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#david budd x reader

alloftheimagines · 2 years

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david budd | the break-in

masterlist | ko-fi

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+

reader struggles with sexual harassment in the workplace, reader is assaulted in a home invasion, violence, strong language and use of the words "bitch" and "slut", david coming to reader's rescue and taking care of you

prompt: I love bodyguard sm! How about David Budd & “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you.

Your apartment door is open. You know it wasn’t when you went to work this morning, but now the shadows pour into the hallway, the lock hanging off splintered wood. Somebody has broken in.

Fear turns you cold, and you scan the grey-walled corridor. It's quiet save for a baby crying somewhere upstairs and the blare of a television drifting through one of the many closed doors. You glance at the door behind you, where you know David Budd lives. A police sergeant. If you were smart, you’d knock on his door before entering your own flat, but you don’t want to bother a man who always seems to be wrapped up in work or his kids. It’s the last thing he needs. It's probably nothing, anyway. Break-ins happen every day in London.

Slowly, you take out your keys and separate them between your fingers, just in case. In the other hand, you get your phone out, ready. And then you nudge the door open with your foot.

Nothing looks touched inside, everything as you left it. Somehow, that makes it worse. It isn’t just a break-in, or else the laptop on the kitchen counter wouldn’t still be there. So what else would they want?

The question is answered by a pair of rough, bruising hands yanking you away from the light switch. You try to scream, but they cover your mouth, squeezing you against a flat, hard body. Something stabs into your hip. You look down and find a knife winking at you, pressing into your waistband. Tears slip down your cheeks as you try to struggle, but in your panic, you’ve dropped the keys and there’s no way out of their grip.

“Don’t move,” the intruder whispers in your ear. “Don’t scream or I promise, it won’t end well.”

You recognise the gravelly voice. John. A co-worker — ex-co-worker. He’d been harassing you in the office. Finding excuses to touch you, watching you too closely, making inappropriate comments. So you went to HR and they fired him yesterday.

Only, this morning, you found him loitering in the car park outside the office. You’d hoped he was just there to pick up his things, but…

He’s here for you. He shouldn’t even know where you live. He’s been watching you. Might have even followed you home before. A shiver crawls down your spine.

“What do you want?” you ask, voice trembling.

“What do I want?” He scoffs, throwing you to the floor. You whimper as he leans over you, pressing the knife to your neck this time. He looks… wrong. Tired. Bloodshot eyes. Shaking hands. Stubble where he usually kept clean-shaven. “I want my fucking job back, you bitch. What did you tell them?”

“The truth,” you whisper, though you know honesty isn’t a good idea. “I told them the truth.”

“You had them fire me.”

“They made the decision. I would have been happy just to have you work on another floor.”

“Why? Because I looked at you? Maybe you shouldn’t dress like such a slut.” He presses harder, making you wince. “You were begging for it. You wanted me.”

You shake your head. “No. No, I didn’t, John. Please, get off me. Go home. Nobody has to know about this as long as you leave me alone.”

“Or what? What are you going to do?” He snarls, eyes glittering wildly. And you see the fire there. The anger. The need to hurt. You feel sick, frozen in fear. It doesn’t matter what you say next, you know. He’s here for a reason. To punish you.

“Don’t,” you beg. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

“You’re wrong.” He moves quickly, but your reflexes are quicker. You knee him in the groin, twisting in an effort to crawl away while he yells out in pain — but you’re not quick enough, and he’s there in an instant, dragging you back by the hair. You scream out, and he stifles it with his hand again so it echoes in the silence.

“I’m going to make you pay,” he promises, the cold metal digging into your collarbone now. “I swear to god —”

The door swings open before he can finish. In the moonlight, you make out a broad figure. He launches himself at John in two strides, dragging him up by the collar and pinning him roughly against the wall. It isn’t until he speaks, Scottish accent making his voice like gravel, that you realise who it is. David. “PS David Budd. I am ordering you to drop your weapon.”

A sob falls from you as the knife drops to the carpet. David slams John into the wall again, pinning his wrists.

“You’re under arrest for assault.” Anger ripples through David as he reads John his rights. You stumble up, feeling as though you’re moving through quicksand. The kitchen counter is your only support.

David half-turns to you as he keeps John in his grip. “Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”

“No… No,” you whisper weakly. You wouldn’t notice even if you were hurt. You’re too numb. Too shocked. To grateful that David got here when he did.

“I have officers on their way. Called them as soon as I heard you scream. Are you sure you’re okay, love?”

“I think so.” You swallow thickly, shaking when you hear the sirens.

“Do you know this man?” asks David.

“He was a co-worker.”

“She had me fucking fired,” John groused, but David silenced him, crushing him closer to the wall. You’d never seen him like this. So focused, so… furious. Like he wanted to do more than just arrest John. In the hallway, he always had a smile for you. He’d bring your parcels to your door if you had deliveries on the same day. Always asked you how you were, how work was. You don’t know this David.

David looks at you in question now, and you nod. “He was harassing me at work. I took it to HR.”

“If you were smart, you would have left it there, mate,” David hissed through clenched teeth. “We aren't nearly as nice as HR.”

The sound of footsteps rattles through the building, and then the on-duty officers are there. They cuff John and escort him under David’s orders. You can only stand and watch as he explains everything he knows, hearing talks of interviews and the station. You can only breathe when John is finally gone and it’s just the two of you.

“Is it alright if I turn a light on?”

You nod absently, crossing your arms over your chest. He chooses the floor lamp by the door, the one you’d been attempting to switch on when John had grabbed you.

“Are you sure you’re alright, love?” he repeats. His eyes search you, hands hovering awkwardly as though he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch you. You can only tremble, tipping your head in your attempt to convince him you are.

“We need a statement from you down at the station. Do you think you can do that for me?” His voice has none of the rough fury it had a few moments ago. Now, it’s soft, gentle, concerned, and it’s enough to make you want to sob, thank him, seek comfort in him. But you don’t.

“It can wait until tomorrow morning if you need a bit of time…”

“No. Now is okay.”

“Okay. I can take you. How’s that?” He extends his hand carefully as though expecting you to cower. But you never cowered for John, and you won’t now. Least of all with a man who’s only ever made you feel safe. It isn’t easy living in the centre of London, but knowing a sergeant lives across the hall has provided you with a sense of security you wouldn’t have had otherwise.

You take his hand now and let him lead you out. You look blankly at your door, the broken lock. “We’ll have it sorted tomorrow. Can I call anyone for you?”

Your stomach drops at the realisation that, no, there’s no one to call. Your family lives up north and you couldn’t bear to worry them. Your friends are all from work, and though supportive, you don’t want to tell them the story tonight. “No. There isn’t anyone.”

“Okay. You’re welcome to stay with me tonight. I have a pull-out couch.”

His kindness almost makes you want to break, but you force a smile instead. “Thank you, David.”

You drive to the station in silence. David guides you into an interview room to take your statement himself. You tell him the story shakily, and his eyebrows furrow with the same fear and pain you’ve felt for weeks. When you’re done and the recording is stopped, he reaches a hand across the table. You take it. “You did really good. He’ll get what he deserves. I promise.”

You don’t know what to say, so you only purse your lips and hope it's true.

“Ready to go home?” David asks.

The answer, of course, is yes.

***

David can’t stop watching you as he waits for the kettle to boil. You sit on his couch, makeup smeared as you stare out of the window into the night. When he notices you shiver, he grabs a zip-up hoodie from his pile of clean laundry and drapes it around your shoulders after offering you your tea. “Don’t want you getting cold. If you want, I can nip across the hall and grab some of your things.”

“I can go…” But your bottom lip wobbles, and he knows that soon, it’ll hit you. It always take a while for the shock to wear off for victims of assault. You’ve been holding up well for hours, chin set in determination, but it’s quiet now, and you look so small in his flat. He just wishes he’d known. Wishes he’d heard the lock being broken or seen the door open when he got home. He’d been exhausted after a long shift. Barely aware of his surroundings until he’d heard you scream. Dread had sharpened his world again, and when he’d walked in to find you at knifepoint, that bastard’s hand knotted in your hair… he’d wanted to kill him.

“You drink your tea,” he insists softly. “I can go. Just tell me where to look. I won’t go rooting. Promise.”

“In my bedroom. There are pyjamas in the second drawer of my dresser.”

“I’ll be back in a second.” He squeezes your hand before crossing the hall and grabbing your things, nausea churning in his gut as he looks at the ruined lock again. His hands ball into fists at the memory of you on the floor. If he hadn’t heard you scream…

He leaves the apartment before he can contemplate the end of that sentence, setting your pyjamas down on the coffee table and taking the armchair across from you. You chew your bottom lip, warming your hands around your mug of tea and staring at the string of the teabag.

“You don’t have to be so strong now, love,” he says. “It’s just you and me. If you want to talk about it…”

It’s all it takes for your chin to wobble. “I just felt so helpless. I thought… I didn’t know what he was going to do to me.”

David sighs, resting his elbows on his parted thighs and wishing he could do more, say more, be more. Wishing he could chase all your fears away. He shifts slowly towards you, waiting for you to protest, but you don’t. In fact, when he sits on the sofa beside you, you lean towards him as though welcoming him, tucking your hair behind your ear in that way he’s grown to love. He doesn’t know what it is about you; his days are just brighter if he catches you in the hallway or hears you singing in the shower through the paper-thin walls. And it helps that you’re beautiful and kind and funny. Helps that you always make him feel warm and, for once, at peace.

“You’re safe now.”

You close your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. He brushes them away tenderly, and you bow your head as more come. “Thank you for being there.”

“Of course. I’m…” He steels himself before his voice can crack with the sincerity it holds. “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again, Y/N. I’m here, okay?”

You do something he hadn’t expected then. You nestle your face into his chest. His breaths turn ragged with the proximity as he slowly wraps his arms around you, stroking your hair. “You’re okay now, love.” He says it again and again, reminding himself as well as you. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this rattled, this invested. A long time since he’s felt anything at all.

He clings onto it for as long as you let him.

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i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms · 1 month

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So I think I'm gonna open up requests for smau's for all of my fandoms, basically just like a couple insta posts and Twitter posts for your favorite character that may be on my list (the pinned post on my account) I'll also have them all tagged below 😁

Just tell me who and add a little description, or not and I can come up with something on my own.

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green-typewriterz · 8 months

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REQUESTS ARE CLOSED*

*requests are open for Buck ONLY

Hello!

