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flowerandblood · 2 months

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White Marriage (2)

[ Kingdom of Heaven • King Baldwin x female ]

[ warnings: fingering, virginity loss, sex content, poetic smut, angst, a detailed description of the deadly disease and the unpleasant symptoms associated with it ]

[ description: After their nuptials, the court becomes even more divided. The King, however, wishes to spend the last years of his life experiencing the joys he finds in the closeness of his wife. His bride was never to lose her maidenhood, however, is what the King has proclaimed to his subjects what he really craves? ]

Author’s Note: After the warm reception of the first part, which I didn't expect at all, here is the second part of their story! I have to admit that I had a great time writing it and I love them. I tried to leave some realism and not forget about his illness and the fact that it is contagious.

Part Two of Paradise Fruit. Can be read as a standalone story.

Word count: 4.600

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

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Their nuptials were humble – apart from the Archbishop, who gave them his blessing, uniting them for eternity, they were accompanied only by Sibylla and her husband, enraged, thinking that the King was just fulfilling his sneaky plan.

He truly believed that he would have exposed her to such danger, condemning her to the cruel disease that tormented his members to try to beget an heir.

She was grateful to her Princess for lending her one of her beautiful, gold-embellished robes that day – Sibylla knew what purpose this marriage was intended to serve and that it would not change the order of succession.

She was to be his comfort, a moment of relief and solace, nothing more.

Nevertheless, she smiled, feeling happiness filling her heart, her king's gaze tender and full of affection, from which she felt warmth in her chest.

She thought that she had fallen in love with him.

Their marriage was announced to all and sundry, and she became a king's wife, but not a queen.

She was not bothered by this.

She was assigned a chamber right next to his – she could now visit him whenever she wished and did not have to worry about the King's honour.

As she walked into his quarters, clad only in a thin night robe, a smile of happiness adorned her face. Baldwin, though tired, also seemed pleased and rose at the sight of her.

"Wife." He said, entwining his hands behind his back.

His figure was all clad in white as usual, though the material of his wardrobe seemed thicker to her, a silver mask on his face.

To her surprise she noticed that his gloves were black, apparently made of leather.

She bowed to him, recognising that she was not intending to think about it now.

"My King. My husband. You are the man of your word." She whispered warmly, looking up at him from above her long lashes, feeling a pleasant tickle in her lower abdomen meeting his gaze, hot and dark.

"I am." He replied. "I couldn't deny myself this pleasure. It was an act of my selfishness, not my greatness."

She blinked, cocking her head, feeling for some reason amused by his words.

"Does it matter now?" She asked lightly – something flashed across his gaze, she thought he smiled.

"No. Not in the slightest."

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his orders – he had announced that because of his disease he would not take her maidenhood and their marriage would be white, however, after what had gone on between them earlier, she did not think her husband would want to remain an ascetic in every aspect.

"Let me see you." He said finally, his voice like a sigh.

She knew what he meant, she knew what he wanted – she could see it in his gaze. Her hands rose to the small knot above her breasts, untying it, slipping the thin material of her nightgown off her shoulders in a light, gentle motion, remaining bare before him.

She shuddered, feeling the chill of the chamber surround her body despite the flames burning in the fireplace beside her, her lips parted as she noticed her king's gaze shift, misty and filled with a familiar, hot desire.

For a moment he looked at her with his head tilted, as if he was simply admiring her, nothing more.

"My physicians have said that the leather material, as opposed to linen, will ensure that you are protected from the touch of my bare skin and what it may cause." He said, tentatively extending his hand to her, and she felt her heart thump harder in her chest with joy.

She could touch him.

They both drew in a loud breath as she placed her fingers on his palm, letting him pull her a little closer, the spot between her thighs all swollen with desire, slowly growing moist with her wetness.

Her lips parted with her gasp of surprise as his other hand touched her cheek – she snuggled her face into it, placing affectionate kisses of her lips on it.

"I would give all the treasures of this chamber, my possessions and my gold coins to feel the taste of your lips on mine." He gasped, looking at her as if she were a precious jewel, a spring water that quenches thirst, an olive tree that feeds whole nations.

She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the sizzling fire and their hitched breaths as his thumb ran over her full, lower lip. She parted it before him and let him slide it deeper, between her teeth. Her lips clamped slowly around his finger, looking up at him with desire as she began to suck.

A low groan escaped his throat at the sight, clearly imagining that he was forcing something completely different down her throat.

He placed his other hand on her back, at the same time pulling her closer and holding her at arm's length, apparently afraid that even his breath was dangerous to her, possibly dooming her to his fate.

She moaned when he gave in, when his mask pressed against her forehead, his eyelids all red around his bright pupils.

"– forgive me –"

She didn't know why his words, filled with so much sadness and desire, made her throw her hands on his shoulders, her lips clinging greedily to the unpleasantly cold, silver structure of his mask.

She closed her eyes, hearing his gasp of surprise, placing lingering, hot kisses full of her saliva and tongue on the surface of it, imagining he was able to feel it, his hands sinking into her hair.

"– touch me, husband – I crave you –" She mewled helplessly, running her hands over the material beneath which was his head, his hair, his jaw and neck.

She squealed when he lifted her suddenly by her buttocks, the quiet hiss that escaped his lips made her understand that this sudden movement must have caused him pain.

She stroked the back of his head as he moved towards his bed with his face nestled between her breasts, not wanting to show him any sympathy now that he wanted to be a strong man in her eyes.

He let out a breath as he laid her down on the soft sheets, his gaze full of tenderness as he looked at her face.

"– lie on your stomach and spread your thighs –" He said calmly and gently, however, something in his words and their undertone made her feel a heat in her lower abdomen and a wonderful tickling sensation.

She obeyed his command immediately, feeling her legs become stiff as he caught her around the waist and lifted her hips, forcing her to buck her buttocks in front of him in a shameless manner.

She heard his heavy breath as he positioned himself behind her on his knees, running his leather-gloved hands over the soft skin of her buttocks, herself panting hard, knowing where he was looking now.

"– the reason why Paris abducted Helen of Troy – the cause of the downfall and delight of all mankind locked deep between my wife's thighs –" He whispered in such a sensual way that she moaned pathetically, clenching her eyelids as his thumb ran over her leaking, throbbing womanhood.

Apparently he liked the sound she made, because one of his hands slid into her hair, holding her in place, reassuring him that she wouldn't take advantage of his weakness and try to expose him in an act of pleasure, endangering him and herself.

"– lie still – shhhh, my love –" He whispered, hearing her innocent cry of desperation as his fingers began to trail around her oversensitive, swollen bud, waves of tingling and tickling sensations spreading through her body dulling her mind, causing her to emit uncontrollable sounds.

She could hear him panting as she watched what he was doing to her, his fingers digging into her delicate folds with a loud click of her wetness, barely teasing her – her hips began to roll back and forth, responding to his treatments, trying to find a better source of rubbing.

"– have mercy on me –" She mumbled with difficulty, her lips parted wide in a girlish moan when, at her request, the tip of his middle finger burst into her fleshy, hot interior.

The experience was at once full of discomfort and delight – at first the material of his glove was cold, but in time her body temperature enveloped him with its heat.

"– God – so warm –" He whispered in a voice trembling with emotion, in some involuntary, primitive reflex forcing her to take his finger deeper inside her, meeting resistance.

"– yes or no –" He breathed out, making her gasp.

Yes or no.

