue and black scales shimmering in the sunlight. The dragon lowered his massive head, nuzzling against her ever-so softly. She ran her fingers over his warm, scaled skin, feeling a profound sense of relief and joy at being reunited with her mount.

After their initial greeting, Ēbrion curled up around Maera like a cat, his enormous body forming a protective circle. The contrast between their sizes was striking, akin to an elephant and a mouse, yet Maera felt the safest with her dragon. Their bond was unbreakable, and she knew without a doubt that he would never harm her.

Leaning back against his warm, scaled body, Maera sighed deeply. Her fingers danced along her belly, feeling the rhythmic kicks of her child. The gentle pressure of the baby’s movements brought a small smile to her lips. She missed soaring through the sky on Ēbrion’s back, the exhilarating freedom it brought. It felt almost as if she had wings of her own, cutting through the clouds and leaving her troubles far below. But for now, sitting together by the lake's edge, wrapped in the comfort of her dragon’s presence, would have to suffice.

As she sat there, the sun's rays filtering through the trees, Maera's thoughts wandered. Although she loved Ēbrion deeply, her visit to the Gods Eye wasn’t solely for their reunion. She had arranged to meet a small number of Harrenhall's residents outside the castle walls to discuss an urgent matter.

A simple horse and cart pulled up alongside the carriage Maera had ridden in, its wheels creaking as it came to a halt. Atop the cart, the Princess could see four guards, their expressions grim and apprehensive. Beside them sat Lord Unwin, his face stern, none of them looking particularly pleased.

While Maera had trusted Lord Unwin to handle the guards who had neglected their duty on the day she was attacked, she felt an overwhelming need to assert her own authority as Princess. It was not enough for a Lord to enact justice on her behalf; she needed to demonstrate her strength and resolve personally.

As the men approached with Lord Unwin leading the way, Ēbrion growled lowly, a deep rumble that resonated through the air. The dragon bared his teeth menacingly, his orange eyes narrowing with protective intent. The men’s footsteps faltered, their faces paling as they stared up in horror at the massive beast.

"Lykirī, Ēbrion," Be calm, Maera murmured, patting her dragon reassuringly. The growling subsided slightly, though the dragon's gaze remained fixed on the approaching group. Maera then turned her attention to the men, her voice firm and commanding. "You may approach," she beckoned, her green eyes unwavering.

With visible reluctance, the guards and Lord Unwin continued their approach, their movements cautious. Maera's presence, coupled with the looming figure of her dragon, left no room for doubt about who held authority here. The men stood before her, clearly intimidated but now fully aware of the gravity of their previous actions, or lack thereof.

Maera noticed the men varied in age and stature, all of them male relatives of the members of the war council at Harrenhall. Two were lower-ranking guards, evident by their basic armor and weapons. They were young in age, similar to Maera’s brothers Faran and Luthor, just a few years older than herself. Their eyes betrayed a mix of nervousness and guilt, fully aware of their transgressions.

One appeared to be an archer, with a large, noticeable bow and a bag of arrows attached to his back. He bore the orange and black sigil of House Peake on his chest, so Maera surmised that he must be the nephew of Lord Unwin. His stance was slightly more confident, yet there was an undercurrent of unease in his demeanor, his eyes flicking nervously to the towering form of Ēbrion.

The remaining guard appeared higher ranking, his armor meticulously polished, bearing the green and black sigil of House Vance. He was about the same age as Maera’s eldest brother, Guston. His face was stern, and his posture rigid, suggesting that he would not take kindly to being ordered around by a girl. His brown eyes were hard, revealing a man used to command and control.

Maera knew she would have to approach this assertively, yet diplomatically. The situation required a delicate balance of authority and tact to ensure her position was respected and her commands followed.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” the Princess began, her tone gentle yet firm. “I must apologize for the unusual location. I have not been outside for some time, nor have I been away from my mount for so long since I claimed him.”

Ēbrion trilled softly behind her, his presence a silent reminder of loyalty and protection. Maera affectionately patted his scales. “He is a loyal beast, my Ēbrion. I owe him so much, and just a few weeks ago, he saved my life. This is what I wish to discuss with you today.”

Turning her gaze to the guards, Maera noted their discomfort under the watchful eye of her dragon. “In your own words, pray tell me why you were not at your assigned postings when an attempt on my life was made by Alys Rivers,” Maera declared, her voice steady but commanding.

The men shifted uneasily, exchanging hesitant glances. Lord Unwin, growing impatient, interjected sharply, “Your Princess has just asked you a question, you fools.”

The archer, Lord Unwin's nephew, pushed the highest-ranking guard, a knight of House Vance, forward. He glared back at the others before stepping forward and nodding respectfully to Maera.

"State your name, Ser," Maera commanded.

"Ser Willard of House Vance, Princess," the knight replied.

"Do you speak for the men you command?" Maera asked, tilting her head slightly.

"I do," Ser Willard confirmed.

Maera leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. "Then please answer the question I asked."

The knight hesitated, glancing back at his comrades before turning his attention back to Maera. “I had known the witch for a long time. I knew what she was capable of… what she had done to your family in Morne.”