I am a fic writer who is now opening requests!

what i will write:

angst

hurt

comfort

fluff

injury and the like

what i won't write:

Explicit content, I’m fine with kissing but no sex/ more as I am ace and sex repulsed

NSWF (only sexual I will do violence and swearing lol)

pregnancy or being a parent

minor x adult ships (eg Sterek)

If there is a topic you are unsure about feel free to message me and I will clear it up! I will most likely mainly be writing for:

EVAN BUCKLEY PLEASE SEND ME EVAN BUCKLEY FICS

SAM WINCHESTER

Kaz Brekker

Matt Murdock

Sidney Prescott

Amber Freeman

Wes Hicks

Tara Carpenter

Sam Carpenter

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Pretty much any teen wolf character

Finnick Odair

Johanna Mason

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proximaamidnightt · 1 month

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𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

The Gentlemen

Raymond Smith

Forget me not

Bodyguard

David Budd

Miss you

Triple Frontier

Ben Miller

Unsainted

Sons Of Anarchy

Jax Teller

Run, Run, Run

Juice Ortiz

Mine

Baby

#my writing #The Gentlemen #raymond smith #bodyguard #david budd #Triple Frontier #ben miller #sons of anarchy #Jax Teller #juice ortiz #masterlist #raymond smith x reader #david budd x reader #ben miller x reader #jax teller x reader #juice ortiz x reader

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imaslutforcuddles · 1 year

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MAIN MASTERLIST

A/N: This is going to take a bit to complete, so hang on with me. Yes, i know i already have one but i don’t care. This one is going to be better. (gifs aren’t mine btw, i do not take credit for them at all.) I have requests available so PLEASE DO NOT BE AFRAID TO POP IN, SAY HI, OR REQUEST SOMETHING <3!!!!!! Some of my writing includes smut so i have a lil decoder for my singles :3

Smut:❤️ / Fluff:✿ / Angst:☆

RICHARD MADDEN

Mason Kane:

Nadia x Mason drabble ❤️

Robb Stark:

Take you to hell ❤️/ ☆

Did something bad / two / three (i know it’s been awhile but it will be finished some day😭)

David Budd:

Enemy ✿ / ☆

Ikaris:

Be good to me / two / three

JOSEPH QUINN

Eddie Munson:

Antsy ✿

Look after you ✿

Dumb Dumb ☆ / ❤️

Escapism ☆ / ❤️

CHRIS EVANS

Ari Levinson:

Run little bunny❤️ (coming soon!)

HENRY CAVILL

August Walker:

Vampire ☆

Geralt Of Rivia:

Shameless ( in progress )

SEBASTIAN STAN

- nothing here yet!

This is the end for now! <3

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yourloverfromthepast · 1 year

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Y/n talking with a reporter: Excuse me? Oh, yeah! Yes! Of course I love working for her! Julia Montague is an extremely nice person: kind hearted, thoughtful, determined, endowed with great intelligence...yes, if I have to be honest, she’s the type of woman I’ve always wanted to be.

*Earlier that morning*

Y/n crying in David’s arms in the bathroom: she’s the fucking devil!! *sobs* whY WOULD YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT FUCKING HER-

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reblogginqueen · 2 years

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(PS) David Budd Favorites Archive:

Imagines:

Without A Word ~ Written By: @justauthoring

Series:

Protector ~ Written By: @storiesforallfandoms

Blurbs/Drabbles:

I’ve got you ~ Written By: @writingfortoomanyfandoms

#ps david budd imagines #david budd imagines #david budd x reader #david budd #richard madden #richard madden x reader #richard madden imagines #david budd favorites archive #david budd fa #rebloggin queen favorite archives #rebloggin queen fa #rebloggin queen

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gonzo-rella · 26 days

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Headcanons: Alexis Rose, David Rose and Stevie Budd Taking Care of You When You're Sick

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Alexis Rose x gn!reader (romantic or platonic), David Rose x gn!reader (romantic or platonic), Stevie Budd x gn!reader (romantic or platonic)

Warnings: Reader has a common cold, which gets ever so slightly gross at points, if you squint. Possible grammatical oversights because I'm sick myself. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: This is my third cold of the year. I have no idea why I keep getting sick, but at least it's inspired me to write more than I did last year, I guess! The first time I got sick, I wrote headcanons and a ficlet for Yellowjackets, Community, Dead Poets Society and Scott Pilgrim characters taking care of a sick reader. This time around, I felt motivated to write for Schitt's Creek. I haven't finished the show (I'm on season 5, I believe), and as of writing this A/N I haven't added it to my fandom list yet. But, anyway, it's nice to pretend that these guys are my friends or lovers who are taking care of me in my feeble state. I made it ambiguous because I figured more people could get more out of this, plus it didn't feel necessary to make it solely romantic or platonic. Anyway, feel free to send in Schitt's Creek requests, especially for Stevie and Alexis, my beloveds.)

ALEXIS

The word ‘ew’ comes up a lot.

Alexis 100% keeps her distance*.

She’ll be in the room with you, but she will have one foot out of the door.

At some point, you will ask her for a box of tissues, and she will throw them at you from across the room like she’s feeding something she’s afraid of.

If she hits you in the head with it, she will offer up an apology.

*She’ll work up the courage to inch closer and closer to you, until eventually she’s at your bedside.

She’ll spend a lot of time on her phone to the point that it feels insulting that she’s blatantly ignoring you when you’re feeling this awful, BUT she is actually spending a lot of time looking into the best ways to treat your cold.

She might get distracted by some gossipy headlines between medical articles, though.

You will be able to tell when she audibly gasps and reads out the headline to you with shock and glee.

You’ll have to tell her if you want anything because she will not, at least to begin with, take initiative.

She tries to get out of going to the drug store herself, and she asks Ted, Twyla, her parents, David and Stevie if they can go on her behalf because she claims to be too busy taking care of you to go herself.

But, she’ll go herself when no one ends up being available, and she’ll ask you not to die while she’s gone.

If you’re asleep when she gets back, she’ll repeat your name, poke you and shake you until you wake up, startled and slightly irritated.

But, it’s just because she’s worried you’re dead/dying, which you are absolutely not allowed to do on her watch.

It comes from a place of caring about you <3

According to her, it would be ‘super embarrassing if you died from a cold’.

She’ll proudly show you everything she bought from the drug store, and she’ll buy you an unnecessary present because she knows that receiving a gift would make her feel better if she were ill.

By the end of it, she actually kind of enjoys taking care of you, and she’ll take great pride in your recovery.

DAVID

David is very similar to Alexis when it comes to taking care of you.

He will ask you if you’re sure there’s no one else available to take care of you, and he will resort to suggesting people you’ve barely spoken to until he eventually just caves.

Like with Alexis, David will not make an effort to disguise how utterly repulsed he is by you.

He will insult you so many times, mostly without meaning to be so offensive, and he will sheepishly apologise for it when you send him an unimpressed glare.

He’ll keep his distance, not as much as Alexis, but he definitely keeps you at least at an arm’s length.

He ends up stinking of hand sanitiser because of how often he keeps applying it.

If you ask him to get you something, he will do it with a sigh.

Every time you cough or sneeze, he flinches like a brick’s been thrown through the window.

He’ll tuck his nose and mouth under his top if/when you have a coughing or sneezing fit.

He’ll go as far as to offer to make you soup or go to the store so he doesn’t have to be in the same room as you.

But he’ll insist that he just wants to help you feel better.

You do not buy it.

Despite his boredom, he’d feel rude spending too much time on his phone (or you might tell him to get off his phone because you’re bored, and he’d rather not deal with that), so he’ll end up putting a trashy reality show on to distract you from how you’re feeling (and to entertain himself).

Seeing you so under the weather does make him feel genuinely bad for you.

The only reason he accepts his role as your unqualified nurse is because he cares about you, whether or not he clearly expresses that.

But, he does start to think more about you than himself as the day goes on.

Like, he forgets about his own self-pity that he felt about having to spend his day taking care of you.

Regardless of how awful you look and feel, he will tease you about being sick.

Any pity he expresses for you is said with heavy sarcasm and condescension.

You can get back at him by throwing a snotty tissue at him.

It will deeply upset him.

STEVIE

Of the three of these guys, Stevie is the least repulsed by you.

She’s still at least slightly disgusted by you.

But, she’s nowhere near as dramatic about it as Alexis and David are.

She will only slightly hesitate to get near you.

But, it’s more because of her guarded nature as opposed to any aversion to your sickness.

She’d rather not get sick herself, but she won’t go to the lengths that Alexis and David will to avoid it.

A small part of her wouldn’t mind getting sick only because it’d be funny to upset David with it.

Like David, she will make fun of you and laugh at you for being sick, because one of her main love languages is mocking the misfortune of her loved ones.

She will tell you how gross you are, even if it doesn’t actually bother her that much.

She will half-heartedly apologise if you’re obviously not amused by it.

Of Alexis, David and herself, she is the most proactive, which might be surprising considering that, when she’s working, she rarely bothers to get up and do things unless prompted, and even then she’s pretty hesitant.

But, she’ll offer to go to the drug store before you have to ask her.

She’ll insist that you’ll feel better after a glass of wine, but it’s obvious she just wants a glass of wine, too.

She’s very attentive to you.

Sure, she’ll go on her phone, especially when you’re sleeping, but she won’t neglect you.

She enjoys your company, which she doesn’t express in any way besides the fact that she will have conversations with you that last for hours.

Like with David, you’ll probably end up watching some dumb TV show to distract/entertain yourselves.

She will take it upon herself to remember when you have to take your medicine, and she’ll be great at reminding you to drink something when she notices you haven’t in a while.

Of course she’ll say it in her own Stevie way that makes it seem like she doesn’t really care (but you know her well enough to know that she does).

“You might wanna drink something if you don’t want to sound like the Babadook anymore.”

Stevie’s concern for you and your recovery may not be at all overt, but she does sincerely want to see you get better.

After all, just sitting with you in your room all day gets pretty boring when you’re not feeling like yourself and you keep falling asleep.

#schitt's creek #schitts creek #schitt's creek x reader #schitts creek x reader #alexis rose x reader #david rose x reader #stevie budd x reader #alexis rose #david rose #stevie budd #x reader #x gn!reader #x gn reader #x gender neutral!reader #x gender neutral reader

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writingformadderton · 2 years

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Masterlist

Heyy, underneath the cut you find all our posted fics. The link to a second masterlist with all our Madderton series is below this text. We hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST 2

Work Count: 68

Characters/Actors written for:

Taron Egerton (x Richard/ x Reader (female/male))

Richard Madden (x Taron/ x Reader (female/male))

Eggsy Unwin (x David)

David Budd (x Eggsy)

Joe Mazello (x Reader (female))

Madderton

Love is worth sharing

Treat you better

I'm right here

Please come back to me

Carpool Karaoke

Back to you

Weak Spots

Merry Christmas, love

I know I'll always be safe with you

Sunday Mornings

I'll always protect you

Touch me

Speechless

Rough with me

Unsteady

Happy Valentine's day, Daddy

Coming home

Change of Heart

I'm something stupid, do me

Happy birthday, bub

Happy birthday, baby

Just an offer, mate

Temptation

Panic.

Insecure

Why don't you kiss me?