She froze, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, knowing that he had lied: he had only declared their marriage as white so that after his death his sister's husband would not attempt to kill her out of fear that she might be carrying his heir.

The future King.

"– yes –"

Her fingers clenched on the fabric of the sheet beneath her as he pierced something inside her in one aggressive motion, along with her squeal taking her maidenhood.

She began to wriggle under him with sweet whimpers of delight as his first finger was joined by a second, opening her wide for him only to fuck her before his eyes.

Tears of pleasure and shock ran down her cheeks as she moaned like a mere whore, spreading her thighs wider, his fingers thicker and longer than hers, stretching her so wonderfully.

"– please –" She whimpered, responding with her hips to each thrust of his hand, the tips of his fingers hitting the sweet spot deep inside her with startling precision again and again, while his thumb teased her little pearl between her folds with reluctance.

She bucked up more, panting loudly along with him, feeling the drops of her own wetness begin to run down her thighs one by one, soaking his hand, the fingers of his free palm clenched in her hair.

"– go on – please your King –" He commanded in a low voice from which her weeping cunt clenched around his fingers in convulsions of ecstasy, the sweet, stupefying pleasure making her cry out loudly, her legs bent at the knees quivering all over from the exertion.

"– a-ah –" She mumbled out, her face red with emotion as her body shook with a fulfilment so strong that her leaking, hot walls began to simply suck him inside. He felt it and moaned in a boyish manner, stopping moving, keeping his two fingers slipped deep into her body, just wanting to feel how it pulsed around them.

"– yes – just like that – easy now – easy –" He praised her, slowly sliding them out of her, and she swallowed hard, letting her body fall back onto the bed, panting loudly.

She sighed as he turned her onto her back and spread her thighs, looking at her with eyes black with desire, his hand slipped under the material of his robe.

Only then did she notice that his garment had a slit in the area underneath where his manhood was.

Although he had not allowed her to look at it then, now that he had grasped it in his hand and directed it at her throbbing womanhood, she saw the fat, pink head of it, dripping with his desire.

His hand clamped down on her soft breast, careful, however, not to cause her pain as he began to squeeze his swollen erection in his palm, with sharp, aggressive strokes from the very base to the tip chasing his fulfilment.

She moaned innocently, surprised, tilting her head back as his thumb ran over her hard, sensitive nipple, playing with it, something like satisfaction flashed through his gaze when he saw that this kind of touch was giving her pleasure.

"– my wife is so eager – so devoted to her poor husband – hm? –" He gasped, his breathing heavy as he accelerated, already squeezing only the base of his manhood, rocking his hips back and forth, struggling to restrain himself from opening her up, from sinking into her, from feeling her.

She rolled her hips forward encouragingly, rubbing her moist cunt against the thick head of his erection, drawing a low, almost animalistic groan from his throat, his silhouette moving slightly away.

"– no –" He growled with pain and anger, involuntarily returning again and again to her warmth, letting the tip of it push against her swollen, thirsty slit.

"– please, my King – put inside me –" She begged, but he shook his head and simply came with a loud moan of pleasure, his pearly, sticky spend spewing onto her womanhood.

He stared at this shameless sight, his head bowed low, his breath heavy as if he had just accomplished some heroic feat.

"– you need to bathe in hot water – immediately – dress yourself, I'll call the servants –" He exclaimed, rising abruptly from the bed, covering his manhood back with his robe, wiping his hand sticky with her wetness into its material.

She stood up quickly, horrified that he was surely angry with her for not listening to him, hastily dressing her nightgown over her shoulders, bursting into sobs.

"– forgive me, my King – forgive me, do not send me away –" She begged, but he did not listen to her, ordering his servant to immediately bring the tub into his chamber and fill it with hot water.

Although it slightly burned her skin when she stepped inside, her husband-king explained that the heat killed whatever was spreading his disease, and the oils and herbs that were thrown in were to prevent any other infections.

She looked at him with big eyes as he sat beside her, dipping his leather-gloved hand into the water along with a piece of cloth, sinking it then between her thighs, making sure not a single drop of his seed remained on it.

"– will you forgive me, my beloved? –" She muttered pleadingly, watching his face. He looked at her with a chastising look and sighed heavily.

"– it is I who should beg your forgiveness – I have allowed myself to be carried away by my desires, which have suppressed my reason – do not fear, it will not happen again – after your bath you will return to your chamber and will no longer visit me in the evenings –" He said calmly, looking away.

Her heart stopped in her throat, her brow arching in pain and disbelief at his words.

"Are you sending me away?" She muttered with difficulty. He looked at her, surprised apparently by her question and reaction, his hand froze in mid-motion.

"You can't sleep here because I am here. My breath, my proximity are deadly. I am exposing you even now. Before sleep, my physicians pull off most of the fabric that covers my body. I will never let you see this." He said and swallowed hard, seeing as tears one by one began to run down her cheeks.

"You break my heart. At least let my bed be placed next to yours. Drape it with curtains so that I may not see you or your body at night, but that I may at least hear your voice, hear your presence in the same chamber." She said pleadingly, touching his beautiful silver mask with her hand, his gaze tired and sad, filled with pain.

He hesitated.

"The chamber is not locked. Place my bed by the windows, by the fresh air. Do not condemn me to solitude, show me mercy, my King." She whispered, once again placing a kiss on his mask, on his cold, silver lips, his sigh testifying that he pressed his lips on the other side, reciprocating her caress.

"You are my doom."

At his command, her bed was moved to his chamber, raising voices full of resentment from some of the monks and priests, commenting on the fact that her maidenhood might be called into question.

"White marriage, to my knowledge, does not mean that husband and wife live separately. On the contrary, we should indulge in prayers together and be each other's comfort by day and night."

Honour Knights and Lords were concerned about what kind of comfort his little wife was to him.

Each day, the physicians sent by King Saladin checked the condition of her body and whether there were any signs of infection – her husband watched it from the sidelines in horror, relief in his gaze each time he heard from their lips that his wife was in good health.

However, taking advantage of the fact that the King had left the chamber after her examination, returning to his duties, one of his medics approached her, pale.

"My Lady. Spending so much time in the King's company, you will certainly contract his disease. Often its first symptoms do not appear until years after infection. It is possible that it is already too late." He muttered, bowing before her.

She swallowed loudly, looking at him calmly, feeling discomfort in her stomach.

"Would my husband live to see the time when the first symptoms could be apparent? If it turned out I was infected." She mumbled, and he shook his head.

"No, my Lady."

She smiled at his words and nodded.

"Thank you. Assure my King that I am well and can abide with him as before."

The man looked at her, in his eyes disbelief but at the same time a kind of admiration, compassion and warmth from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

"My Lady."

The days in Jerusalem were often sunny and hot, and as her husband rejoiced at the sight of her bare body, she walked around his chambers naked, feeling like a Greek goddess, Aphrodite or Artemis.

She would read old volumes, play the lute or embroider while spreading out comfortably on large cushions so that he could see her, and he would admire her from afar like a nymph.

"– my wife is like a fruit of paradise – like a goddess born of the sea foam –" He murmured, looking at her contentedly, bent over the dozens of parchments spread out on his table.

The servants knew that they could not enter his quarters without permission, for although he was gentle and affectionate in his manner, he did not wish to share this shameless sight with anyone.

However, what most of their days consisted of were conversations.

Her husband was a great speaker – they were discussing the Bible, faith, philosophy, poetry, art, war and history for long hours.