Maera winced at the memory, letting out a shaky exhale. No doubt Alys had boasted of her alleged power to anyone in the castle who would listen, and unfortunately, it looked like it had achieved its desired goal; that Alys would be known as a force to be reckoned with.

The Princess pictured her poor Aunt Viserra, Maera’s last link to her mother, who had been slain consumption, as well as her family. All at the order of Aemond, which caused Maera’s blood to boil. Her fingers clenched into fists, the sharp pain of her healing wounds a reminder of her recent ordeal.

“We did not know what she would do, Princess, I swear,” Ser Willard assured her.

But Maera found no comfort in his words. “I thought you said you knew what she was capable of?” Maera retorted sarcastically.

“She threatened us. She knew things about us that she should not have known. My wife, my daughters…” the knight trailed off, and Maera felt a pang of sympathy for the man in that moment.

The knight's voice trembled slightly when he spoke, his fear for his loved ones mirroring Maera's own fear for the child in her belly. Yet it was because of their fear that Maera and her child were at risk in the first place. The complexity of the situation settled heavily on her, a reminder of the constant balancing act she had to perform.

Clearing his throat, Ser Willard continued, “All she asked was that we leave our postings for an hour, so she could labor in peace in the lavender. So she could give birth to her son.”

Maera tensed her jaw. Mayhaps Alys had spouted lies about her supposed prophecy as well. That her son and Maera’s daughter would bring forth the Prince that was promised, this so-called ‘King of Kings.’ It was absolutely ludicrous how the men in Harrenhall, including her own stupid husband, had fallen prey to the witch’s words, without thinking about what Alys’s own personal gain from this would be.

The scenery at the Gods Eye provided a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. The water lapped gently against the stoney shore, creating a soothing, rhythmic sound. A soft breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees, and the sunlight shimmered on the lake's surface, casting a golden glow, a similar colour to the flames at had been launched out of Ēbrion’s mouth upon Maera’s orders.

The Princess fixed her forest green eyes on the knight with determination, as she declared, “And yet the witch is gone, Ser.”

Ēbrion craned his neck, bringing his snout close to Maera’s body. She petted the beast lovingly before ominously warning the knight, “For you see, the threat to life does not lie within foresight or words of prophecy. It is here,” she declared, gesturing to her dragon, who growled lowly, his gigantic teeth showcasing a potential fate to those who crossed his rider.

The knight seemed taken aback, stepping backward slightly as he gazed up at the Princess’s dragon, fear in his eyes. “We were fools, Princess. Men led by fear, and we are ashamed to have been so reckless,” he said shakily, his eyes still fixated on Ēbrion. “Please, we ask for your forgiveness.”

In the past, Maera would have walked a different path. She would have forgiven the guards for their lack of action, trusting them to fulfill their duties and keep her safe. But time and time again, the allies around her had not prioritized her needs, much like her husband. Now, she needed to prove she was not to be crossed.

The Princess glanced sideways at Lord Unwin, his orange and black attire standing out against the mountain range backdrop. He had been mostly silent during the meeting but had watched her every move, following her lead as she chastised the men. She grinned at him before addressing the guards.

“A friend told me recently that not only do I have the Mother’s mercy, but I also have her strength,” Maera declared, before looking down at her huge stomach lovingly. “I admit, carrying my child has induced a ruthlessness within me that I did not know I possessed.” For Maera, a mother's love for her child was like nothing else in the world. It knew no law, no pity, no forgiveness. It defied all logic and crushed down remorselessly all that stood in its path.

Her gaze flicked up to the men, and her expression hardened as she looked each of them in the eye. “You may count yourselves lucky that my husband is not here. I daresay you all would be in Vhagar’s stomach by now.”

As idiotic as the one-eyed Prince had been, Maera knew one thing about her husband: he was merciless. Such a lapse in security and disregard for their duties would have resulted in death for all those who had deserted their post, and he would not have lost a wink of sleep over it. Aemond's cold pragmatism and ruthless nature had always been his way of ensuring loyalty through fear, and he wielded that fear with a deft hand.

Despite this, Maera did not feel such an act of brutality was necessary... yet. Putting the guards to death meant fewer bodies on the war front, weakening their defenses. Moreover, such an act would send a clear message to those who supported the Greens, potentially driving them to flock to the Blacks in retaliation. The realm was already teetering on the brink, and she did not wish to push it over the edge with reckless cruelty.

The Princess shifted with a groan in her seated position on the grass, uncomfortable from sitting still for long. Ēbrion raised his head, his mouth opening slightly as he let out a puff of smoke, causing Maera to stroke his scaled hide reassuringly.

“Therefore, I will give you all a choice, rooted in honor and allowing you to keep your integrity as knights and guards.”

The men exchanged confused glances at Maera’s words before watching her grab onto one of her dragon’s scales and pulling herself up from the grass slowly. Ser Willard and Lord Unwin stepped forward, offering their hands of assistance, but she refused. Determination flashed in her eyes as she braced herself against the dragon's warm, sturdy scales.