Why don't you kiss me Part 2

Being a brat

Suprise date

Oops in Vegas

This feeling inside

To the moon and back

Looking gorgeous, Sir (CEO x assistant)

I'm gonna love me again

Plank all over me

I need you

Birthday Blues

Happy Birthday, Richie

Want you to be mine

A better life

Love, you are amazing

He's perfect

Somewhere safe

Only yours

Still

Don't be a tease

Nightmares

I prefer you having control

You're in for a treat

Valentine's Day

Blissful hours

Taron Egerton

x Female Reader:

Flaws and all

You'll be okay

Say it

Mine

Reflections

x Male Reader:

I missed you

Richard Madden

x Female Reader:

Please, Miss

Yes, Sir

Homesick

x Male Reader:

Comfort

Madderton x Jophie

Proposal

Hesitate

Christmas was fun

Eggvid

You're my hero

I think you should leave

I think you should stay

Joe Mazello

Love at first sight

#taron egerton #richard madden #taron egerton fic #richard madden fic #madderton fic #madderton #eggvid #eggsy unwin fic #david budd fic #joe mazello #joe mazello fic #masterlist

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beananacake · 2 years

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The Accidental Princess (Part 12)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found after twenty years, bearing your name and the Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Synopsis: You awake and see how everything has changed since your vanishing

Word Count: 13.6k words

Warning: angst, violence, mentions of death and blood and murder, period-typical misogyny, long and maybe a bit of a boring chapter?

A/N: Hello my loves. I'm so sorry it's been so long. I promised you I wouldn't abandon this fic and guess what, TAP 13 is also finished! I just need to write the Epilogue and we're all gucci ;) I love it when you leave me little comments of your thoughts so please, don't be shy to leave some! I love it when you reblog this fic too! As usual, not beta'd, all mistakes are mine. Enjoy Part 12! (13 is coming a week or so after this!)

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The storm had taken a turn for the worst.

The once-calm sea had become violent in a matter of seconds and it had sent the crew of the ship into a frenzy, with incoherent orders barked from one sailor to another. Some had hoisted the sail, some had turned the mast and turned it whichever way the wind blew, and some had taken the supplies back to the deck below. Your father had grabbed hold of the helm along with the captain, doing their best to steer the massive oceanic vessel with the storm. You learned that fighting with the storm was futile; to go against it was instant death. You knew of no one who had gone against it and had survived.

Your grand blue skirts brushed against the barrels, halting you in your steps. You had always changed into your shirt and breeches whenever you were in your travels but now, you had failed to do so because your mind had been preoccupied with his smile and laughter and the way he answered the archbishop—

You could not change into different clothes now, especially so when the sailors were struggling with the strong winds and would not care less for how you appeared.

You spied one crewman floundering with his end of the rope, holding on to it for dear life, as the wind blew on the sail. No one seemed to have noticed him and so you rushed to his aid, grabbing hold of the hemp rope with both of your hands and gave the mightiest tug you had ever given.

“Y/N!” You heard your father cry out to you.

You lifted your eyes to the stern where your father stood with the captain, unable to shield your eyes from the rain as both of your hands were holding on to the line. He was pointing towards the cabin, shouting orders that were drowned by the crashing waves.

You knew what he meant, that he wanted you to return to the safety of the cabin, but you could not find it in you to leave the crew to brave the storms themselves. You were not some helpless lady, prone to fainting at the sight of something unseemly, and you did not wish to be alone if—or when—the ship turned into a watery grave for you and the rest of its passengers. No, you did not want that. You shook your head wildly at your father, hoping he saw it through the thick curtain of the rain and in the bleakness of the sky, and heaved once more as you pulled on the rope.

“Miss!” said the sailor beside you. “You must return to the cabins!”

“No!” you told him. You grunted with effort as you pulled on the line, hoping all that you were doing had an effect, even if it were small as compared to theirs. “I will not leave you!”

“Miss Y/N, the storm will only blow you away—”

You planted your heels against a barrel, the wind quite literally sweeping you off your feet. You hoped he did not see the coincidence of his words. “I am quite all right!”

Arms grabbed at your waist. Your sudden abduction made you drop the rope and you squirmed to break free. The arms were tight against you, knocking the air from your lungs and you could not voice your protestations despite the many of them that came to mind. It hauled you with him, moving you farther away from the once-struggling sailor, bringing you to the safety and dryness of the captain’s cabin.

“Please, Miss,” pled the sailor before he locked you within.

You tried pulling the door open but to no avail. The crewman had indeed locked you in with no intentions of setting you free whilst the storm was still raging. You would not stand for that. Your fists pounded at the door and you pled with whomever was outside to release you so you would help. Your request fell on deaf ears.

The ship gave a mighty lurch along with the wave and it sent you staggering backwards, landing heavily against the corner of the captain’s dresser. Pain erupted on your side and you cried out at the surprise of it. And before you could recover, the ship crested once more. This time, it rose much higher than before.

You were flung backwards, the force of the sea too strong for you to counter. It sent you flying back against the south wall, along with the many items that were scattered on the captain’s desk. A lit lamp flew by your ear and shattered upon impact, plunging the cabin into darkness. Maps and charts were tossed to your person. A large tome nearly hit you on the head, and an inkpot missed your hip by an inch. And when you thought it over, you heard the peculiar creaking.

It was a different type of creaking, one that made the hairs on your arm stand in fright, one that was unlike the usual sound of the squeaking doors. You had not one idea where it could possibly come from and you paid it no heed until the next shifting of the sea vessel. You had not moved from your position in the south wall—a mistake because the unusual sound had been the loosening of the bolts that held down the captain’s mahogany desk to the floor. With the ship’s near vertical ascent, the heavy woodwork came barreling towards you and in a matter of seconds, had you pinned against the wall, momentarily seizing you of your breath upon impact.

You gasped at the force; pain nearly blinding. The mahogany office trapped the lower half of your body along with your left arm, rendering you immobile, save for your other arm that you used to thump against the desk.

“Help! Help me!” You shouted as loud as you could with the piece of furniture pressing down on you. Your palm beat the desk until it hurt for you to do so, and still, like before, no one had come through the door to your aid.

“Help! Help, please!” You cried out. You labored your every breath, the motion of the ship not helping you because every movement only pressed the large desk closer to you.

Another wave hit the ship. The force of it moved the desk, giving you and it a wide berth, enough for you to move away. Whilst successful, you had not accounted for the other furniture in your haste to get away. As you moved closer to the door, you tripped on the raised carpet edge and the same dresser that you had fallen on before, now fell on you. Or rather, fell on your leg.

You gave a howl of pain, at the heft of the solid mahogany dresser and its attempt to squash your ankle flat. You knew the joint had broken upon impact and as you tried to pull away, you somehow felt your foot detaching from the rest of your leg. You felt sick to your stomach at the mere idea of it.

You grappled blindly before you, grasping for anything you could use to haul yourself from under the heavy woodwork. Your nails scraped against the wooden floor until your hand found purchase on a strewn piece of rope. You held onto it tightly and with all the strength you had left, pulled yourself from under the furniture.

“Help!” You cried as you dragged yourself. “Please, anyone! Help me!”

From your position on the floor, you felt even the minutest of all actions about the ship. There were the hurried footfalls of the crew. Their shouts of orders reverberated through the floor. You felt the crashing of the waves against the side of the ship and how it rattled both the bones of the vessels and yours. Even the swooping and falling of the boat was intensified from your place and each motion made you sick to your stomach.

You willed your churning stomach to calm down lest you start retching. With all the strength in you, you pulled on the rope, working with the actions of the waves and the boat, only moving when the cabinet lifted with the ship. Your hands ached at the hard strands of the hemp rope but you paid it no mind; you wanted to be free. You needed to be free.

Outside, the winds bellowed. The cabin lit from the lightning and shook with the thunder.

You pulled yourself free from your trappings when the dresser lifted with the surging of ship. You swung your injured leg away from any other furniture in danger of falling over and tucked it under your dress, hoping against hope it was still useful. You clung on to the rope and used it to pull yourself closer to the door. You banged and pounced, crying for help, and no one still came for you.

There was a loud, inhumane moaning, one that made you pause in your desperate attempt to call the sailors’ attention. You felt the ceasing of the motion on the ship. No more rushing steps. No loud calls of order. No sound of the storm, even. It was as if everything stopped. Everyone stopped.

A breath caught on your throat at the thought of your father. You pressed your ear against the wooden door, listening intently for whatever sound that could tell you of the state of him but there was nothing. The gentle sloshing of the water against the sides of the ship were the only sounds you could make out.

You slammed your body against the door, putting all of your weight to it to push it open. It took you three tries—and with each try, you grew weaker—before it burst open. You fell on the floor as it broke free, the effort knocking the breath from you.

You sputtered and coughed but the gasp that came from you was not because of the impact. It was because all the men of the ship had vanished, save for the figures before you. Two of them laid on the floor, bathed in red liquid, and the other stood with its back to you. The other was a that of a woman, her body turned to the standing man, waiting. For what, you were fearful to find out.

“Father?” you called to one of the figures, hoping it was the one standing although the silhouette did not look like him.

You scrambled to the nearest body, dragging your own behind you. You harshly grabbed at the head and turned it to you, breath halting at the sight of Kit.

Kit. The prince. Your former husband.

His ocean eyes were unseeing. There was a deep gash that ran across his neck and it oozed blood like the brilliant scarlet ribbon you often saw the Princess of Zaragoza sport in her hair.

You did not know he was aboard the ship. You did not know that he had followed you especially after—

“Kit?” You pulled yourself closer to him, cradling his head on your lap, not minding that your skirt was being stained of his lifeblood. You slapped at his cheek, watching as your tears fell on his lifeless face.

“Kit! No! Please, do not be dead!” You begged of him, shaking him, slapping, pinching, doing whatever you could to rouse him. “Please, my love. Please!”

His azure eyes—eyes that once beheld you like you were the most precious thing in all the land—remained empty.

You cried as you curled against him, embracing him, refusing to believe he was gone. “Oh, Kit. I love you. Forgive me. I did not know. I did not know…”

The harsh clattering of shoes sounded stark against the absolute silence. You did not relinquish your hold on him as you looked up at the source of the only sound.

“Ambitious girl,” it snarled.

You swallowed at the dread that kissed your back. You knew that awful voice and yet, you refused to acknowledge it.

“You thought you could save him from me but you’re mistaken,” the Grand Duke snapped.

He grabbed a hold of your face, turning you to him harshly, trapping your chin in one of his hands. His other was turned into a fist and was raised in attack.

“You’re next.” And his fist came down.

Your eyes flew open.

Kit. You had to find Kit. You had to see him—

You tried moving but there was a weight that stopped you. It was not as heavy or as solid as the furniture had been but it was rather plush, almost downy, but still quite hefty against your tender body. You attempted to lift your injured leg in hopes of knowing if it still had any use to you, but it felt as though it were caged in something. You could not twist it at all. It only laid motionless and the thought of paralysis scared you. You were immobile. They could easily get to you if you were immobile.

Was this some sick, cruel punishment conjured by the Grand Duke? Had he hit you and you had died upon his fist’s impact to your head? Was this the afterlife? What of Kit? Of everyone aboard the ship?

Your heart beat terribly in your chest, quick short gallops that made you fear it would burst from your ribs. You breathed shallowly and loudly, like gasps that racked your whole body. You felt your palms slick with sweat. It was too bright. It was too cool and warm at the same time. It was—It was—

You protested against your bindings, squirming to make space for you to move and be free but it was impossible. Your own body limited your movements because every squirm, every effort, made it hurt with an ache you had not experienced before. Your head had started to swim with the motion you were doing. You wanted to stay strong but your own body was weak and tender.