At nights, when he couldn't sleep from his pain, hearing his sighs and quiet moans that he tried to suppress for her sake, she would ask him questions.

She couldn't touch his hands or embrace him – his body needed rest, to breathe to keep from rotting and for at least a few hours a day it was supposed to be uncovered.

"Christ says to the adulteress: go and sin no more. However, he knows, as God incarnate, that this is not his command, but a recommendation. Sin is the fatal disease of every human being and we all sin in thought, in speech, in deed, in neglect. This is no reason to be sad. Christ is merely saying: live in such a way as not to cause yourself or others suffering, try to live with dignity, in harmony with yourself and your Father in Heaven."

"Is it known what happened to her afterwards?" She asked quietly, looking at his silhouette, seeing only its outline on the other side of his bed.

"Some identify her with Mary Magdalene or Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. But it could also have been a person not mentioned by name in the Gospel. She certainly followed Christ and became one of his disciples." He said, his voice clearer without his mask, calm and soft.

"Do you think God considers me an adulteress?" She asked in a trembling voice and heard him shift restlessly in his bed.

"Why should such an unjust and harsh judgment fall on my wife? Because she is devoted to me with her soul, heart and body? Haven't you done everything I asked of you and even more? You are as pure as the sheet I lie on, as the delicate fabrics I wear on my skin. Your beauty makes me even more aware of my ugliness." He whispered with pain that made her swallow hard, shocked by his words.

"To me, you are the most beautiful of men. Before I met you, I swore to God that I would never marry, that I would not share Sibylla's fate. He showed me mercy, filling my heart with a burning feeling for you, my beloved."

He was silent, but she heard him exhale loudly, his trembling sigh full of suffering.

He cried.

"If only you could look at my face, see what a disgusting caricature of a human I am, you would understand what a great mistake you made." He howled, choking on his own tears, clearly letting out what had been weighing on his heart for weeks.

The fear that if she accidentally saw his face, she would scream in terror and run away.

"Is your faith in me so weak? I hoped you think of me with respect." She mumbled, heartbroken, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

She heard him swallow hard at her words, clearly terrified that he had offended her.

"I do, my love. Forgive me."

"I fell in love with a human, not an earthly shell." She said, but he didn't answer her.

She watched the silhouette of her husband and his physicians each evening through the curtains, seeing them only as through a fog in the candlelight, their shadows dancing around her.

She could hear his hisses and cries of pain as they treated his wounds, see the outline of his head, always with his back turned to her.

When they were finally left alone and he lay down on his bed, she heard his sigh of relief, his face, though she couldn't see it, turned towards her.

"My sweetest?" He whispered, and she smiled warmly, feeling a wonderful delight in her heart every time he called her that.

"I'm here, my love." She murmured, twisting comfortably in her bed.

"I desire you."

She swallowed hard, feeling her warm womanhood throb around nothing.

"I desire you too, my beloved."

They were both silent for a long moment, the tension around them palpable in the air.

"– one of my physicians –" He began in a trembling voice. "– at my request, he created something that I can – put on my length so as not to touch you directly – from what I understand, he made it from the intestine of some animal and disinfected it – he assured me that it would be safe for both of us, but –"

"– yes –" She muttered, feeling her heart begin to pound like crazy at the thought that he wanted to do this to her.

"– you know it's a risk –" He said, his voice quivering with longing, the shadow of his silhouette turned towards her.

"– I knew it from the very beginning – I don't care what happens to my body – I just want to feel my beloved husband inside me –" She whispered with embarrassment and that seemed to be enough for him.

She heard him stand up, quickly putting the cloth and mask over his head as he appeared on the other side, beside her bed, looking as he usually did – the same black leather gloves on his hands, his fingers clenched on a small wooden box.

"– undress –" He commanded, and she did so, literally ripping off herself her nightgown, laying down on her stomach.

His silhouette was instantly next her, kneeling behind her buttocks, his breath hitched and quickened when she heard the rustling of something and another strange, sticky sound.

After a moment, his fingers tentatively and gently ran over her swollen, pink folds, collecting her wetness, which had already managed to trickle down her thigh.

"– no other treatments are needed – my sweet wife is leaking like a forest stream –" He hummed with delight and admiration, she felt her cheeks blush with embarrassment.

They both sighed as she felt something thick and hard begin to push against her puffy slit, opening her wide – despite her lack of preparation her cunt pulsed in delight, moist with desire.

The feeling of him deep inside her, so intense and definitive, of how hard his long, thick erection stretched her fleshy walls was shockingly pleasurable and terrifying at the same time, as if her body no longer belonged to her.

"– yes, yes, yes –" She mewled as she felt his hands clamp down on her buttocks, spreading them apart as if he were tearing a piece of fruit, another determined thrust of his hips sinking him completely into her hot core with their moans of pleasure.

"– fuck –"

She wasn't sure if he had ever cursed before, but then, as his hips immediately began to pound into her with loud slaps, nothing more than their panting, grunts and words insulting to God left his mouth.

"– we'll do it frequently – so that you can remember this feeling well – your husband deep inside your warmth –" He exhaled in a way from which her little cunt began to squeeze him greedily, sucking his erection inside, her lips parted wide in a loud, helpless whines of pleasure so strong that she had to close her eyes, her hands clenched on the bedding.

His gloved fingers dug into the delicate structure of her hips, imposing a more aggressive pace on her, his fat manhood bursting deep between her fleshy walls without slipping out of her, hitting again and again her sweet little spot.

"– yes – yes, I love you, I love you, I love you, please –" She cried out, feeling the tension in her silky womanhood reach its zenith, the pleasant tingling in her belly testifying to the fact that she was about to reach her peak with him and dreamed of nothing else.

He moaned low, slamming into her like mad, feeling her weeping core clench around his twitching length more and more, his manhood hard as a rock with desire.

"– G-God – oh, fuck, yes, yes, my sweetest, let me, ah –" He gasped in delight, coming deep inside her, filling the thin material overlying his manhood with his release.

Her eyes closed and her mouth parted wide as her peak came down on her like a thunderbolt, shaking her body with convulsions of delicious delight.

They both moaned and panted, rocking their hips for a moment more with the loud click of her slick cunt, his hands soothingly kneading the skin of her buttocks.

"– I will order more of this to be prepared – so that I can fulfil my marital duty every night –" He sighed with satisfaction.

She involuntarily smiled under her breath, looking up at him over her shoulder, the moonlight shining outside the window reflected in his mask.

"– what kind of white marriage is this? –" She asked teasingly, rolling her hips, feeling his half-soft manhood pulsate inside her again.

"– our kind – do not fret – I will explain it to God once I am before him – I will tell him that I loved my wife too much –"

_____

Author's note: Between their wedding day and this next act, weeks actually pass during which he doesn't touch her (she mentions the days spent in his company and how she is examined every day, how he watches her naked, but apart from that nothing happens between them). He is afraid that if he tries to touch her again, he won't hold back (he had already had difficulty not taking her on their wedding night), so he tried to think of something so as not to touch her directly with his manhood. Their intimacy is an act of their desperation, the pain of knowing that their marriage will last a year or two at most. The desire to touch her and feel her is as strong in him as the desire to protect her and push her away. Their love is tragic and complete to me, and she knows what she is risking (she knew from the very beginning).

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howcouldmuffin · 28 days

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First Choice IV

[ Chapter 4 : My Fate, My Choice ]

Born a princess, freedom eluded you, and choices were never yours to make. Yet now, your destiny rests in your own hands.

