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corpsebasil · 1 year

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The Second Son 18+ parte uno

When the Queen of Ravka is widowed and her place on the throne is challenged, the second son must find a way to be there for her.

Y/N pressed her head against the tomb-stone, closing her eyes against the sheer weight that was resting on her shoulders. She’d grown thinner and seemed to drain of color the past few weeks, dealing with daily state meetings, funeral preparations, and planning.

Just last night she’d been yelled at in a meeting, told that she would be forced to step down due to her lack of a son to pass the throne to. Nikolai Lantsov, the man that was technically her brother in law, had thrown a glass about three inches shy of the man’s head, shattering it against the wall.

The message was loud and clear: don’t disrespect Y/N, or Nikolai will deal with it.

He was there now, at the wake, his hand resting carefully on one shoulder as silent tear’s ran down the girl’s face. He had no idea how to truly comfort her—how to comprehend that sort of loss. Vasily had died, died somehow in his sleep, and instead of being sympathetic the members of court had accused her of killing him, had blamed her for her lack of a child, and had utterly abandoned her when she needed them most.

“I’m here for you, you know that.” Nikolai murmured, running his hand along her back. She sniffed and glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes red and cheeks tear-stained.

“It feels like—” her voice caught and he crouched on the ground beside her, looping his arm around her back. “like I’ve lost everything. My husband, my dignity, any friends.” She shook her head, eyebrows pulling together as her pretty face began to crumple. “I have nothing left, Nikolai.”

“You have me.” He assured his queen and, damn the onlookers, he pulled her into him, holding her as close as he dared as she wept against his chest.

The next few months were torture for Nikolai.

It felt like nothing was good enough, nothing could help her. It amazed him that she managed to get herself out of bed, her miserable gaze growing cold and steely when accusations or criticism were thrown her way. She went to every meeting. Deflected every harsh phrase. And Nikolai had to watch as the woman that had always been so full of life, the woman he’d known since they were teenagers, slowly turned into a shard of ice.

“Y/N,” he called, following after her down the hall one afternoon. Her handmaidens, carefully selected by Y/N herself, all fixed him with territorial gleams in their eyes as he approached. “what do you think of a walk in the gardens?”

“She is busy, Sobachka.” One of the girls practically sneered, looking down her nose at him.

“If she wishes to walk in the gardens,” another argued, looking at her fellow maiden. “then she can with us. We will keep her safe, prince.” She smiled at Nikolai, almost sympathetically, as Y/N’s cool stare found his own.

But whatever she saw on his face had her own eyes softening, and she laid a hand on the girl that had practically hissed at him’s shoulder.

“Easy, Marian.” Y/N sighed, then nodded to the other girl. The third was still silent, peering over the queen’s shoulder with an almost childlike shyness. “Delia, Anika, will you please visit the dogs in the kennels? I hear a new batch of puppies was born and I’d like to hear if they’re worth the company.”

The shy one, Anika, immediately lit up, grasping the other two girl’s hands and rushing away, the three laughing as they raced. Nikolai had never seen such whimsical behavior in his court; it warmed him momentarily, only until the one named Marian shot him a look that promised a horrifying death if anything happened to her queen.

“My handmaidens,” Y/N mused, watching as they linked arms and began skipping as they rounded a corner. “are quite energetic. But they keep me sane.” She sighed, turning back to Nikolai, and tilted her head to the side in a ridiculously adorable way that had Nikolai feeling strangely flustered. “They are also trained killers. Wolf in sheep’s clothing, if you will.”

“How um—” Nikolai cleared his throat, nodding his head towards the garden. “How lovely. I do think that Marian wanted me dead on the spot.”

“She’s my cousin.” Y/N admitted, surprising Nikolai. “She came all the way from our northern cities to be at my side during this time.”

“I like her already.” Nikolai said, offering her his arm. “I’m a bit scared of her, but I like her.”

Her laugh stunned him enough that he shot her an incredulous look, one he quickly wiped off his face when she looped her arm through his own. How she could even smile with what she was going through was beyond him. But he saw the darkness under her eyes; he could see the way she seemed to sink down into herself, like she had a permanent exhaustion wrapping around her.