This had to be a part of the Grand Duke’s designs. He had failed in killing you when he had thrown you in that small hole and now, he had returned for you, returned to make good of his threats. He had bound you in these ties that were impossible to escape from.

“H-help!” You groaned weakly. Your voice scratched at your throat; the effort making you cough out the dryness. “Help! Help me!”

You thrashed and called out for help at the same time; not making any progress on either. The ties that bound you were tight, as was the vise that held your leg. You tried crying louder for help, hoping someone not employed by the awful nobleman would come to your rescue.

But when the doors flew open, all hope dissipated from your chest.

Princess Chelina entered through the doors, frantically looking about before her eyes landed on you.

You shook your head at the sight of her nearing you. She was his kin. She was an accomplice. She had to be. There was no reason for her to come barging to your room other than to inflict some kind of torture until you gave up living.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” she asked as she approached you. A forbidding feeling sat at the pit of your stomach.

“No. No, please. Not you,” you pled. You turned from her and yelled out. “Help! Please!”

“I am here to help!” She exclaimed over the loudness of your voice. “Tell me what is wrong—Guards! Get the physician!”

Efforts proving successful, you scurried from her, finally able to move your sore body and you landed on a heap on the floor beside your bed. The slamming of your injured foot against the floor, coupled with your already-bruised body and aching head, made you howl out in pain.

“Guards!”

You knew you had to get away from her lest she tied you back to whatever torture device her uncle had chosen for you. Your efforts were piteous; you tried dragging your body to a corner, hoping to become small enough for her to ignore but instead, you moved at a snail’s pace. You could not even pull your body because it ached by just being there.

“Y/N, let me help—”

You looked at her, eyes wide in fear. “Please,” you rasped and begged of her, tears pooling in your eyes. “Please, stay away from me.”

The look she gave you was one of dawning horror. She moved closer to you—you flinched away and she stopped herself from even nearing you after that.

“I would never hurt you,” she said. She crouched before you and reached out a hand to you like you were some spooked animal. “I am not my uncle—”

Your body shook at the mention of the man, at the memories of what he had done to you. A tear rolled down your cheek as you shook your head when you refused her attempts of helping you.

“Please. Please.” You did not know what you pled for but you felt in you that you had to.

“You must get back to your bed,” she said instead. “You are injured. You need to heal.”

“He wanted to kill me,” was all you said.

“I know,” she whispered achingly. “I’m sorry.”

“He killed the queen,” you told her.

She did not react in the way you expected. She only nodded sadly and still held her hand out to you. “I know. Please, Y/N, you must return to your bed.”

You disregarded what she had said after she told you she was aware of the man’s actions. She knew? She knew her uncle had committed regicide? Queen Amalie had passed the year before and yet her uncle has not been apprehended since?

“You knew?” you asked her, fear leaving you momentarily. Taking its place was disbelief. “You knew he killed the Queen?”

She nodded. “Yes. I was told of his sins.” She bent closer to you, face imploring. “Please. Let me help you back to your bed.”

You shook your head as you moved away. “No. Stay away. Please, I beg of you.”

A familiar face appeared behind the princess. Abigail arrived, looking harried as though she had been running, and rushed to your aid. You clung to her and let her lift you from the ground, shaking your head to ward off the nearing princess.

“Abigail, please, please, don’t let her near me!” You exclaimed, almost crazed with fear at the thought of suffering again.

“Miss?” your maid asked, sounding confused at your request.

“Her uncle! The Grand Duke! He—He—he killed the queen!” You looked at your friend, grasping at her small body as yours shook with desperation to be heard, to be understood. “Abigail, I must find Kit. I have to make sure he is safe—”

Your maid nodded at you. “He is, Miss. The prince is safe. You must not worry.”

“What?” you asked weakly. “Kit is safe? Where is he? I must see him—”

“You cannot, Miss. He is attending the Grand Duke’s trial. He will not return until nearly nightfall,” cooed Abigail. She had helped you back to your bed, gently brushing the hair from your forehead. “I will inform him you have awaken once he arrives but for now, you must rest.”

Your eyes flitted to the Zaragozan princess who stood rooted before your bed. It had only occurred to you that you were not in the ship anymore, that you had been returned to the palace, in the same room the king had given you upon your first arrival.

But the ship? Was it a dream? you thought to yourself confusedly. It was too vivid to be anything but, too lifelike especially when the dresser had fallen on you. But only, it did not fall on you and instead, you have fallen from a great height and your body had ached upon the impact.

It slowly came back to you, of the riotous storm and the rising waters, the jagged stones that pricked and stabbed at you, of the darkness that you feared would have made you blind. You had been feverish too and had hallucinated to comfort yourself.

But you could not recall anything of when you were rescued, no face nor voice at all to tell you who it had been that had saved you. You remembered singing the lullaby your mother had sung for you when you were a child. The hallucinations of her felt real, like she had indeed come from beyond the grave to comfort you. She had kept you company and you knew you would have gone with her if she had urged you to, if you had not been found by whoever recovered you from that dark space.

If your being on the ship was a dream, then none of that had happened. Kit did not—What Abigail said of Kit’s being in the trial must be true. He is safe. He is safe, you assured yourself, trusting Abigail’s words.

“The physician will see you now, Miss. I will leave you with the Princess—” Abigail turned to go but you grabbed at her hands.

You shook your head a little too wildly than normal, tightening your grip on your maid’s hand. “Do not leave me, please.”

“Princess Chelina will—”

“No.” You pulled Abigail closer to you, clinging to her like you were a small child. “I do not want to be left alone with her.”

The look she shot the princess was stricken. “Your Royal Highness—”

“It is all right, Abigail.” came the Princess’s reply. It sounded defeated and mournful; nothing at all how you remembered her to be. “I shall be in my chambers if there is need for me.”

Abigail bobbed a curtsy and turned to you. She brushed the hair off your face, nodding comfortingly. “I will remain, Miss, but the physician must have a look at you.”

The royal physician came and examined you; he deemed you safe from your bout of fever but he remarked that the bruises and aches you felt would remain for some time. The broken bones were the result of your fall and while the physician had done all that he could, the rest was left for nature to heal you. There was only a dull ache when he pressed and prodded at the once-tender parts of your body, a sign that he deemed you were near recovery. Your falls while attempting to leave the hole resulted in scars around your body; most were small scratches but the deeper ones had been healed and had scabbed over.

Your foot, however, was another matter entirely. He postulated that you had fallen on top of it and the weight of your body broke your ankle. He had placed your foot in a splint to prevent you from unnecessarily moving it and would remain so for months or until the bones and muscles had properly healed. The swelling had gone down—he told you it looked far more grotesque when you were rescued—but it still, it had not gone back to normal.

And your hysterics—you hated the term he used but you knew those were that—were the result of the mental trauma. Do not think of the man or his deeds, Miss, the physician said but you knew it was far easier to be told of that than to do it. You could not help that your nightmare of the Grand Duke having slayed Kit on your ship was fresh on your mind and had haunted you ever since you woke. You also could not tell him that the sight of Princess Chelina had triggered the great anxiety from you or else you risked sounding rude towards the Zaragozan princess.

“Your mental fortitude is strong, Miss,” the physician said as he mixed a vial of medication to your cup of tea. “I have had patients go mad when they were forced to face those who tortured them. I do not think you are in any danger of that.”

You could only look at the man, refusing to respond because you were at the brink of insanity with every passing moment you could not see Kit.

“But for now, you must rest once more. The ordeal of waking up and with your anxiety has taxed your mind and body.” He passed the teacup to you and you downed the contents like a parched castaway, drinking the bitter concoction to the dregs. You had not enough time to comment on the extreme tartness of it because sleep overtook you.

When you came to, the curtains were drawn to reveal the dark night sky. The rains had ceased and the full moon illuminated the grayness of the clouds as they floated by. Your room was kept dim, the only light coming from the crackling fireplace. Two shadowed figures spoke in hushed tones before it, heads bent as if in deep conversation.

You craned your head sideways to look for your maid, hoping she was still present in your chambers but from your position on the bed, you could not find her. You rose with the use of your elbows, the ache resonating all over, pain nearly forcing you back down the bed but you carried on, and you grunted as you felt your muscles lock. Your actions rustled the thick covers that were laid on top of you. The conversation between the two figures stopped and both heads simultaneously turned to you.

“Y/N!”

It was Louis who approached your bed first, a wide and relieved smile about his face. You sank back and watched as he sat on the edge before taking your hands in his.

“Imagine our relief to hear you have awoken. I was beginning to doubt your maid’s word because when we arrived, you were still asleep like how you had been the week past.” He gave your hands a gentle squeeze.

Your attention moved from the Duke of Granville to that of the other silhouette, who now rose from the seat and marched its way to you. The figure stopped at the foot of your bed, watching you with its sapphire-like eyes. Kit.

Kit was here.

Kit was alive.

You only beheld the man you loved, wanting nothing more than to run in his arms but knew it was impossible because of your broken body. He looked as how you remembered him from your waking moments and from the nightmare—eyes as blue as the calmest seas and the clearest skies. Shoulders broad and strong but now they dropped as if from exhaustion. Face handsome as ever but he appeared gaunt as though he had not had sleep for days. Kit remained at the foot of your bed, watching you with his tired but hopeful eyes.

“Must we call for the physician? Your foot has been rendered immobile by the good doctor. He said it was to ensure its proper healing. If it is hurting, we must tell the man at once.”

You turned to your dearest friend and looked at him blankly, had heard him but you did not comprehend his words because your thoughts were preoccupied with Kit.

“Why aren’t you speaking? Have you gone mute? Good god! Will a high fever make one voiceless?” He frowned at you now, frantically searching your face, still holding your hands in his.

Despite the heaviness you were feeling, a chuckle bubbled from you at the duke’s panicked ranting. It was a harsh sound but a sound of happiness, nonetheless. You squeezed his hand, assuring him that you were well. “How will I talk if you did not give me leave to speak, Louis?”

He laughed at that, enveloping you in an embrace. He was gentle against your sore body, cradling you in his arms like you were a newborn babe. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his tense shoulders relax when you reciprocated the action. Your heart sang out for the duke. You could only imagine the horror they went through to find you and to wait for you to wake once they had.

When he drew back, he smiled at you with the same jesting smile you came to love.

“Always with that smart mouth of yours,” he told you. “You have to be careful with your investigation from now on, pet. I am not always present to save you,” he japed once more.

You rolled your eyes at him in a show of affection. “I thank you, oh my knight in shining armor.”

“I was not wearing an armor then when we rescued you. And my silk shirt was drenched and ruined when I plunged into the lake to search for you.” He sulked rather childishly and you chuckled at the absurd sight of the handsome, charming duke.

“I’ll be sure to ask the tailor to round up two fine silk shirts for Your Grace.” You said with false gravity. Oh, how you missed this!

“Very good.” He grinned. He sobered as he took your hands once more in his. “Pet, you must know I did not call for you to go in the library. It was not me.”

Your heart thudded against your chest, losing the lightness that came to you instantly. You gave a sad smile, disguising the shiver of fear for one of coldness. “I surmised as much,” you rasped and you cleared your throat. “But it hardly matters now.”