WARNING : NSFW, Targaryen incest, Non-canon, SMUT, Sex Content

AN : I feel that my descriptive skills aren’t at their best right now, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to convey. Enjoy the read. Love.

CONTENTS : Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

You find that the daily life at Dragonstone bears a curious resemblance to your experiences in King’s Landing. You rise with the dawn, don your attire, and attend to the myriad duties within the castle walls. Though not as frenzied as the capital, the routine here is one you manage with ease, and its simplicity brings a certain satisfaction to your days.

On some occasions, Jace will take you upon Vermax, and together you traverse the boundless sky. The thrill of observing the world below from such heights, with the crisp air caressing your skin, offers a sense of freedom that the gilded cage crafted by your mother never could.

The sweeping expanse of water below is breathtakingly beautiful. As you gaze down from Jacearys’s back, held closely by Jace, you ponder whether the life of privilege behind the walls of the Red Keep, with its attendant duties of marriage and children, is truly what you desire.

“Is there anything special you would like to eat today?” Jacaerys’s voice brings you back to reality. “I shall instruct the servants to prepare it.”

“No, thank you.” you reply. “Let them busy themselves on another day.”

“Our wedding shall be the grandest affair in all the Seven Kingdoms, and every soul will be in attendance.” Jace declares as he guides you back to the castle. The mighty dragon, capable of bearing two, carries you swiftly through the air.

Soon, you find yourself seated before your vanity, the maid combing your hair. Her head bowed, she reminds you of a time when you, too, had been a young girl at a celebration with your family—something your mother once remarked upon, noting the beauty you possessed but struggled to wield.

“Lift your head, please.” you instruct the maid.

“Yes, Your Highness.” she replies, hesitating briefly before complying. Her youthful face is charming, and you offer her a reassuring smile, striving to ease her discomfort.

“I believe I have encountered you before.” you say. “The little girl in the red skirt.” You recall selecting her as a maid and her brother as a soldier for the castle. They had lost their mother to either disease or cruelty; you are uncertain.

“Do you remember, Your Highness?” Her face shows astonishment and disbelief, with tears beginning to form.

“Do not cry, I have no intention of reprimanding you.” you say, turning to face her. “The girl who clung to my skirt, her face stained with tears because her brother was departing.”

The tears flow freely now, and the maid’s hands tremble as she drops the comb. She remains as tearful as she was years ago. Rising from your seat, you gently wipe her tears away with a cloth.

“Now, tell me, how did you come to be here, Zia”

Regaining her composure, she recounts that after you had her brother join the castle guard, his skill and cleverness won him favor among the nobles, which improved their fortunes. When it became known that the princess’s personal maid was still needed, they hastened to request the position from Vidah, who granted their plea.

“Vidah should have informed me.” you muse. “Well, I shall rely on you. I can be quite particular.” You retrieve the comb she dropped and hand it back to her, resuming your seat at the vanity to continue her grooming.

“I am greatly honored to serve you, Your Highness.” she says, her hands working carefully through your hair. “Without your intervention, my brother and I might have been doomed to a life of servitude. My brother pledged that, given the chance, he would dedicate himself to the Queen. Whatever you require, we will do anything for you, Your Highness.”

You smile at the steadfast loyalty she and her brother offer. Ruling through fear may eventually lead to a more formidable ruler; maintaining loyalty is far more advantageous. You pause, reflecting on this thought, as the maid awaits your response.

“Is something troubling you, Your Highness?”

“You said that if I needed anything, you would fulfill it, did you not?” You turn to her. “Anything at all?”

“Even our lives, if it comes to that.” she replies earnestly.

The sound of the bedroom door closing reverberated through the stillness of the chamber as you sat engrossed in a book at the antique wooden desk. Your attention was absorbed by the delicate prose on the pages, and you barely noticed the figure entering the room. The atmosphere was thick with a sense of nostalgia and intimacy.

A soft, lingering kiss brushed against the nape of your neck, and a warm embrace enveloped you from behind. You felt the familiar presence of Jacearys, whose arms had become your sanctuary.

“What treasure are you lost in this evening, my love?” His voice was a gentle murmur as he settled into the chair beside you, his proximity radiating a comforting warmth.

“Just a novel of mundane adventures.” you replied, closing the book with a slight sigh and lifting your gaze to meet his. “Do you require anything of me?”

“I merely wished to see my betrothed.” he said with a smile that seemed to light up the dimly lit room. “May I?”

“Always.” you responded, placing the book aside and rising to draw the heavy velvet curtains, which filtered the moonlight into a soft, diffused glow. The room, bathed in a silvery luminescence, was now perfect for intimate conversation.

As you turned back, Jacearys stood so close that his presence seemed to envelop you entirely. His eyes, deep and mesmerizing, held an allure that made your heart quicken. His nose, sharp and regal, and his lips, full and inviting, formed a visage that seemed straight out of a bygone era.

At last, your lips met in a kiss that was both tender and consuming. Jacearys’s touch was gentle, his kiss an exploration that was neither hurried nor hesitant. The sweetness of his lips was intoxicating, a flavor so enchanting it felt as if you could easily become lost in it. The kiss deepened as you both savored the precious moments, exchanging affection with a fervor that seemed to transcend time.

“We should not indulge further.” you whispered, your breath mingling with his. “It would be scandalous if the maid were to discover us in such a state.”

“We are betrothed, and thus bound by no such constraints.” he replied, his voice carrying an undertone of playful defiance. “Yet, I shall wait with patient anticipation for the day when you are ready, ready to share your life with me.”

His words filled you with a profound joy, a flush of warmth spreading across your cheeks. With a soft smile, you leaned forward to place a gentle kiss upon his cheek. He paused, a glint of mischief in his eyes, before returning your smile with one of his own, both tender and teasing. The moment was so perfect that you found yourself reluctant to imagine anything beyond it.

“You should retire for the night, my princess.” he suggested with a loving tone.

“And you should take your rest as well, my prince.” you replied, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

“May I request the honor of sharing your bed?” Jacearys asked, his gaze earnest. “I long to hold you until the first light of dawn.” You considered his request for a moment, your thoughts drifting between anticipation and propriety.

“Yes.” you finally agreed, your voice soft and inviting. “But only for the purpose of cuddling.”

“By your command, my princess.” he responded with a grin that spoke of contentment. He lifted you effortlessly, his touch gentle as he placed you upon the grand, canopied bed. The quilt, rich and heavy with its intricate patterns, was drawn over you both as he settled in beside you.

Under the cover of the thick, warm blanket, you felt his embrace close around you. The world outside seemed to fade away as you nestled against him, the weight of his arms a reassuring presence. The room was filled with a serene tranquility as you both surrendered to the comfort of each other’s closeness, drifting into a restful slumber as if the night itself was a protective shroud, keeping you safe from all that lay beyond.

You find yourself in the vast and echoing kitchen of Dragonstone, a grand but unfamiliar space adorned with intricate tapestries and polished copperware. Despite the opulent surroundings, there is an intangible quality about the room, a subtle hint of its true owner that resonates with you. Having taken it upon yourself to prepare tonight’s meal for both the prince and yourself, you’ve decided to forego the usual bustle of the servants, wishing for an evening that is both intimate and personal.