Pain surged through her body. The freshly healed wounds on her arm and thigh burned as she pushed herself up, and the weight of the babe in her stomach felt like a leaden anchor pulling her down. Her muscles trembled with the effort, and she gritted her teeth, willing herself to stand.

Eventually, with sheer determination, Maera stood, holding onto Ebrion for balance. She was breathing heavily, her face slick with sweat, and every nerve in her body seemed to scream in protest. Yet, she did it. She stood tall, a silent testament to her resolve and strength, despite the pain coursing through her.

After taking a steadying few breaths, she looked at each of the guards, one by one, before pressing on. “Swear your oath anew to House Targaryen and your King Aegon, second of his name, to protect and serve his kin, the Princes and Princesses of the blood.”

Ebrion leaned forward sharply with a growl, causing the men to jump, their eyes wide with horror, their breathing becoming rapid. The dragon's immense presence, combined with Maera's stern demeanor, created a palpable tension in the air. The knights could feel the ground tremble slightly beneath Ebrion's massive weight, and the sheer power emanating from the beast was enough to make their knees weak.

“Or,” Maera continued, “if you feel cowardice and fear will rule your ability to fulfill your duties, declare it now. And you will have a quick and honorable death.”

The beast opened his mouth, a fireball forming slowly in the back of his throat. The sight was terrifying, the heat radiating off the forming inferno making the air around them shimmer. It was as if the dragon's thoughts were synced with those of his rider, reflecting Maera's anger and determination. The glowing embers within the dragon's maw cast an eerie light on the faces of the men, highlighting their fear and desperation.

“However, if you choose deceit, declaring yourselves loyal now only to crumble and submit to the pressures of your duties, putting myself or my family in danger,” Maera paused, looking up at her dragon, then back at the men. “Know you will die. Screaming.”

The guards' faces paled as they realized the gravity of their choices. They could feel the weight of their mistakes bearing down on them, the threat of imminent death a very real possibility. One by one, they knelt before Maera and Ebrion, heads bowed in submission. Their bodies shook slightly, and the stony ground beneath them felt cold and unforgiving.

The silence was heavy, the only sound being the low, menacing growl of Ebrion and the crackling of the fireball in his throat. Maera looked down at them, her expression stern and unyielding. She had their attention, their fear, and their submission.

The Princess sighed, her expression softening slightly as she knew she had won the men’s respect. “Rise now and remember your oaths.”

She looked at the men before her as they stood, their faces a mix of fear and hope. They had families, loved ones, and a cause they believed in. Their mistake had put her and her child at risk, but they were still assets in the war they were fighting. Maera knew she had to find a balance between asserting her authority and maintaining their loyalty.

“Let this be a new beginning, and may you never forget the consequences of breaking your word.”

Each of the men bowed respectfully, their movements hurried and jittery as they made their way back to the horse and cart that had brought them there. They were eager to leave the presence of the fearsome dragon and the Princess who had so sternly chastised them. The sound of their hurried steps and the clatter of armor filled the air as they mounted the cart and quickly urged the horse away.

As the men departed, Maera exhaled deeply and leaned back against Ebrion, the strength to hold herself up any longer waning. The adrenaline that had sustained her was ebbing away, replaced by a wave of exhaustion. After steadying her breathing, she turned and looked up at Lord Unwin, who was staring her with concern.

“Do you think I was too harsh on them?” She asked earnestly, taking a few more deep breaths.

“Not at all, Princess,” the Peake lord reassured her. “It is about time that those idiots learned that abandoning your duties have consequences.” Lord Unwin then chuckled to himself. “I think it is wise that you were the one to deliver the warning, Princess.”

Maera raised her brow. “How so, my Lord?”

“Well,” he began. “As terrifying as I can be, I am nowhere near as terrifying as someone with a dragon at their disposal.”

The Princess giggled, not noticing how the Maester had departed from their carriage and was striding towards them, the chains on his body clinking as he walked.

“May I suggest we return to Harrenhall, Princess?” The older man asked. “We do not want you overexerting yourself.”

Maera had no more energy to argue and nodded in defeat. Maester Cain and Lord Unwin each offered an arm to Maera, supporting her limping form as they guided her back to the carriage. Her legs felt heavy, her wounds aching with each step. She was grateful for their support, though she resented the weakness that necessitated it.

As she walked away, she turned to see Ebrion preparing for flight. The dragon flapped his gigantic blue and black wings, the powerful beats stirring up dust and leaves around him. With a final, majestic leap, Ebrion soared into the sky, his roars echoing across the valley as he disappeared into the horizon.

Maera watched him until he was a distant speck in the sky, a pang of longing in her heart. She missed the freedom of flying with him, the feeling of leaving all her troubles behind. But for now, she had to return to the confines of Harrenhal, her mind already grappling with the many more battles that had yet to be fought.

Notes: Floriography girlies I’m looking at you 👀 also is it just me or did Maera fucking EAT this chapter? She is literally fed up of everyone’s shit at this point 🤣

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy @kckt88

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

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