They moved throughout the hallway, passing into the gardens, the sweet smell of flowers floating along the air. Y/N let go of Nikolai to kneel by a rose bush, inhaling deeply. She seemed calmer, now. Less tired. She tipped her face back into the sunlight and closed her eyes, and Nikolai’s heart almost stopped.

He’d seen her do that same gesture about a hundred times but now, watching her that afternoon, she seemed more radiant than ever.

“You look—” he started, then stopped. Her eyes cut to his, wide and gorgeous, and he wasn’t sure why his chest had grown tight. “beautiful.”

Something in her face changed, a subtle twitch of the mouth, but she seemed to straighten, a sheen of delight appearing slowly in those captivating eyes of hers.

“Thank the Saints someone thinks so.” She said, laughing half-heartedly, and turned back to her flowers.

“I’m sorry about Vasily.” Nikolai blurted, his heart rate speeding. Saints where was this coming from? “I know you loved him and—”

She startled him by cackling, a surprisingly witchy sounding laugh that sent the hairs on the nape of his neck on end. He stared, borderline stunned, as she covered her mouth with a hand, her eyes twinkling at the prince.

“What?” She gasped, fighting off her laughter. She glanced around to make sure no one was around and, almost conspiratorially, whispered to him, “I hated that bastard. He was an arrogant son of a—”

“But you—you cried. At his funeral.”

“I might not have cared for him but he was still my husband.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. Then she took in his stunned expression and frowned slightly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I promise I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He only shook his head, but was unable to stop himself from leaning a bit into her touch. The wicked gleam in her eyes told him enough: she would’ve like to be the one that killed him.

“You wanted children, though?” He offered, moving a step closer, and was met by a rush of warmth when she made no move to back away. “You—you always told me you wanted…you told the court that you’d tried—”

Her expression darkened and she turned away, striding a few steps before turning back.

“The people of court know nothing about my desire for children, or how much I wanted to be a mother.” Nikolai was horrified to see tears beginning to form in his queen’s eyes. “They don’t know about my—” she wiped a hand over her face and gave him an agonized look. “he wouldn’t touch me. I couldn’t tell anyone. How am I to be blamed for being childless when he wouldn’t lay a single hand on me—"

“He what?” Nikolai interrupted, startled. The fact that his brother had never bedded her, hadn’t wanted to, was a fact that made absolutely no sense to him. He’d felt a stab of burning jealously in his chest when she’d said she’d tried to have children, and had chalked it up to fertility issues. “Not once?”

“He kissed me on our wedding day. During the ceremony. That was the last time.”

He only stared, briefly winded, and moved towards her. That she didn’t move away gave him courage, not even when he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave her a look so filled with longing it took her breath away.

“I’m sorry.” He said, and didn’t move when she leaned closer into him. “If I would’ve known—I knew you wanted to be a mother. I would’ve liked you to have had that, at least.”

She nodded, eyes sad, and she surprised him by hugging him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He didn’t hesitate to hold her, breathing in her flowery scent, as she pressed her face against him.

“I won’t let go of my dreams.” She whispered, fingers clutching him tighter. “I will find a good man, a man who truly loves me, and we’ll have a family together. And I’ll be at peace, knowing I’ve gotten what I’ve always wanted.”

His arms seemed to loop around her further and she closed her eyes, absorbing his warmth the best she could. This was Nikolai, one of her closest friends, the boy that had teased her and played pranks on her throughout their youth. This was the boy that had once snuck her away to a village festival had spun her around so fast during a dance she was afraid she’d puke.

The boy who, during her wedding, had rose in the middle of the ceremony and left, a barely suppressed sob catching in her throat as she watched him leave. And now he was running a hand over her hair, his face dangerously close to her own, as she pulled back to look at him.