Your skills in the culinary arts were honed under the meticulous guidance of Oliver, the head chef, who once admonished you with a half-hearted smile, "As a princess, you need not trouble yourself with such matters." Yet, your resolve was unwavering. You yearned to impress your mother with your cooking prowess, despite Oliver’s grumbling about how your insistence often interfered with the proper functioning of the kitchen.

As you meticulously arrange the ingredients and set about your task, the grand kitchen’s silence is broken by the entrance of Jacaerys. He strides in with a casual grace, his presence commanding attention. Leaning against the stone countertop, he casts a curious gaze over the assortment of fresh produce and exotic spices laid before you.

“I hear you are in the midst of culinary creations.” he says, his voice a blend of amusement and intrigue. “What feast do you plan to conjure for me this evening, my love?”

“Perhaps a succulent roast accompanied by a fine vintage of wine.” you reply, glancing up with a playful smile. The sight of his own smile, a beacon of warmth and affection, lights up the room and chases away the shadows of your apprehension. As you begin the labor of love that is meal preparation, Jacaerys offers his assistance, his eagerness evident in his frequent inquiries about how he might lend a hand. You allow him to partake in simpler tasks, finding his presence both a comforting and delightful addition to your culinary efforts.

The dining table is set with understated elegance, a reflection of your desire for simplicity rather than grandeur. Soft candlelight dances across the polished surface, casting a warm and inviting glow that enhances the romantic atmosphere. As you both settle into your seats, the conversation flows effortlessly, delving into reminiscences of days gone by, misunderstandings that once marred your relationship, and the myriad events that have shaped your journey together.

“I once believed you harbored ill feelings toward me, much like your brother.” Jacaerys muses, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “You avoided meeting my gaze, and I wondered if there was something I had done to offend.”

“That was not the case.” you respond with a chuckle. “Aemond was astute enough to perceive my secret admiration. I avoided his barbed comments by keeping my distance from you. Yet, despite my attempts at discretion, I could not help but watch you from afar.”

“It’s curious.” he says, his eyes meeting yours with a glimmer of vulnerability, “that while you were discreetly observing me, I was also watching you. I admired how you appeared to light up in Aemond’s presence, how you seemed to find joy in the simplest of moments.”

“There is an odd kinship between us.” you reflect, a hint of melancholy in your voice. “We share the burden of feeling misunderstood, of fighting for a freedom that often seems just out of reach. In our pursuit of it, we have learned to grasp at every opportunity, no matter how fleeting.”

He sets his spoon down with deliberate care, his gaze never leaving yours. With a gesture both tender and resolute, he reaches out, clasping your hand in his. The sincerity in his eyes surpasses the most extravagant words, his commitment to you clear in his every expression. “Tonight, as my wife, your freedom shall be secure. No force shall ever take it from you again.”

You place your own spoon aside and return his gesture, your fingers intertwining with his. The gentle caress of your thumb against his hand speaks volumes, your heart swelling with gratitude. Your smile, genuine and heartfelt, conveys the depth of your emotions—an affirmation of the life you are beginning together.

“Thank you, my prince.” you say softly, your voice imbued with heartfelt sincerity. “Your promise is a gift I have longed for, and it is more precious to me than any grand feast.”

You and Jacaerys are ensconced in the warmth of a lavish bath, the soft steam enveloping you both in a sensual embrace. The two of you are bare, the intimacy of the moment heightened by the way you lean back against his broad chest. Your hair is neatly pinned up, leaving your shoulders exposed to the gentle caress of his large hands as they trace soothing circles along your skin. His lips graze the back of your neck, your shoulders, and your cheeks, creating a cascade of tender kisses that leave you shivering with delight.

“I am so happy to be living this life with you, my prince.” you whisper, your voice filled with genuine affection.

“I am happy too.” he murmurs close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “And we shall be happy together forever.”

“Though it may sound selfish, I can’t bear the thought of returning to King’s Landing.” you confess. “I want to stay here with you, where it’s just us.”

“My princess is becoming a bit spoiled.” he teases with a chuckle. “First, we must be wed, and only then can we truly live the free life we desire.”

You don’t quite agree with the practicalities of his statement. Shifting in the water, you turn to face him, your eyes locking with his. You lean in slowly, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss. The connection is magnetic, the way your bodies seem drawn together is palpable. But this time, it is he who pulls away first.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks, his voice laden with a mix of concern and desire.

You nod firmly, your gaze unwavering. “I am sure.”

Without another word, Jacaerys closes the distance between you with a sudden, impassioned kiss. This time, the intensity of the moment is heightened, a fervor that feels almost like riding a dragon in its thrill. He deepens the kiss, then begins to explore the contours of your neck with his lips. The delicate blush of his kisses leaves a trail of warmth across your skin, each touch a testament to the profound connection between you.

As the bath's gentle warmth continues to surround you, you lose yourself in the sensation of his touch, your bodies intertwined in a dance of love and longing, creating a symphony of intimacy that feels both timeless and entirely your own.

In the steamy, dimly lit bathroom, the mood between you and Jacaerys is electric with anticipation. The air is thick with the intimate sounds of your breathing, the gentle splash of water, and the soft, muted noises of your kisses.

You feel the growing stiffness beneath you and instinctively begin to move your hips, gently rocking back and forth to create a slow, deliberate contact. The rhythm is intimate and sensual, each subtle motion amplifying the connection between you. The sounds of your kisses and the soft splashes of the water become louder, blending into a symphony of intimacy.

Jacaerys's mouth moves restlessly, expressing a deep-seated desire. He trails kisses along your body, his lips brushing and exploring every curve with fervent attention. His touch is tender but insistent, each caress a testament to the passion and longing that you both share in this secluded haven.

“Jace, I’m ready.”

"Be patient, my love." he responds, his tone tender yet commanding. He begins to use his fingers, sliding them slowly into you, which makes you lose your balance slightly. He lowers his head to your neck, his warm breath mixing with your soft whimpers and gasps, sending shivers across his skin.

His fingers move rhythmically in and out, his thumb grazing your clitoris, heightening your pleasure. The sensation is almost overwhelming, and you can feel his nails grazing your body, leaving a red mark as they press against him. Your hands reach up to his hair, tangling in the strands, pulling him closer, your grip gentle but insistent.

The intense sensation of his added finger and the deliberate strokes circling around

your clitoris nearly elicited a cry of pleasure. His tongue danced provocatively over the erect nipple on your chest, biting it gently. The sharp sting of his teeth was a delightful pain when it came from Jacaerys, adding an edge of pleasure to your experience.

"Now you're truly ready, my love." he murmured, withdrawing his fingers.

"Position yourself on me."

Obeying his command, you adjust yourself carefully, the rigid pressure of his desire urging you onward. You slowly lower yourself onto his erect shaft, the feeling of him filling you entirely is a blend of anticipation and satisfaction.

"Jace-" you moan softly, the bliss evident in your voice as you feel him fully enveloped inside you. He holds your hips with a firm, guiding grip, gently urging you to take all of him.

You manage to settle fully onto him, feeling the fullness of his size stretching you. The sensation is almost overwhelming, as if your body is being stretched to its limits.

Your inner walls tighten around him, desperately trying to adjust to his considerable girth. His hands gently cradle your face, his fingers tenderly brushing against your cheeks, his touch soothing as he removes the cloth binding your hair and tucks it behind your ears.

"If you're ready." he whispers near your ear, his breath warm and intimate, "you can begin to move."