Louis squeezed your hands once again. “Chelina told me that you refused her presence.”

You drew your hands back and kept them under your covers, hiding from them the way they trembled at the princess’s name. “She—” You frowned and harrumphed, swallowing the hard lump that now resided on your throat.

“She is his kin,” you told the duke in a small, shaky voice. “She had no reason to be in my room or come to my assistance.”

He gave you a sad shake of his head, disagreeing with what you said. “She is also his victim. And she has kept watch of you while Kit and I attend the trial. It is her penance, she said, because she is his niece even though she is faultless in all that has happened.”

You had not thought of Chelina as the Grand Duke’s victim. It was jarring to know the nobleman’s manipulation knew no bounds—his machinations were not exclusive to Kit and his family. Even his own family he deceived, all because he could. Gooseflesh rose from your skin and you rubbed at them.

“And yes, he is in trial. He will not harm you any longer.” Your friend assured you.

You nodded absently, hoping his words to be true. Your dream felt ominous.

Louis looked back at his cousin, who still stood unmoving in his position, before his eyes returned to you.

“He was insufferable when you had vanished,” the duke said and you heard the jesting in his tone.

You gave a weak smile at Louis’s attempt to joke. Your eyes then flicked to Kit’s, who only watched you quietly.

“I shall take my leave. Kit has been hoping to see you awake since your rescue. I would not want to make him wait any longer.” He took your hand and placed a delicate kiss atop it. “Call for me if you wish for better company, pet.”

The jolliness of the duke was infectious and, even as you were still reeling from the mental torture the Grand Duke’s attempts of killing you had inflicted, you could not help the smile that graced your lips. He gave you a brotherly kiss on your forehead and whispered that he was glad to see you awake and nearly back to your pesky self, to which you replied that you only gleaned it from his behavior. With a laugh and a pat on his cousin’s shoulder, he left your chambers.

You watched Kit from your bed, at the way he did not move to near you. He only beheld you with warring expressions; from anger to pain, disbelief to assurance, from the way his eyes seemed steely with memories before it melted and made way for the familiar love you saw in them. The relief that emanated from him was near palpable and it bled through you, easing your mind and calming you.

The lifeless Kit only belonged in your nightmare. This was the truth. This Kit before you, he was real and alive and—

“Are you all right?” you asked when he still made no move to come to you.

“Are you?” he countered, voice quiet.

Despite you wanting to answer in the affirmative, a whimper escaped your lips. The emotions that assailed through you were too much to bear. You loved Kit, loved him more than you could ever love anyone, and to see him before you—in the flesh and not as some febrile hallucination or in your nightmares—brought out all the frustration and fear and pain in you.

Your tears spurred him into action; his arms were now around you as sobs racked your body. They were pitiful sounds, not unlike the same tears you cried at the announcement of your separation. You clung on to him, leeching off of him to appease yourself. He was the salve to your pain, the comfort to all your aches, and if he let you take what it was that he offered to heal you, you greedily accepted it.

He drew back from you and his thumbs swiped at the tears that tracked down your cheeks. His cerulean eyes looked at you with all of the love and worry in the world, a frown marring his handsome features and morphing his face into that of utmost concern.

“Are you in pain?” he asked of you, ache lacing his voice.

“I was so scared,” you choked out in between sobs. “I thought I would not return to you. I thought I had lost you—”

He shook his head with an intensity you had not seen from him before, as if he would not allow you to entertain such a thought. “Do not think of that, my love. I will always come find you wherever you are, never doubt it.”

In spite of all his assurances, more tears welled in your eyes. You let them come, basking once more in the comfort of your love’s arms. Kit only held you flush against his chest, murmuring assurances that you knew were for the both of you. You clung to him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, felt him tremble as he embraced you with such ferocity that it made you weep some more. Once you had spent all the tears, you pulled from him and almost shied away if he had not taken your chin softly by his fingers. He turned your face to him, his ocean-like gaze soft and loving.

“I love you,” he said. “Never think otherwise.”

You nodded, knowing you would not.

And like the capricious seas, his gentle eyes turned stormy. Gone was the fond expression and in its place was that of tortured pain. The emotion clouded his eyes, changing his entire face, and he turned from you to hide it.

“Forgive me for not coming for you sooner,” he said and you heard how he choked on his words as well. “We were gathering evidence as quick as we can but it was not fast enough. And the Grand Duke refused to tell me where you were. It had only been by his mistake that he revealed you would have drowned if we were too late. And… And while we were not too late when we found you… Louis and I…”

Your chest ached when he failed to continue, as if voicing them would bring him more pain. No matter how he tried, he did not follow through his words. He now looked at you with his troubled eyes, eyes that had seen horrors you would not be able to comprehend.

You placed your palm flush against his chest, felt the thundering beats of his heart so similar to your own. You longed to take the pain from him, to return the warmth he gave you as he calmed the fear that once laid in your chest. Kit suffered enough. You would not allow anything to hurt him anymore.

“You were calling for your mother,” he said in a voice so hushed, it was nearly drowned by the sound of the crackling of the fireplace. “I knew she was gone; I had seen the shrine your father built for her, but you were holding a conversation with her. You were answering questions only you could hear and I—”

A tear glistened as it slid down his cheek. He swallowed thickly and you saw the lump as it worked on his throat. “It reminded of my mother. She had been delirious on the day she died. So when you called out to your own mother, when you only looked past me when I finally had you in my arms… I thought I was too late. I thought I was bound to lose you too.”

“Oh, Kit.” Your own eyes burned with tears and you felt them fall down your cheek. It must have been difficult for him, to have seen you in that state and be reminded of how his own mother had died. But you did not pass unlike his mother. He needed assurance that he arrived just in time for you.

Your hand that was on his chest moved to cup his cheek and you wiped the tear with the pad of your thumb. “You found me. I am here.”

“But I was too late—”

You shook your head at him gently. “No. No. You were not. I did not drown. I did not perish.”

Taking his hand, you used it to cup your cheek, leaning into it as if to say you were not a mere illusion. That you were present because of him. You hoped you brought comfort to him like his presence had with you.

“All I could ever think of was you,” he told you. “Even when my father was recuperating from his own brush with death, all that worried me was finding you.”

“All I could think of was you, too,” you said as you looked at him.

Kit's lips met yours in fiery desperation, hungry to feel you closer, wanting to absorb you into his very being. His hands moved to your face, cupping your head as his lips danced on your. You tasted his tears along with his relief and frustration, savored the salt and the sweetness of his lips. You threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer than ever, hearts beating in time with each other as your chest pressed against his. Your fingers vanished in his thick hair on his nape, grabbing a handful of it when he suddenly deepened the kiss. Your own mouth moved with his, a new bravery coming to you and you ventured on, even tasted more of the salty tears that had now come from you. Kit was real, this was real. You had found each other. It was all that mattered.

You loved Kit, you could not deny it any longer. You loved him above everything you held dear in your heart. You loved him mightily, loved him with your whole being and you wanted nothing more than to remain in the protection of his arms. You survived to love him, this much you knew. And love him, you will. Without constraint. Without a second thought. Without a care for the judgement of others. He loved you and you loved him. It was all that mattered.

You cried out when his hands pressed against your bruised back, and he pulled his mouth from you, seeking your eyes for any pain. You only buried your face on his neck, breathing deeply and inhaling his scent and found comfort in it from everything that ailed you.

“I love you,” you whispered against his skin. You laid your hand on his chest and felt the fast drumming of his heart, rhythmic with your own. “I am yours to undo, Kit.” you said, repeating the words he had said to you.

He kissed your crown gently. “I love you,” he whispered against your hair. “I will love you forever.”

You remained in each other’s arms after you kissed, sharing no words between you. It was the unsaid that spoke volumes, of the words that did not need saying but you both knew what they were.

It was after a while that you asked how and where he found you. He had replaced you back in your bed, a mountain of pillows behind you as it propped you upright. He still clasped your hands in his, refusing to forgo any contact with you. His thumb brushed gently across the skin of your knuckles, a soothing action that put the both of you at ease.

“The lake we were searching sat near the mountain ridges that held the mines. Something called me to them. It told me to come and seek there. I thought it had been my mother’s spirit, calling to me to rest my head before I go for another search of you. So I went.”

He then told you of how Louis refused to follow the singing voice but reluctantly helped him when Kit told him he was free to leave. It had been your singing that led you to them, and your hallucination of your mother dangling a ribbon to you had been Kit, dangling his own rope to haul you from the deep well. It was his voice that instructed you to tie the ribbon to your waist, the one who asked that you kept singing so you would not be scared. Kit’s eyes were the familiar blue you remembered seeing before everything turned black.

“I am glad you are awake, my love. I would not know what I am to do without you.” Kit told you as you both waited for dinner to be brought to your chambers. He had told the butler and your maid that he and you were to sup in your room; he refused to leave you even for a while.

You gave a wan smile, recalling the nightmare that prompted you to wake and shuddering from it. Your reaction did not go unnoticed by Kit, who took your hand again in his and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles to calm you.

“I dreamt you died,” you whispered, watching as he stiffened against your hand.

He only looked at you with pained eyes, unmoving but did not let go of you. You held on to the warmth that came from him, feeling it strengthen you to tell him of your horrific nightmare. You felt the need to tell him of it, felt that you had to show that it frightened you into waking.

You struggled to gather your thoughts, not wanting to relive the mental torture but you knew it must be said. “I was on a ship,” you told him. “There was a strong storm and the crew were having a difficult time navigating the seas. We could not dock because there was no land in sight.”

“Where were you going?” he asked quietly.

You frowned and swallowed an impossibly large lump on your throat. “Anywhere away from you. I—I could not bear to see how happy you looked when you had married Princess Chelina. I refused to see you smile and not be the one to receive them.”

You let out a shuddering breath, shivering when you felt the phantom heaviness of the dresser against your crushed ankle. It was a dream, Y/N. It was only a dream, you told yourself. You told him what had happened in your nightmare, of the storm that appeared so suddenly to when you were pinned beneath the furniture. “I was able to free myself from the cabin and when I emerged on the deck, there he was.

“The Grand Duke.” You whispered shakily.

He pressed your hand against his cheek now, holding you close, and you felt the roughness of the growing stubble about his skin. The sensation was new but welcomed—anything else was welcomed compared to the pain you felt at the memory.

“The crewmen were gone. No trace that they had even been there at all. There were only four figures; the Grand Duke was standing there and had been holding something in his hand that he dropped at the sound of my voice, and the other two laid on the deck with blooding oozing from them. I do not know who the other one was but it was a female. I called out to my father, hoping he had been the one standing but I received no answer. Then I turned the head of the body closest to me and it was you.”

Your eyes burned. Tears blurred your vision as you looked at Kit’s blue eyes that had become your home.

“I did not know you had followed me when I left. I did not know why you did when you had looked content to be married to the princess but I was too late to ask all of those questions because the Grand Duke had killed you. Your eyes were open but they were glassy; they only went through me without seeing me. You did not rouse when I tried waking you. You did not—”

You sucked in a desperate breath, feeling your throat constrict as your nightmare flashed before you. “You were dead. He killed you. And he wanted to kill me too.”