“I need time.” She told him, voice quiet, as she looked up. “I need time but—but if you care for me…in any way I might feel about you, then maybe..” she swallowed, glancing away. “I would’ve liked it to be you.” She admitted, and he could hardly hear her words over his pounding heart. “I never wanted him. It was always—” she couldn’t finish, her grip on him tightening, and he simply laid a kiss against the top of her head, a smile on his handsome face.

“However long you need,” he said, sliding a hand up to her cheek to pull her eyes to his. “I’m here. Always.”

The months seemed to fly by. Months of spending almost every second with one another; every morning, as a tradition, they had breakfast together. They took walks together, and horse rides, and he took her to see shows and slowly, slowly, she came back to herself. She became giddy at the sight of him, at his smiling face and his kind words.

Even Marian, the coldest of her handmaidens, took a liking to Nikolai. She annihilated him when they played cards, to his dismay, but even her steely, protective cousin began demanding when they could all see the prince again. And then came the night after he and Y/N had gotten a bit drunk, laughing and dancing around her rooms.

“This is not queenly behavior,” he laughed, watching as she twirled around and around, her crown tossed carelessly on a couch.

“I’m still a girl, Nik.” She grinned, flouncing towards him, and took his hands, forcing him to dance with her. “Come on, you lazy bastard. Dance with me.”

He laughed aloud, tugging her into him and, so fast he didn’t know what he was even doing, he dropped a kiss down onto her mouth. She froze in his grip, expression sobering as she pulled back, and he instantly regretted the decision.

“I’m sorry, I—” he felt panicked, watching as she stared at him so calculatingly he was sure he had made a gigantic fool of himself. “I didn’t mean to I just—”

But then she was lunging for him, practically tackling him over as she kissed him hard, with everything she had, and he tugged her roughly against him. A pretty moaning noise left her mouth when he lifted her, wrapping her legs around him as he moved to her bedroom.

“Nikolai,” she breathed, pulling back for only half a second to look at him. “please I—”

“Anything you want.” He murmured, kissing her again, before dropping her down on her bed. She immediately shoved him onto his back, straddling his hips, pressing as close to him as she could when he tugged her mouth back to his own.

It felt desperate, ridiculously so, this inevitable joining. He practically ripped her dress off as she tugged at his belt, her face flushed and hair tousled. Then she gasped as he slipped his hand between her legs, running the calloused fingers across her center, then inside.

Her head dropped to his shoulder as she keened out his name, feeling every single curl and thrust of his fingers into her. And gods, he was good. Especially when he rolled her onto her back, tugging off the rest of her clothing, and moved down between her legs.

Her head was spinning. Spinning, as his tongue dipped inside her and then dragged up, his hand still working her as best as he could. She clutched at him, anything she could hold on to, her face so warm she thought she was on fire.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” he mumbled against her, barely intruding the fog that had swarmed within her mind. “not yet.”

“That’s—” her breathing was ragged through the intensity of the pleasure. This had never been done to the queen before—never—and she was having trouble focusing on his words at all. “I want to make you—“

“Next time.” He promised, and with a particularly hard lick against her, his fingers curling to brush against that certain spot that made her head spin, she came, shaking so hard she had to grip him with both hands in order not to jolt away.

Then she laid spent, chest rising and falling at a rapid clip as he moved beside her, his lips pressing against her neck in slow, soft kisses.

“I want you to…do more with me.” She said, turning her head to face his. Lord, he didn’t even have sex with her and he looked completely fucked out. Her stomach dropped at the sight and her face warmed further.

“Later.” He swore again, bringing her mouth to his, then brushing his tongue against her own. “I want to make love to you until you can’t think of anyone else.”

“I never have.” She said, swallowing nervously. “Never anyone else.”

He ran his fingers across her cheek, smiling softly.

“You have no idea how much I care about you.” He breathed and then added, almost as an afterthought, “Your Majesty.”

“Oh hush.” She scoffed, climbing over him to straddle him once again.

They kissed long into the night, her fingers in his hair, a bruising grip from him on her hips. And then later, though not too long later, he’d tugged her up over his head, forcing her to grip the headboard as he licked at her until she broke again.

hi I feel jealous and also unhinged

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