You respond with a kiss, the moment filled with shared passion. As you start to move your hips up and down slowly, you feel the connection between you deepen. The rhythm you find is a blend of your efforts and his, each movement bringing a new wave of sensation. His hands leave your face, finding their place on your hips, guiding and controlling the pace with a firm yet gentle touch.

The initial discomfort of your first experience begins to transform into a pleasurable tingle, each stroke of his cock hitting your g-spot with precision as you glide up and down. The blend of pain and pleasure weaves together, heightening the joy and intensity of your shared moment.

The sounds of water gently sloshing in the bath, mingled with the soft echoes of your shared intimacy, create a symphony of passion in the dimly lit room. Outside, the maid might be oblivious to the intensity of the moment unfolding within, her routine entirely detached from the fervor within these walls.

But the distraction of external concerns is fleeting, as Jacarys draws your full attention back to him. Your hips move with an unpredictable rhythm, driven by the bliss of your union. The sensation of making love with him overwhelms you with a deep sense of fulfillment and joy.

"I feel so good, it's as if I'm close." he murmurs, his voice laden with satisfaction.

"Me too." you respond, your breath catching with the intensity of your feelings.

Your heart races, the tension building as your body tightens around him. The pleasure you're experiencing is intoxicating, your mind drifting away as the only focus becomes the insatiable need for him. In this moment, nothing else exists but the profound connection between you, a yearning that consumes every thought and sensation.

At last, the culmination of your shared passion arrives, and you both reach the peak of ecstasy simultaneously. The intensity of the moment sends waves of pleasure through you, leaving you utterly spent. As you collapse against him, your body feels languid and weak, enveloped in a profound sense of euphoria and relief. You feel his warmth and the intimate sensation of his release mingling within you, a tangible reminder of your union.

He cradles you gently, his embrace tender and reassuring amidst the afterglow. His voice, now softened by satisfaction, carries a hint of playful affection.

"It's time for bed, my wife." he murmurs, his tone a promise of quiet moments yet to come.

The warmth of his body and the comforting cadence of his voice invite you to relax into the serene closeness of your shared space, marking the end of a night filled with intense connection and unspoken promises for the future.

You find him resting in your arms, his slumber deep and tranquil, his breath a gentle rhythm against the night. The moon’s pale light spills through the draped windows, casting soft patterns upon his serene countenance. He will remain in this restful state for many hours, long enough for you to embark upon the vessel bound for Driftmark. Far from this place, far from him.

Throughout your time together, the prince has bared his soul to you with a candor that once warmed your heart. Yet, the solitude afforded by your present circumstances has bestowed upon you a rare clarity. In this quiet, you have come to discern your own desires, your own truth. Despite the love you hold for Jacaerys, you have realized that a life of queenship is not the destiny you seek. It is a mantle you never wished to don, regardless of the depth of your affection.

A gentle rap upon the door serves as the herald of your departure. With swift and measured motions, you ready yourself, your attire meticulously chosen for the journey ahead. Zia’s careful preparations have made your flight possible. You are poised to leave behind all that you know, to seek the freedom you have longed for.

You approach your husband one final time, a pang of sorrow in your heart. Bending low, you place a tender kiss upon his brow, a silent adieu to the man you once envisioned sharing your days with. His unawareness of your departure, induced by the powerful sleeping draught you secured, adds a poignant note to your resolve.

“You shall be the only husband I ever claim.” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion as you brush away the tears that have stained your cheeks. The gravity of your choice is profound, yet it is a path you must follow for your own peace and liberation.

Zia leads you through the grand corridors to the quay where a small, waiting boat is moored. Her brother stands ready, his manner respectful as Zia whispers final instructions. The air is thick with anticipation.

“Let us not tarry.” you urge, urgency in your tone. “Should we delay further, we risk discovery.”

“Thomas, attend to the princess’s safety with the utmost vigilance.” Zia commands her brother, who acknowledges with a nod.

“I shall fulfill my duty with the greatest care, Your Highness.” Thomas assures, his voice steadfast.

You board the modest vessel with a sense of purpose, accompanied by a handful of soldiers who, though unaware of your true identity, are tasked with ensuring a smooth escape. Their presence, albeit limited in number, should suffice to deter any potential hindrance.

As the boat sets forth, gliding silently away from Dragonstone, you cast a final glance at Zia’s retreating figure. The image of Jacaerys, his face a fixture in your memories, lingers in your thoughts. The life you leave behind is one not of your choosing but of circumstance. Yet, as you embrace the path of your own making, a sense of liberation accompanies the uncertainty.

In a life where you were often the second choice, never the foremost, you now make a decision wholly for yourself. The journey ahead is both exhilarating and fraught with apprehension, but it is yours to command. As the boat progresses toward Driftmark, you are filled with both trepidation and hope. For the first time, you are not merely following a course dictated by others but charting a path of your own.

Tomorrow, you will embark on a new chapter, one where you are the mistress of your own fate. The voyage has only just begun, but for the first time, you are in command of your destiny, casting aside the shadows of the past for the promise of a future of your own design.

As the past is immutable and beyond our reach to alter, one must inevitably decide what is truly desired. In the end, you have arrived at your own resolution. — [ END ]

tag list : @r3va-dwme @ladyofvelaryon @mckennah123 @ericasabe @yohanseyebrowmole @mah1644 @miksde @staarflowerr @tempo-rary-fix @melsunshine @chlmtfilms

#‧⁺◟ lyn writing table *•#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader

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msallurea · 1 year

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Things to manifest because you can pt 2 🎀🧁🌸

Becoming a top model

Sex appeal/pole dancer abilities

Be super strong/fast

Be a famous supermodel

Turning into a fairy on command

Having a fairy godmother/godfather

Being a mermaid/siren

Having your desired beauty

Ability to talk to nature/animals/being a natural bug repellant

Easily remembering trillions of info easily

Never ever failing at anything

Waking up with the perfect hairstyle/outfit

Being a master manifestor/shifter

Controlling time

Being able to grab stars out the sky and turn it to jewelry pieces

Making constellations move

Becoming a queen/king/princess/prince

Having perfect vision

Having magical abilities

Never being sick

Healing global warming

Healing worldwide diseases/sicknesses

Immunity to bullying, abuse, etc, others being immune to bullying abuse etc

Racism/colorism/misogyny/texturism/evil capitalism/negativity/war/slavery/abuse in power/terrible government n school systems/segregation/poverty/workd hunger/mass genocides/shootings/killings/generational trauma etc never existing/erased (my black and POC sisters and brothers in this LOA community baby it's time to stand up but generally just everyone we are all entitled to live in peace as human beings)

That's all folks, I love you darling stay tuned for more ♡ also I need more post ideas comment for any suggestions!

#law of assumption #manifesting #manifestation #neville goddard #affirm and persist

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sunshine-on-marz · 7 months

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Hi lovely could I please request for Spencer Reid where the reader is in the bau and is the only one who asks questions when Spencer starts rambling because she’s genuinely interested and one day Reid asks if she wants to go see a movie after she asked him about it and Derek is all teasing like you got a date pretty boy ? Thank you so much ❤️

Hi my love! Now I just adore this idea and I hope I do it justice! (Also, my sweets, I tried out something new with the writing style at the start, I'd love some feedback on that and the fic as a whole) warning: reader is called princess but gender isn't mentioned.

"I wanna hear"

Spencer Reid x Reader

Spencer Reid, ever the genius, is entirely clueless to social cues.