Kit’s arms wrapped around you once again and he made a soothing sound as he ran his hands in your hair. You released another wave of tears, crying at the sight—at the mere idea—of the Grand Duke coming after the prince. You were defenseless with your still-healing body; although you knew the possibility of your dream coming true was low, it was not an impossibility for it to happen.

“The Grand Duke is under Captain Thibault’s custody now. His trial before the Magistrate is afoot.” Kit told you as he soothed you. “Prince Frederick will ensure we get the justice we deserve.”

You nodded quietly, accepting all that had been said. You relished to be in his arms, to feel the love that radiated from him, basked in it until you were spent from crying.

“Will you stay with me?” you asked of Kit. “I do not wish to be alone with my thoughts and my dreams.”

He pulled from you and gave you a soft smile, brushing his knuckles across your cheek to wipe away the tears. “My love, I will do anything you ask.”

You were anxious when the food arrived. It reminded you of the last time you ate at the Dining Hall, of the time when the king had ingested hemlock. You would have taken it absently, given how emotionally fragile you were then. Kit noticed your reluctance in eating and he sampled everything in your plate and his to show you that the food was harmless. He assured you that the Cook had also been held in custody for her alliance with the Grand Duke.

All other accomplice he had had been captured and kept, he had said, they will not harm us any longer.

Dinner was brief. You had taken only a few bites, despite Kit’s attempt at making you eat more, and you filled the rest of your empty stomach with tea. Kit only frowned but wisely did not comment. When dinner had been cleared away, you offered the space beside you on the bed for him to lie on. He refused, told you that your foot still needed healing and was mindful enough to take into account the many bruises on your tender body, and that he would stay on a chair to keep guard of you. You were exhausted by the end of that conversation and would have engaged in more if your eyelids had not shut close immediately after he assured you.

When you awoke in the morning, Abigail had taken Kit’s place on the chair and was mending your pink dress. She noticed you were awake and passed to you a note and a small bouquet of flowers. You left the bouquet on your lap and opened the missive, finding Kit’s elegant script informing you why he had gone so early.

My love,

I must see to matters of the kingdom while Father is resting. My Cousin and I will be absent for the day. Forgive us for not being able to spend much time with you. Princess Chelina has told me she is at your disposal come this afternoon, should you wish for it. Your maid Abigail will devote her time to you. She will not leave you until I arrive, perhaps by dinner or after. Let her be your hands and feet while you are taking your rest.

I had picked the flowers from the garden. I hope it will keep you company until I return.

All my love forever,

Kit

The bouquet was small: irises, begonias, daisies, and lavenders haphazardly put together and tied with a length of twine. You found amusement in the bouquet, arranging it in a way so they were not crowding against one side. You knew he took extra care in picking out lavenders as they were still plump and full of its sweet-scented buds, unlike the rest of the bunch that look as though they were merely an afterthought. But altogether, however, they were beautiful. You had asked Abigail to put them in a vase beside your bed.

Breakfast was much like dinner; Abigail sampled your food before you ate it and you only nibbled on eggs and bread before telling her your appetite had gone. Tea calmed your churning stomach and you plied yourself with the liquid every now and then, sometimes with sweetmeats when you had gotten hungry. Your maid did not comment on how little you ate but she often looked at you with worry.

“What news of the king?” you asked her when you had tired of looking out your drawn curtains and to the soft rain that was once the riotous storm.

“The king is well, Miss, but the physician says he is to rest until he regains his strength,” Abigail dutifully replied. “In the meantime, it is the prince who oversees the matter of the kingdom.”

You nodded. You wrung your hands on your lap as you asked her nervously: “And of his upcoming nuptials to the Princess Chelina?”

She dropped her mending to look at you, conflicting emotions on her face. She looked in part happy and hopeful, and she also looked sad and piteous at your question. You did not know which emotion was for you.

“They are not to wed,” she replied.

You frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“There are rumors, Miss, of the prince refusing the princess’s hand in marriage, especially after everyone learned of her uncle’s treachery.”

“Rumors?”

She nodded. “The King and Queen of Zaragoza arrived early today. The prince and the princess were called to meet them. We could only assume it is for the dissolution of their engagement since we have not been told to prepare for any festivities.”

“But the king has been insistent on them marrying.” He divorced me from his son for the sole purpose of him marrying the foreign royal, you wished to add but refrained from it.

“If so, they were to be married upon the arrival of her parents. The Head Housekeeper has not ordered meats and breads and flowers for us to prepare, and it takes an awful long time to do them, Miss.”

You remembered Kit’s missive, of Princess Chelina’s availability only in the afternoon. Your heart gave a wild thump at the coincidence of Abigail’s words and his letter. Will they really meet with Princess Chelina’s parents? Did he truly refuse to marry her? A hopeful voice in you asked. Kit would be free to marry whomever he chooses.

But do not assume it will be you, another voice said, this one a tad derisive than the other. The king insisted he wed a princess, not a country girl or a diplomat’s daughter, especially one who has brought on more trouble than what she’s worth.

You refused to acknowledge the evil voice in your head but you knew the words were true. Even if Kit and Chelina’s engagement were to end, his father would only find another princess for him to marry. And you were not. The king had made it glaringly obvious, most especially during your last dinner with them.

“Is the princess an accomplice of the Gr—her-her uncle?” you asked slowly, unable to express the words without feeling the kiss of dread on your back. Just the mere thought of the man sent you into a spiral of anxiety.

But Abigail shook her head a little too solemnly. “No, Miss. She has been frightened of him since learning what he had done to the queen, the king, and to you. She had kept watch of you ever since your return, all because she wishes to apologize for what he had done.”

Perhaps you had misjudged the princess when you awoke. In your dreams, she was Kit’s newly wedded wife, as was the king’s plan for her. And the ribbon that she often wore on her hair looked so much like the terrible gash on Kit’s neck that leaked his blood. If Abigail spoke the truth, then when the princess burst into your room to heed your pleas for help… You cringed. You were monstrous to her. Louis was correct in saying she had been a victim of her uncle too.

You and Abigail talked of other matters and you were glad the topic was diverted into something else other than the awful man. She was enchanting company; she talked of her days with the Captain of the Guards and how the Head Housekeeper nearly caught them cavorting with each other. You were happy that she was happy with Captain Thibault and you decided that you were to ask for Kit’s help to bring them much closer together. And Abigail, loyal as she was to you, she decided then and there that if you were to leave the palace once you have recuperated, she would wish to be in your employ as your lady’s maid.

“Although,” Abigail had said as brushed your hair. “I wish you could remain here, Miss. The palace has become lively with you in it. It is like the days before Queen Amalie’s death has returned.”

You left your conversation at that.

Kit arrived by dinnertime.

“I hoped the flowers sufficed during my absence,” Kit said as he returned to his seat. He looked much improved since seeing him yesterday, as though your awakening had done wonders for him. He appeared to be jollier as well, making him look nearly identical with his cousin.

“They were lovely.” You smiled at him as he reached for your hand. “Thank you.”

“Louis shall join us shortly,” he informed you as he slipped his fingers in between yours. “How was your day?”

“Uneventful. I cannot leave my bed, even if I wanted to.” You gave him a sarcastic smirk, of which he returned with a laughing one. It was refreshing to be this open with him; a marked contrast after all the times you were forced to keep your love for him to yourself.

You watched him, debating on asking him about his and Princess Chelina’s engagement but you caught yourself. You were not in the position to ask him of such; it was his and the princess’s business. Despite the newfound candour you had with him, his relationships were a line you dared not cross.

“No one will stop you if you spoke what’s on your mind, my love,” Kit urged. “Tell me. I shall answer however I can.”

You bit your lower lip, wanting to ask him but at the same time, wanting to remain ignorant. What if the rumors were incorrect? That Kit and Chelina only met with her parents because they wished to push forward the wedding to an earlier date? That they only wanted a small ceremony so as to not draw much attention to how sickly the king was? What if they had already been married in secret?

“Y/N?”

“Is it true?” you blurted. You could not bear to remain in the shadows any longer. “That you and the princess will no longer marry each other?”

“Ah.” was all Kit said. He leaned back on his seat, stretching his legs, but he did not let go of your hand. “Yes, it is true.”

A wave of relief washed through you. But it was short-lived. His father will still want a princess for him, he had told you as much. You dared not hope.

“I was not present to watch you wake because we spoke with the King and Queen of Zaragoza today. Chelina and I told of our plan to not marry each other. They were quite peeved at the turn of events but they concurred when we told them the truth.”

You cocked your head to the side, watching his face. There was no regret on it and he only spoke as though it was all purely for business and for the kingdom. In that moment, he looked quite princely as he spoke.

“What truth?” you asked.

“That the engagement was her uncle’s machinations. The Grand Duke wished to install Chelina and control her once she becomes queen.”

You shivered. You would have guessed the nobleman was misogynistic if only his ire and disdain had been directed at other women as well, not just you.

You felt the gentle pressure of Kit’s hand against yours, belatedly realizing that your hand shook at the mention of the ghastly noble.

“While they maintained that they were unaware of his plans, they still urged us to honor the engagement since Chelina is already present in the kingdom.”

Your eyes flicked to him, at the wry twist of his mouth. You refused to name the way your heart broke at their suggestion. Surely, a prince and a princess could not decline such a suggestion, especially when it came from monarchs of a powerful kingdom?

“I have never seen the princess be so determined until earlier today.” Kit told you, now in amusement and awe. Your heart gave a painful thud at the admiration you saw that sparked in his eyes. “During the times she was here, she had been docile and aloof. When we spoke to her parents, there was a fire to her spirit. She told them it was her decision to not marry me because I had been through enough heartache and she would not want to saddle me with herself, seeing as I do not love her. She said it would be cruel of her to force the two of us to such fate when there is a solution to mine.”

You only kept watch of him, of the soft, loving smile that graced his lips as he now beheld you. Princess Chelina advocated for the dissolution of their engagement? Because she knew he did not love her? It was an absurd argument. You knew of other kingdoms whose kings and queens did not marry for love and yet their kingdoms thrived under their rule.

“In that moment, I knew she would make for a great queen.” Kit said proudly. “Just not mine.”

You were quiet for a while, letting the soft brush of his thumb against your hand fill your senses. “I have seen how Louis and Princess Chelina are fond of each other,” you said casually, looking for his reaction.

He chuckled heartily before he kissed the top of your hand. “Fond? They are in love, much like you and I.”

Oh. You smiled, unable to name the way your heart filled with happiness for your dearest friend. It seemed as though his longing stares were not one-sided as you had thought.

Conversations halted when the food arrived. You were famished from not having enough food throughout the day, having eaten only tea and sweetmeats, that you did not wait for Kit to sample your food for poison. He only smiled affectionately at you as you attacked your meal with vigor. Louis arrived when you were half-way through with your meal, smiling as he commented on how ravenous you were. You decided to ignore how unladylike you looked as you ate.

“Have you had your dinner?” you asked when he settled beside his cousin, a cup of tea in his hands. There was a tiredness to his face and you recalled the letter Kit had penned, of Louis helping him with matters of the kingdom.

