#of course this will only continue if she progresses in the tourney but fingers crossed she'll make it at least a few stages!

[starflungwaddledee]

[stage 2 loaded. now playing: rambling rainforest.] the smell of pine and stale water lingers in the air.

<< prev || [masterpost] || next >> /// you can vote for starstruck in round 1 here! 📋

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

tapestry 👑 XXX

Warnings: dark elements, dub/noncon (fingering)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The king has some fun.

Note: Hey, it’s me again. I wrote this chapter after work in the brief interlude between soul crushing shifts. Hope you enjoy.<3 

Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

After Priskham, the progress continued to Lord Stark's lair at the Iron Tower and continued on to Lord Barnes's hold of Brooks's End. The castle had been abandoned for two centuries before him as its former family had been extinguished for their part in a plot against the Rogers' Dynasty in Western Uprisings. You suspected its history loomed in the mind of its current keeper.

The king was as diligent as ever but since your first night upon progress, you had done better to let him his desires. You didn't dare pretend at sleep again and when he made a request, you took it as an order. And Barnes, well you avoided him as you could, for his sake and yours. Not that he would look at or talk to you.

To mark the first full day in Brook’s End, Barnes arranged a feast. The wild boar, for which the locale was famous for, was served roasted with a medley of vegetables, and endless wine and ale. The king had a hand in the event; he bid that Barnes take a seat of honour upon the dais for his efforts. Steven sat in the middle and you were thankful to have him as a barrier.

You sat quietly as you ate. You didn’t have energy for much else. Travel, the king, the court; it all piled up. You listened instead as you awaited dessert, eager to retire for the night. There was to be no dancing as no band could be acquired but there was little outcry at the announcement.

“A final stop at Drissot and we can make for Shell’s Harth.” The king said gaily. “Asgard does seem most eager to have us and I’ve never the pleasure of visiting, even when that witch was alive.”

“King Thor did write of a tournament. Do you think it wise to partake?” Barnes asked dully as he rubbed his finger along the rim of his goblet. “It could be a scheme. A pointed lance could be easily disguised or a sword conveniently confused.” 

“Always so paranoid, my lord,” Steven teased. “Besides, it might have been a few years since my last, but when have I ever been felled at a tourney?”

“Never, your highness,” Barnes answered. “But that was among your own people.”

“I would be more concerned with a taster to guard my plate,” Steve countered. “And my queen’s.”

The king reached blindly to you and ran his hand over your skirts. He didn’t look away from Barnes as he gripped your leg through the fabric. You swallowed and looked down at his hand. He didn’t rescind it as he continued to talk.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Surely,” Barnes answered with a cough. “I was thinking… we might send an ambassador ahead of us. He shall need a party as well to see him safe. Perhaps a mole or two…” He paused and you felt the shift in your hem; the king’s fingers on your thigh as he gathered your skirt slowly. “To attain a preview of the Asgardian court?”

“Hmmm,” Steven said thoughtfully. He carried on tugging your skirt up, up, up, until it was past your knee. You tried to catch the hem and he yanked it sharply. A warning. “I suppose it wouldn’t be ridiculous.”

You stared at the king’s hand as it moved. You followed the brocade along his arm and tried to glance his expression as he kept his face to his companion. The tables below were unable to see past the long cloth hung over yours; the crest of the king beside that of Brook’s End. Steven slipped his hand past the satin and Barnes cleared his throat.

“And we should, uh…” Barnes’ voice was stunted and looked at each other. His gaze sent a thrill through you as his eyes rounded. He blinked and gulped and turned his attention to his goblet. “We should, um, keep an eye on his brother as well. Prince Loki is known for his spies; for having his ear… to the, uh… to the ground most anywhere he treads.”

“Oh, yes, I was not keen on the rodent.” Steven snarled. 

The king shoved his hand up until it met your vee. You squeezed your thighs around him and he pinched you sharply. You squeaked as he forced your legs back apart. He began to rub you with two fingers. You gritted your teeth and tried not to show your discomfort to the people.

Barnes was silent. He emptied his cup and placed it on the table with a hollow clunk. Steven did not relent. The nobleman sighed and shifted in his chair.

“Your highness,” He hissed. “I do not think this… appropriate.”

“Why, this is my feast, is it not? You did declare in my honour?” Steven taunted. “And I find myself rather bored without a band and so I must entertain myself.”

“Then do excuse me,” Barnes insisted as he made to rise.

“No, you shall stay. We are not done talking,” Steven purred as he swirled his fingers and you gasped. You grabbed the side of your chair and pressed yourself to the tall backrest. 

“Please, Steven, she is your queen. You would humiliate her in front of her own court.” Barnes remanded. “Is that the only reason you sought to wed her? To spite her for her denial?”

“Denial? She is mine,” Steven chuckled. “Look at her. She’s trembling, isn’t she? Always so receptive.”

“Don’t do this,” Barnes’ whispered. 