Oh good lord that boy just doesn't pick up on it!... is what you would say if you didn't adore his rambling tangents. Jesus, all of it is perfect. All of him is perfect. But, not everyone sees the beauty in art. apparently.

"Reid, thanks for that, anyways." Derek starts to cut Spencer's rambling off, you watch Spencer's face fall, and it's entirely heartbreaking. You gently grab his hand "Keep talking Spence" you smile and he looks confused. "really?" he asks, you nod. "yes, I wanna hear." you assure him as you clasp his hand between both of yours, his eyes light up. He rambles on about the connection between 8 different serial killers with a specific disease and how despite them never meeting their killings looked almost like copycats. In all honesty half the words are out of your vocabulary and the rest of them are spoken to fast for you to pick up on details, but you listen to every single sound that makes it past his lips, even if you don't process it all.

"so they never met? did they know about the other killers?" you ask, resting your chin on your hand and he shakes his head "no, they didn't know about each other until they were arrested" he answers. "Hm, that's really interesting spencer, like, that's super cool- well not cool but you know what I mean", he chuckles "Yea, I know what you mean."

You were smiling bright enough to light up a room as you ask your next question. "Do you want to hang out sometime? Like after work... just us?". He nods "I'd love that."

There's a small gasp through the bullpen after his response. You and Spencer look over and see the team eavesdropping.

"Pretty boy and the Princess are goin' out!" Derek cheers, the girls laugh and you and Spencer blush.

Its going to take a while for the teasing to stop, surely, but it's all worth it for Spencer.. at this point, you might call anything worth it if it's for Spencer.

It's short and sweet but I just adore this <3

@the-phantom-author - Who promised to hype me up

@thesockbehindthewashingmachine - Who will hype me up without a promise

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you

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katzilla108 · 1 month

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My beautiful princess with a disease

#my art #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi fanart #mithrun #dunmeshi mithrun #fanart

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mooncleaver · 2 years

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My Queen, My Sun and My Sea

talokan once had a queen. one who loved her people with all her heart—with the same heart she had given to her k'uk'ulkan for what felt like millennia ago. but they lost her to the hands of the enemy; it was a tragic tale painted on the walls of the king's mural, the pain searing itself onto his heart uninvited. he rules now with a darkened hole in his chest, fueled by the loss of his true love and a force to protect his people even more. after all, only the most broken people can be great leaders.

pairing: namor x fem!talokan!reader

warnings: bpwf spoilers!! death (i was lowkey evil for that), colonizers, inaccurate translations, nawt very proofread lol

El Niño Sin Amor.

That was a name that echoed deep inside Shuri's head, its bitter aftertaste lingering still; a piece of Namor that she'd just uncovered.

He was an enigma; a powerful being who rose from the sea, unannounced with his presence but has always been there, deep in the waters where he and his kingdom have flourished in the city of Talokan. He had just finished recounting about his and his people's origins, how the colonizers brought a disease that left his ancestors to drink a concoction from a vibranium-infused plant found in an underwater cave to save themselves, turning them into water-breathing individuals; the Talokanil.

She turned to Namor with many questions unanswered, only to see him staring at something with a look akin to pain and longing on one of the surfaces on his murals, caressing the painting with a gentleness she had yet to seen from the god.

She shifted to the side quietly, trying to see what he was gazing at. When Namor bowed his head, Shuri saw a painting of a woman beside his serpent, posing regally with what looked like a staff in her hand.

She wore a beautiful jade and gold headpiece, green and brown feathers lining the outer layer, fading in its design as if the light was shining on them. It towered atop her figure, framing her perfectly like she was always meant to be there. She was adorned in jewelry, from the large, circular green jade plugs that hung from her ears to the tessellated necklace that she wore—a striking amalgamation of gleaming silver beads, plated viridescent tiles to carved gold pendants and everything that complemented her beauty. The woman had a tan clothe wrapped around her body, washes of terracotta and hues of sage and cream woven in stripes on the fabric. She was covered in jewels—just like Namor.

One thing for sure, she must have been of royalty in Talokan. Or a goddess, perhaps. The corks in Shuri's head turned as she tried to figure out where the woman in the mural fit in Namor's story.

"Who is that?" Her question seemed to break him out of his reverie. She could see the way his body tensed at her question, and whether it was because she cut him out of his thoughts of because of what she asked, she didn't know.

It took a quiet moment before Namor answered, looking in deep contemplation with his eyebrows furrowed deeply and his eyes growing darker. The next thing he uttered was so full of emotion that it flooded through the sentence, his voice sounding thicker than blood.

"Leti' ka'ach in reina. My queen. In k'iino' ka, in k'áak'náabo'."

(She was my queen. My sun and my sea.)

For a second her words refused to make it out of her mouth. The Wakandan princess' mind didn't wonder to Namor having a queen.

The Namor now wasn't like the Namor she had met in the shores of her land with her mother. The Namor now felt like a broken man who would go the farthest lengths to protect his people. With every counting second of being in this underwater cave, Shuri seemed to discover more and more about the man, slowly laying bare the walls he had built around himself.

"Is she-"

"She was.. she was killed by surface dwellers." The god cut off, as if he couldn't bear to hear the words coming out from someone else's lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and Shuri felt the sea grow quiet for a split second. It was like it remembered their lost queen.

He took a deep breathe before speaking out and if one were to listen closely, they could hear the slight shakiness in his voice, like talking about this particular incident tore his wounds open again. "Years ago the surface dwellers tried to find Talokan. They were told of an underwater city filled with glittering gold and diamonds, with a palace of precious metals whose value exceeds all else."

"They are greedy, always taking and taking what is not theirs—beasts who ravage land with no mind of its consequences. She was there where the land met the waters along with the young ones, and those monsters crossed paths with them." Namor shook his head, disdain present in the way he moved his body and his words.

"The first thing they did they raised their weapons, pointing it at her when all she did was offer them her hands. She tried to speak to them, to negotiate with peace and kindness. But they are blinded with hatred." He spat that word out and Shuri almost flinched at his tone.

"With no mercy they killed her and the children. They took their lives as if it was nothing to them."

"When I emerged to the surface.. she was already dying."

One of your handmaids had been the one to inform him of the situation, barging into his mural room right when he got back from a trip with a growing panic in her eyes as she screamed in anguish, 'Le reina! Le reina!'

"I turned to those murderers and treated them with how they treated my wife and the children; I killed them with no mercy."

The feathered serpent god will never forget the possessing rage he felt when he saw what those killers did to his wife. Without a single doubt in his movements he flew towards them like a strike of lightning and sliced their heads off before they could even scream.

Something that would always haunt his dreams was seeing his beloved die in his arms, unable to do anything, running out of time.

Sometimes, if the K'uk'ulkan thought too much about it, he could still feel the way he held you in his arms, the jarring coldness of your body that surged across his skin like a bloodthirsty frostbite.

Your hair fell in a pool beneath your head, encrusted with blood that he didn't know where it came from. There was too much, too much of it that slithered around your body. With trembling hands he supported the back of your neck, bringing your face closer as he cradled your cheeks in his palms.

"Ma', ma', in puksi'ik'al.. jaap wicho'ob, láayli' ma' jach a súutuko'," he pleaded, heart racing a thousand beats at your weakened state. His fingers stroked your temples, tracing the skin from your eyebrows to the high point of your cheek and you swore you would forever savor the feel of his skin on yours.