“It was like a state banquet, pet,” he replied, stretching his legs and crossing it at the ankles. “I dined with my uncle and the King and Queen of Zaragoza. The only topics of conversation had been politics and economics.”

You smiled.

He looked at the cup in his hand, swirling the liquid in it. “I confess I miss having tea with you. Kit is surly whenever we have tea and I cannot seem to get your concoction right. Mine are always bitter or too floral to the senses.” He crinkled his nose for added effect.

You chuckled. “Perhaps he is surly because your tea does not taste pleasant.”

“You do not have to mince your words around me. You can tell me it is horrid; I heard Kit say it so. I know I do not possess a prowess for tea blending.”

You smiled. “Only for tea drinking, I fear.”

Louis erupted into guffaws. “Oh, pet, it is nice to have you back.”

The conversation carried on until the rest of the night. You learned that Louis had taken the role of adviser to Kit while he took care of the kingdom’s business. The matters of the kingdom had increased in number since the start of the trial. The devastation the storm had wrought added more to the already waiting pile of work that was left by the king and his perfidious adviser. But Kit and Louis did not protest their work. They merely talked of it as though it were an everyday conversation topic.

They had asked of your opinion for some of them, asked how it had been in other kingdoms and lands and if their plans would benefit the people more than burden them. Your inputs were appreciated by them; often times they would turn to each other and exclaim that you had found the solution they were looking for. Your heart warmed at the casual conversation. As the night wore on, you found yourself blinking and yawning more than you had in hours. You fell asleep as they were talking of the mines and the gemstones.

The days that followed were mundane at best. Kit had gone before you awoke but he always picked a small bouquet to leave you, always with lavenders. Abigail had brought an embroidery project so you were not weary of the same days. You were able to finish two cushions in a week. For someone who thrived on travelling and meeting new people, your confinement to your bed was like a punishment. You were a creature of adventure; keeping you in one place was almost physically painful to you. The pains in your body had gone, leaving you only with scattered dull aches and healing bruises, mostly from the places where you had broken your fall. Your foot was healing as expected but it was still not strong enough to carry your weight.

Come dinner, you were often accompanied by Kit and Louis would arrive soon after, telling you of more stories he heard from the Zaragozan royals during their supper. The skies had turned for the better; no more storms and if there were rain, it was only a spray-like mist that often entered your open window.

On the very week after you had awoken, you promised yourself you would speak to the princess after you had your lunch. You were not in any position to snub royalty and you felt you must apologize for your atrocious behaviour towards her. You believed you were well enough to face the kin of the man who wanted you dead without feeling any anxiety.

Princess Chelina arrived in your chambers, looking as haunted as when you had first seen Kit when you awoke. The pallor of her skin worried you, as were the tearstains that tracked down her hollow cheeks.

“Miss Y/N.” Despite her appearance, her tone was happy and relieved. “I see you are faring better.”

“Your Royal Highness, please forgive my lack of curtsying. The physician warned me against using my foot and he would not have me out of the bed before it is healed,” you said.

You saw that she kept a respectful distance from you. You gestured for the chair nearest to your bed. “Please, Your Royal Highness.”

When she sat, you motioned for the tea set that was beside her. Abigail had poured and prepared everything for your conversation with the princess. “Tea, Your Royal Highness?”

She graciously declined the biscuits but nursed her teacup in her hands. She watched you expectantly, still as regal despite the sadness that lurked behind her eyes.

“You must forgive my reaction to your coming into my room, Your Royal Highness. I thought—”

She raised a hand and halted your words. She gave a gentle shake of her head. “You must not apologize. It is I—”

“But you are a victim as well,” you said, frowning.

“As were you.” She sipped the tea, turning to look at the cloudy summer sky. “My uncle, he did horrifying things to you and to Kit’s family. I could not apologize enough for his transgressions.”

“It was not your fault, Your Royal—”

She turned to you, a soft smile on her lips. “Please. You must call me Chelina.”

You paused to smile, nodding smally at her request. “You must not burden yourself with the sins of your kin, Chelina. It was not your doing. You were unaware that such a thing happened. I apologize for making the mistake of thinking you were involved in his plans.”

The smile she gave you was polite and one of absolution. “I feel terrible for what he’s done. It wasn’t right. And he planned to marry me to the prince only so he could control me.” You saw the shiver than ran through her frame. “He is hideous. I cannot fathom the darkness that goes through inside his mind.”

“It is one darkness I would not wish upon you,” you told her gravely. “You were lucky to escape his clutches.”

“I truly am sorry, Miss—”

“Y/N, please,” you offered.

“Y/N. I am sorry you had to endure those days in the well. I could only imagine the pain and suffering you had gone through.”

You swallowed the lump that formed on your throat. Your palms had started to sweat and you wiped them on your covers. You breathed evenly for a few moments, steadying your heartbeat that started to drum in your ears.

“Those days are gone now. I am found. He is in trial. All will be well in the end.” You told her. You reached for her hand and gave a squeeze. “If forgiveness is what you seek for his crimes, then I forgive you even if you have no fault on the matter. Forgive yourself, too, for the sins that are not your own.”

She squeezed your hand in return and gave you a grateful smile. Her shoulders lifted as if your pardoning her removed the heavy burden from her. But still, you knew in yourself that the tears she shed were not for her uncle. They were for another matter entirely. You would have asked if she had not spoken first.

“Why did you not tell me you were wed to Kit?” Chelina asked as she drank from her cup.

It was bound to be brought up, you surmised. “The king wanted us to be divorced. It would not have mattered if you knew because our marriage would have been dissolved before your wedding to him. It would have been a great scandal if the people knew.”

The soft clanging of the cup against the saucer was the only sound in the room.

“Why?” you asked her. “Why will you not marry Kit?”

Chelina gave a tired, mirthless smile and ran a hand down her skirts, straightening it. “The queen’s premature death was by my uncle’s hand. I do not think the people would take kindly to his niece being the kingdom’s future queen. I will be unpopular with them and I will not serve my purpose if they do not want me to lead and serve them.”

“All for diplomacy, then?” you asked. “Not because of a certain duke, particularly one from Granville?” you ventured.

She stiffened in her seat and the sadness that lurked behind her eyes now resurfaced. Her lips quivered as a tear rolled down her cheek. She drew a hand to her mouth to shield away how it trembled at the mention of your dear friend.

“I am to leave tonight, for Zaragoza.” she whispered brokenly.

“But you love him—”

“Love has no room for princesses.” The scorn in her tone reminded you of her uncle but whilst his was of anger, hers was resigned and a resentment of her stature.

The composed façade she kept upon her entrance had finally crumbled. Gone was the regal Princess of Zaragoza and in its place was another lovelorn woman, regretful and mournful of the love she was to leave. You knew how the heartbreak felt—knew of it firsthand—but for someone in her stature, you could only fathom that it hurt a hundredfold.

“He is not a prince. My father and my mother will not choose a mere duke for me. They will find another royal in desperate need of a wife and they will offer me,” she spat hatefully although you could hear the surrender in them. Her tears flowed now but she made no move to wipe them.

You could only nod, words evading you. You let her cry, gave her leave to show the emotions you knew she would only hide from her parents.

“Have you said your goodbyes to him?” you asked quietly after she stopped her tears.

“I cannot,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I cannot face him. I… I cannot bear to see the pain on his face.”

You reached for her hand again and gave it a squeeze.

“I do not want to see him lonely.” She closed her eyes briefly and a frown marred her features. “It is not like him, to be sad. He is the epitome of jolliness and carefree leisure. It would be unnatural to see any other emotion on his face.”

You gave her hand another squeeze, in agreement to her words.

“Do you think he will be angry at me for leaving without saying my farewells?” She looked at you now, eyes wide and tearful once more. “Perhaps it will make it easier for him to forget me if he is angry with me. Perhaps it would be easier for me if he hated me.”

You shook your head passionately, pained that she would even consider such thought. “No. No. Louis is nothing of that sort. He will only hurt but he cannot hate you. He will never hate on someone he loves.”

Her lips trembled once again but she held herself. “How would you know? You and he are good friends. I doubt there was a time you deliberately hurt each other.”

You smiled sadly at the memory of the moment he knew of yours and Kit’s marriage and pulled back from holding her hand. “Oh, I had. When I did not tell him his cousin and I were married, he felt betrayed. It was the angriest I had seen him but he never hated me. He understood why I could not tell him. He would be understanding to your plight as well.”

Chelina took a sip of her tea and replaced it on the saucer clumsily. She took a shuddering breath and when you thought she had finally composed herself, another tear fell from her eye.

“Still, I cannot bid him goodbye,” she whispered achingly. “I do not want to remember his face and be reminded that I had been the one who put the pain there.”

You only nodded your head, understanding her. You would have done the same if Kit had married Chelina. “I understand.”

She took another sip of her tea.

“Would you like me to convey your goodbyes?” you asked of her.

She shook her head. “I do not know what to say.”

You watched her, wanting to pity her but refrained from doing so because you knew she would not let you. You had not known the princess long—had been avoiding her so she and Kit may spend time to get to know one another—but you knew she would make a great friend. Chelina was loyal and kind. And Kit was correct; she had the makings of a great queen. You could only hope the prince her parents would choose for her was kind and loyal as she was. Or the prince they would choose was a duke instead.

She deposited the cup and saucer on the table beside you. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“What for?” you asked.

“For your kindness to me despite what my uncle had done to you.”

You gave a smile, heart clenching at the sad tone of her voice. “It was not your fault. You must not burden yourself with his sins.”

If she were trying to smile, it ended looking much like a grimace.

“Would it be amiss if I were to ask you to be my friend?” you asked her.

You watched the stunned look at her face before it softened into one of graciousness. “I would be honored to call you my friend, Y/N,” she said

Your smile turned brilliant, as did hers. There was an instant camaraderie in the both of you. “I promise I shall write to you when you leave. I hope my letters will make do until I am well again to travel.”

“I shall look forward to them.”

You talked of other things for the rest of the day, learning that there were similarities between the two of you. She would have loved to travel if given the chance to and you felt the passion she had for music in the way she spoke of it. She talked of other personal matters, thoughts and ideas she had not shared to anyone except to you, her new friend. You, in turn, shared your other secrets that were unknown to Louis or to anyone else. You conversed as though you were old friends, and as the day went on did you realize that the princess had never been given the chance to become this animated with anyone else.

Your conversation was only interrupted when the royal physician arrived. Princess Chelina bid you farewell—almost reluctantly, you noticed—and left with a promise to show you her kingdom when you were to go there.

Kit arrived for dinner the same time as he had everyday for the past week.

“Did you know they were leaving tonight?” you asked as soon as he sat on his chair.

He did not need elaborating because there were only a handful of people who were bound to leave the palace that night. “Yes. It was decided when we talked to them a week past. The seas would be calm for them to travel safely.”

“Does Louis know?”

He paused. “No, I do not think so.”

You frowned. Surely, Louis would have heard talks of the Zaragozan royals’ leaving that evening. He would be privy to some gossip as he could charm anyone he wished.