“Who can see but you?” Steven challenged. “I do wonder why it should disturb you so. You did not protest when it was Rose you brought to me. When you did see her to my chambers. Or the one before that… Was it Laura? Lana? Even when it was Eleanor, you did not flinch.”

Barnes’ nostrils flared and he gulped. He reached for his goblet again and found it empty. Then he grabbed the ewer and swore as he found it dry as well. He tossed it back on the table and sat back heavily. He crossed his arms and glared at the king.

“Don’t look at me, look at her,” The king ordered. “Look at that face. Do her lashes flutter? Her eyes roll back? She bites down and you can hear her breathing through her teeth. And she is wet. I can slip inside…” He paused as he pushed his fingers past your entrance and his palm against your clit. “So easily.”

“Steven…” You begged as you touched his wrist. “Please…”

“Do you think she begs me to stop or to cum?” Steven looked to you with a smirk. “Do you think it matters?” He turned back to Barnes. “She is my wife, my queen; mine to do with as I please.”

“Why are you doing this?” Barnes growled.

“Because I can.” The king sneered as his fingers worked faster inside of you. “Because, my lord, I want you to recall this whenever your eyes stray to her; whenever they linger on her as they are want to do; whenever you have those lewd little thoughts that do darken your eyes so.”

Your hands went to the table as you clutched the wood. You struggled not to cry out as you leaned forward into his hand without thinking. Your feet arched in your slippers and the crowd blurred in your vision; a streak of colours and voices. You shook your head as the ripples began to spread along your flesh. As the familiar prick started in your core.

“So watch, my lord, and remember who is king and who is subject,” Steven spat. “Who holds power over…” He paused as you spasmed. You sat back enough to cause the chair to wobble and held in a sob as you came. “Who.”

He slipped his fingers out of you as you tried to steady your breath. He lifted his hand to the light and admired the glisten before he licked them. Your head spun as your eyes found Barnes through the haze; he was livid and pale. His nails were sunk into the arms of his chair and his jaw was squared.

“I have never forgotten, your highness,” He said.

“Good,” Steven smirked and tugged your skirts back down over your legs until it fell upon its own weight. “See that you don’t.” He sat up and glanced around the chamber. “Shall I call for more wine?”

👑

You were to be at Brook’s End for a week. Three days in and you found the place unbearable. The king made it thus. He wouldn’t stop fucking you until you were screaming and he hadn’t grown any subtler in the presence of his host. Only half a week before you set out to the final stop upon your tour; until you would be on your way to your sister.

That day, you spent apart from the king. You and your ladies read from a poetry book, explored the east wing where portraits hung along the walls, and attended your prayers and meals together. For a time, you forgot the king and his favoured lord; although you wondered if his preference was very fervent anymore.

And then you were to return to your husband. You lingered with Marion in the corridors but knew you could forever. You clung to her as she bid you farewell and watched her go. Your guard was silent as you led him through the halls. You hated his thin, unmoving lips and his bushy brows. You missed Dolan. And Marion. Should you mourn them too?

You stood outside your doors for a moment. You looked over to the guard as he took his place opposite the king’s. They didn’t seem to notice you. As you stepped forward, they opened the doors for you and you stepped inside. The king was there, at his desk. He didn’t lift his head as you entered.

“My queen,” He said as he finished scratching his nib across the parchment. “I’ve been awaiting you.”

“My apologies, I did find myself prolonged by Lady Marion,” You lied. “How was your day, husband?”

“Fine enough,” He sat up and set his pen down. “And you, wife?”

“Fine, as well,” You neared the other side of his desk. “Though I do tire.”

“I should hope you aren’t very tired,” He stood and you fought not to wince as he rounded the desk. “I had it in mind that we might play a game.”

“A game?” You repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Cards? Do you know ‘Horses’, or prehaps ‘Lances’?” He asked and you blinked in surprise.

“Uh, yes, of course,” You smiled and for a moment he was silent. He looked down at you as he touched your cheek.

“Then you choose and we shall play,” He bent and pecked your lips. “First I should like a change of clothes.”

“I suppose I would too,” You said. “I like a challenge so I think Horses should do.” 

You followed him to the bed chamber. There was a flutter in your chest. True excitement alongside a sense of relief. You always played cards with your sister; you weren’t very competitive but you enjoyed the past time.

“Horses it is,” He agreed.

He loosened your laces for you and his hands did not wander. You were further surprised. You let the silk fall down your arms and undressed with a sigh. You pulled a robe over your shift and looked up at Steven. He pushed his hair back and stretched; his own robe hung open over a pair of shorts.

“I have set the cards out already,” He said. “You may deal as I pour the wine.”

“You know I do not drink very much wine,” You replied. “Is there water? Milk?”

“The wine is part of the game.” He led you to the table and waited for you to sit before he did. “For each round, the loser will drink.”

“Oh,” You took the deck of cards as he pulled the pair of goblets towards him and filled each with the dark wine. “Hm, well then I suppose I should want to win even more.”