(No, no, my heart.. open your eyes, it's not your time yet,)

"It's al-..right, in amado." You choked out, holding the hand that held your face and leaning onto his palms with whatever energy you had left in you. It was getting harder to open your eyes or even speak, the hole in your chest rampaging your body like an unquenched beast.

"In ku. Let go, K'ukulkan. Ts'o'ok in meentik le ba'ax táan des-.. destinado in beetik waye'.. je'el u páajtal in je'elel bejla'e'.."

(They call me. I've done what I was meant to do here.. I can rest now..)

He ignored your terrifying acceptance and gently quieted you, pressing his lips onto your forehead in deep fervor. "Save you words, in yaakunaj-"

Namor's heart threatened to jump right out of his chest when he felt your hand go slightly limp, desperately taking it above the crook of his neck, right where the ends of his jaw met his ears. The king held onto you so tightly, trying to keep you grounded with him in the world of the living as if the warmth of his body would spread life to your decaying one. He saw you smile peacefully, like his touch rejuvenated you for a single beat, slowly yet surely stroking the tip of his pointed ears as you've always done whenever you had the chance to. It was a small act of affection that Namor fell weak to, and he couldn't contain the abrupt cry that fell from his lips at the familiar gesture.

"K'a'as a puksi'ik'al yéetel a-.. a yaakunaj, in ajawo'," but even then your stubborn and insistent nature persevered. You spoke with only him and your love for him in mind, silently telling him that this will not be the end. That despite after all this when you will no longer be there to tell him just how beloved and brave he is, he should still remember what he had learned—what he had taught you. You hoped that it would keep him grounded and true, still fierce but with compassion and empathy.

(Remember your heart and your love, my king,)

"In.. yaakunech," and you let our your final breathe, the light in your eyes no longer shining as you stared up into nothing. At the least you looked content to pass to the afterlife in your husbands arms, a gentle lift on the corner of your lips to signify that you've moved on. But along with your departure you tore apart of Namor that he didn't think could ever be replaced—left him with a half-ripped heart and as a shell of the man he once was.

(I love you)

Now, kneeling on the prickling pearly sand tainted with weeping carmine, he was not a god. He was not the king of a powerful underwater nation, he was not a lethal mutant, a hero, a villain, or a protector. No, he was just a man. A man whose heart had been punctured with a hole in the shape of his beloved.

He screamed at the world with the voice of someone who had just lost everything, scorning the surface dwellers with a burning pit of anger and vengeance in his blackened heart. It echoed around the area, bleeding onto every rock, every blade of grass and every tree with his promise of death. The sea grew restless, mirroring the raging currents in his soul.

Namor choked a cry, closing your eyes as his hands shook with grief and pain, body threatening to collapse under his heartbreak. He brought your face closer to his, resting his forehead against yours while he scrunched his eyes closed, disbelieving and mourning of the loss of his beloved. Because no matter how much he begged, how much he cried for you, you would never come back to him, never blessing him with that delicate smile on your face again. The god stayed there for what felt like hours and days, whispering sweet goodbyes, harrowing sobs and promises to avenge you.

When he carried your cold body to Talokan, the people could only stare in shock and despair over the loss of their darling queen. In their eyes you were one of the most powerful people in the kingdom, not just because of your position, but because of your compassion and your love—something that knew no bounds.

It was a painful and gut-wrenching experience, to bury his own wife. It brought him back to the time where he had to do the same to his own mother, to cover her in clothe and put a piece of maize inside her mouth.

"The surface dwellers have taken so much. Talokan's queen, our home and our freedom. I will not let them do so again." Namor had a scathing look in his eyes, a latent tone of tiredness from facing a world that only took from him.

"She must have been an amazing queen and a strong woman." Shuri could only utter these words with a solemn expression on her face, unable to reply to such vulnerability of someone she had considered a dangerous enemy. Despite that.. there was an underlying empathy between the two. Shuri understood him. She knew the pain of losing someone you love.

"She was." A calm visage eventually spread around his face as he looked up at the glorious mural depicted on the walls of the room. "She had the biggest heart and the kindest soul."

Namor couldn't help but get lost in his memories of his beautiful wife. He speaks no lies when he describes you. You were the people's queen, as what the Talokanil called you. You'd always visit the people, play games with the children and scour the underwater markets that sold all kinds of trinkets and foods. Whenever the people needed you you were always there, willing to help them without a second glance as you opened your heart to them all.

After you death, whenever he would swim around Talokan and talk to his people—laughing and joking around with them—there would be this.. serene melody inside his heart, a gentleness that ran through his veins. Namor would feel the water pulsing on the pads of his skin and he'd always take a moment to close his eyes to relish the feeling. Then a smile would make it onto his face—the kind of smile that you would always tell him to show more often. His people felt it too, like a warm embrace to their soul, as if you were watching over them, still caring about them even when you were gone.

It was not only to Talokan's people, but to the ocean's animals too.

If there was one thing about his queen, it was that you had a deep affinity with the marine animals. Whenever the king couldn't find you anywhere in your room or in the palace halls, Namor would only smile to himself and swim to the clearing of the sea just outside of Talokan, watching his wife croon along the whales and the orcas, taking care of them as if your love spoke a thousand languages.

"In ch'ujuk, ko'oten paakat!" You would shout, gleefully waving your hand up in the air with no care in the world.

(My sweet, come and look!)

Sometimes he would only stay back and watch you with eyes so tender that it looked like he was entirely captivated by you. By your voice, your laughter, your smile; your everything. Other times, Namor would be too taken by you (as he always was), deciding to join you play with the creatures that you'd called 'your babies'. Whirling and chasing them around them felt like dancing in the water and Namor was too in love to ever deny you of your little joy.

Even now whenever the whales would call out to the sea, or when the orcas whistled and clicked along, he could still hear your radiant laughter singing along with them and oh how he longed to hear that sound again, to hear the melody of the ocean in its fullness.

You were simply the glue to Talokan; everyone adored the queen.

Until now, your throne still sat next to his, the jade and vibranium never ceasing to glow. Every time he sat there, watching over his people and celebrating his kingdom with defiant shouts of "L'ik'ik Talokan" he would always remember your face, remember the proud look you had when you would raise your fist to your chest along with everyone. Your memory will never fade in the heart of Talokan, always lingering in the brightest places, comforting during troubling times, because you will always be a precious piece of the kingdom that neither he nor his people would forget.

If he brought the sun to his people, you were the sun to him.

"You and I, we are not so different, princess." He broke his train of thought.

"Those people only see us as threats because they know we are powerful. They will not stop until they have what they want. It is a danger to my kingdom and my people—a threat to your people too."

Finally, Namor turned his head to face Shuri, a determined aura lingering in his voice and in his expression. She felt compelled to stare back straight into his eyes, the conviction in his tone like a true king. "And so I offer you again."

"Join me, and we will never have to see our people suffer, to see our loved ones suffer. We will no longer mourn our losses and bury the dead for unjust cruelty."

"Together, we will watch the world burn."

lawd this man singlehandedly got me out of a writing slump like.. making a fic with angst + namor = too easy 😩💳💥

this is my first time writing for him, so i hope it was okay! im so in love with him and i wanted to contribute my own piece to the fandom.

also, i'm pretty sure the yucatec mayan was not properly translated, so i apologize from my heart for the inaccuracies. please tell me if i have to fix anything!

dividers by @delishlydelightfuldividers and @rpinkling

tags: @bloatedandlonly

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