“I wish you luck,” He slid a cup towards you. “So, let us begin.” You dealt six cards to each of you and set the deck in the middle. “Shall I draw first or you?”

“I should allow you the pleasure,” You sorted your cards by suit and waited for him to start.

It was promising at first. You each flicked your cards down one at a time and while you were not winning, you were not losing either. An even match until the last was laid down. The king cried out Horses and you shook your head. A sneaky move but not illegal.

“Drink,” He urged.

You exhaled and took your cup. “To your victory,” You raised it and drank. 

As you set it back down, he tutted. “You must finish.”

You lifted your brow but he did not waver. You lifted your goblet again and gulped deeply. You nearly choked as you emptied it and as you replaced it on the table, your vision swam just a little. He poured you another glass and shuffled the deck. He slid them to you and let you deal again.

And you lost. Again. You huffed and looked into your cup. It was quite a bit of wine. He laughed and gathered up the cards. “My dear, it is only your second cup.”

“I told you, wine does not agree with me.” You pleaded.

“You might still catch up,” He gloated. “Shall I deal this time?”

“As you wish,” You grumbled as you took your cup again. 

The wine was sweeter and easier to swallow but it had a more potent effect. He filled your cup again and you held in a belch. He doled out the cards and you swept up your hand and almost fumbled them. He let you draw first this time and you groaned. Not a good start. He flicked his first card down and you yours. You tossed each onto the pile in quick succession and you were ready to celebrate until that last card. The same trick.

“Lord!” You exclaimed as you threw up your hands. “You must cheat, my king.”

“I did change so that you would not suspect cards up my sleeves,” He held out his arms as his robe hung loosely from them. “And I haven’t anywhere else to conceal them.” He reached to nudge your goblet closer to you. “Do not be a sore loser.”

“I am not… sore.” You argued and grabbed the cup. “Next game.”

You drained the cup, a little dribbled down your chin, and slammed the cup back down. You felt bubbly and wobbly. You leaned on the table to steady yourself. The king dealt the cards and you took them clumsily. You had to win this time.

“How about this. For each card, I will ask you a question for each card and you may ask me one?”

“Ask you what?” You said through thick lips.

“Anything you wish. Shall I draw?”

“Go ahead.” You waved your fingers at him.

He drew and flopped the card down. “First question; I know you to be innocent before we wed, but did you ever kiss another before me?”

“What?” You scoffed. “N-no. Who would I kiss?”

“Is that your question?” He asked.

“No,” You laid down your card. “Why… did you choose cards for tonight?”

“Because they are simple and everything else is so complicated.” He answered. “And… I don’t know. You make me feel… young again.”

“You’re not old,” You chided. “Wait… are you?”

“Not your turn,” He warned and slapped his card down. “Did you ever fancy anyone before me?”

“Fancy? I… my king, why do you ask these things?”

“It is only a game,” He intoned. “I am curious. So answer me.”

“Not truly, I think,” You played with the corner of a card. “I suppose I did know which men were… handsome.”

“Oh, naughty,” He smirked. “Go on.”

You played your card. You licked your lips and thought of another question. “Do you cheat at Horses?”

“No, but I did not warn you of my skill,” He grinned and his card was added to the stack. “And did you list Lord Barnes among these handsome men?”

Your face was hot. Not just from the wine but from his question. Your mouth was acrid as you opened it. Your voice caught in your throat. You swallowed and found it at last. “My king…”

“Your honesty will not rile me,” He leaned an arm on the table, “But your dishonesty should.”

You stared at him. The edges of your vision were fuzzy and your eyelids were heavy. “He is not unattractive.” You answered.

You didn’t look at your cards as you placed the next. Your voice quavered. “Why the wine?”

“To soften you.” He admitted. “To weaken you.”

“And these questions?” You prodded.

“Not your turn.” He set down his card. The king. “When I did make you cum before him, did you imagine it was him touching you?”

You frowned. You reached to your goblet. He hadn’t refilled it yet. “I do not want to play this anymore.”

“It is too late to forfeit. Now, I did play my card.” He stared at you; his blue eyes unwavering. “I told you, your honesty cannot offend me.”

You pressed your lips together and touched your cheek. You nodded. “Only…” Your voice was brittle. “Only for a moment.”

He sat back and waited. You took your turn. You stared at the table in shame. “I have no question. You may ask yours…” You looked up slowly. “For I know this was a trick indeed.”

“I do not ask to entrap you, my queen,” He slipped a card onto the table. “Because I do trust you. I ask because I am curious. I ask because I know your character. And I know his.”

“And you distrust him?” You set your cards down and touched your temples as the wine seeped into your brain.

“I… don’t know,” He said flatly. “You are drunk, wife.”

“I am,” You grumbled as you slumped and held your head.

“Then let us finish our game,” He pointed to your cards upon the table. “And I will see you to bed.”