“I heard you talked with Chelina earlier today.” Kit said as he took notice of the vase that held his daily floral pickings. You had not thrown any of the flowers he had given you, combining his old pickings with the new ones you had received earlier today.

“Yes, we both apologized to each other.” You replied distractedly, mind resolute on the matter. “Kit, Louis does not know she is leaving?”

He shook his head as he turned to you. “No. If he had, he would have mentioned it.”

“It will break his heart.” You almost saw how it would devastate him.

“I know.”

“He will be the surly one now.” And how unusual of him to be so!

“I know.”

“He would grumble and be insufferable about it.” Given how peeving he already was, it was no question how much more grumbly he would become.

“I know.”

You directed your grimace at him. “Kit, I cannot believe how nonchalant you are about this. He is your cousin. Have compassion on the man who is about to have his heart broken.”

He sighed, looking ruefully at you. “Forgive me, my love. You must know that I do care for him. Will you believe me if I said I had tried all that I could to convince her parents that he will suit Chelina despite his lack of royal title?”

You sobered. It was wrong of you to assume Kit did not care for his cousin. You sighed as well, apologetic. “I only worry for him. You know how much I love Louis despite how vexatious he could be.”

He took your hand and kissed it. “Of course. You are each other’s dearest friends. But the King and Queen of Zaragoza are resolute. They only want her to marry royalty. I could only do so much in my power.”

You did not doubt of his words. Chelina had said as much during your conversation earlier that day. And you knew Kit, knew he would resort to pleading if he had to, for the sake of his loved ones’ happiness.

You curved your hand on his cheek and felt the prickling of a stubble that was forming on his chin. You had become bold in touching Kit, dashing propriety for the sake of comfort. You and he always sought each other after the end of every day and had been inseparable since. “I’m sorry I’m being churlish. I cannot help but worry for him. I haven’t seen him in love but now that he has, he’s chosen the forbidden one.”

“Our love was forbidden as well but the world has conspired to bring us together after it tore us apart.” He smiled and you ran your thumb against his lips. He gave it a little kiss. “But her parents are set on their decision. They cannot be swayed. I can only hope they will choose right for her.”

You nodded. One could only hope for the time being. You smiled at him, smoothing the tired lines beside his beautiful eyes. “How was your day?”

He leaned into your palm. “Quite the same. More matters that needed seeing. The miners are trickling back to their mining village and will be hard at work soon. Our trade with Prince Frederick’s kingdom is slowly coming to fruition. The trial is also progressing as it should.”

You smiled at his accomplishments then bit your lip when a thought occurred to you. “If I take up your time that you can use for business, I would understand—”

“No,” he said as he shook his head. “Never. I always look forward to the time I would be spending with you.”

“Kit…”

“I finish quicker whenever I think of sharing my evenings with you.”

“But still—”

He raised an amused brow at you. “Is this your way of saying you’ve grown tired of my presence?” he joked, grin impish.

You chuckled at the unexpected joke. Now, you saw how he and Louis were related. “Oh, no! Never! I would never tire of you. I would always want to be in your presence. And you are far less vexing than your cousin. I find he speaks a lot. I would rather have you than him or any other person after a long day.”

“Good. I would hate to compete against someone for your attention.” He kissed your palm again. “I am a jealous man, my love. I do not think I would take kindly to the other person who vies for your time and affection.”

“Then you are in good luck because there is no one else but you.” you told him with a smile.

The smile that came upon his face was beautiful and splendid.

When Louis arrived, there was nothing on his face that told you he had any idea of the princess and her family’s imminent departure. He only appeared his jolly self, bearing with him a tray of tea tins and a steaming pot of hot water. His entire demeanour was one of blissful ignorance and you loathe to be the source of his heartache. You kept silent on the matter.

Louis would understand, you thought, convincing yourself that you were only acting in his best interest. The charming duke had been understanding before with your predicament. How different would this be?

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i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms · 1 year

Text

ALL RIGHTY welcome to my blog if you’re here then you probably saw this post and my username and said to urself “maybe I should see what this is about”

WELL, this blog is as my username says, I have too many fandoms and sometimes I write stuff for them. I will also reblog the fics that I read and enjoy so that you can read and enjoy them too. I may do requests but that’s a biiiiig ‘if’. I will now list the fandoms that I have and it will probably be added to.

~updated June 17th 2023~

Movies ⬇️

Descendants

- [ ] Harry Hook

The devil all the time

- [ ] Arvin Russell

Marvel

- [ ] Billy and tommy maximoff (STRICTLY PLATONIC/paternal)

- [ ] Bucky Barnes

- [ ] Captain Marvel

- [ ] Erik Killmonger

- [ ] Ikaris

- [ ] Loki

- [ ] Natasha Romanov

- [ ] (Mcu) Peter Parker

- [ ] (Tasm) Peter Parker

- [ ] (Tfatws) Sharon Carter

- [ ] Steve Rogers

- [ ] Yelena Belova

The Maze Runner

- [ ] Thomas

- [ ] Newt

- [ ] Minho

Top Gun: Maverick

-[ ] Bradley (Rooster) Bradshaw

-[ ] Jake (Hangman) Seresin

-[ ] Bob (maybe)

Uncharted

- [ ] Nathan Drake

TV Shows ⬇️

Arcane

- [ ] Silco

- [ ] Vi

- [ ] Jinx

- [ ] Viktor

The Bodyguard

- [ ] David Budd

Boku no hero academia

- [ ] Izuku Midoriya

- [ ] Denki Kaminari

- [ ] Hawks

- [ ] Bakugou Katsuki

- [ ] Eijirou Kirishima

Criminal Minds

- [ ] Spencer Reid

Game Of Thrones

- [ ] Robb Stark

- [ ] Jon Snow

Haikyuu

- [ ] Daichi

- [ ] Sugawara (sometimes)

- [ ] Ushijima

- [ ] Oikawa

- [ ] Tsukkishima

- [ ] Kita

- [ ] Bokuto

- [ ] Iwaizumi

- [ ] Yamaguchi

Stranger Things

- [ ] Eddie Munson

- [ ] Steve Harrington

- [ ] Billy Hargrove (just less racist)

- [ ] Robin Buckley

- [ ] Chrissy Cunningham

- [ ] Dimitri Antonov

Teen wolf

- [ ] Stiles Stilinski

- [ ] Isaac Lahey

- [ ] Allison Argent

Wednesday

- [ ] Derek Hale

- [ ] Theo Raeken

- [ ] Tyler Galpin

- [ ] Wednesday Addams

- [ ] Xavier Thorne (possibly)

Actors/actresses ⬇️

- [ ] Richard Madden

- [ ] Sebastian Stan

- [ ] Tom holland

- [ ] Chris evans

- [ ] Henry Cavill

- [ ] Sam holland

- [ ] Matthew Gray Gubler

- [ ] Dylan O’Brien

- [ ] Florence Pugh

- [ ] Cody Christian

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

finally ~ david budd;bodyguard

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight

word count: 1028

request?: no

description: after months of pining over one another, they finally get to do what they’ve truly been waiting for

pairing: david budd x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two)

series masterlist

When David walked into the house, (Y/N) had already showered and was sat on the bed wrapped in a towel. He wanted to go in and take her right then and there, but he was freezing from the swim and wanted a warm shower.

When he got out of the shower, however, she had suddenly vanished. He looked around the empty room, the only sound being a crackling sound somewhere downstairs.

“(Y/N)?”

“Down here, David.”

He followed her voice down to the living room where he found the source of the crackling noise: a lit fire in the fireplace.

He also found (Y/N) laid out in front of the fireplace, completely naked. Her hair was splayed out on the blanket underneath her and her hands were resting on her stomach. She turned her head lazily to look up at David, her eyes beautiful and innocent.

She looked at the towel still wrapped around his waist and said, “What do you still have that on for?”

In an instant, David dropped his towel and went to kneel next to (Y/N). She propped herself up on her elbows to meet him halfway, pressing her lips against his.

David’s calloused hands traced her soft skin, causing her to shiver.

There was so much anticipation and tension that had built up. They could barley stand the few moments of foreplay as David began to kiss her neck, his fingers lightly brushing at the spot between her legs.

“Please,” (Y/N) whispered. “I don’t think I can wait much longer David.”

David laid (Y/N) back and positioned himself over her. He continued to kiss her neck before moving down to her breasts, taking one nipple in his mouth at a time. (Y/N) shuddered as David’s tongue swirled around each nipple.

He lined himself up with her slick entrance and pushed himself into her. (Y/N) gasped, her nails digging into his back as he slowly pushed every inch of himself inside of her.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

(Y/N) shook her head. “N-No. Oh, David, please start moving or something. I already don’t think I can last long.”

David chuckled and lowered his head to kiss her again. He started to roll his hips into hers, slowly at first. He wanted to savor this moment that he had been waiting for for so long, even though he knew he’d have more opportunities.

(Y/N)’s head lulled back against the blanket beneath her. She was looking into David’s eyes and he could see the lust clouding her vision. Propping himself up on his elbows, he gently stroked her face. (Y/N) leaned into his touch, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” David mumbled.

(Y/N) giggled. “Thank you.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him close so he was grinding into her.

“I’m so close,” she breathed, her voice just barely a whisper.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by a moan as she felt David hit that spot deep inside of her that drove her wild. Her walls clenched around him as she felt her climax coming on. She arched her back as she screamed out in pleasure and her eyes rolled back into her head.

He wanted the moment to last, but seeing (Y/N) writhe in pleasure under him and feeling her convulsing around him was enough to push David over the edge, too. He buried his head in the crook of her neck and groaned as his seed spilled inside of her, coating her still contracting walls.

The heat from the fireplace was almost overwhelming as their sweat coated bodies stuck together. (Y/N)’s nails were still buried in David’s back, thin red lines trailing them.

David almost didn’t want to pull away, but eventually he untangled himself from (Y/N) and laid on the blanket next to her. She rolled onto her side and cuddled into his chest, her face glowing from the fire light as she gazed up at him.

“That was long overdue,” she said.

David chuckled. “I suppose it was. Well worth the wait, though.”

(Y/N) smiled. “ I would’ve waited a lifetime to have that moment with you.”

“That was so cheesy. I don’t know if I can stay here with you now.”

(Y/N) playfully hit David’s chest.

As she settled against him again, (Y/N) noticed some scarring on his chest. She traced the white lines with her fingers until David put one hand over hers. He laced his fingers through hers and brought her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on her palm.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” (Y/N) said.

“I am too,” David muttered. He didn’t want to talk about it with (Y/N). He was in such a happy state at that moment, he didn’t want to ruin it by talking about the one thing that constantly kept him up at night.

“I know this isn’t exactly an exciting assignment for you, but I do think less exciting may be what you needed.”

David smiled down at (Y/N), tucking a piece if hair behind her ear. “I am more than happy to have been given this assignment. If I hadn’t, I never would’ve met you, and who knows where I would’ve been then.”

“Protecting some boring Politian I’d say.”

The two laughed.

A comfortable silence fell over them. David ran his fingertips up and down (Y/N)’s arm as she listened to his heartbeat. The events of the day plus the warmth coming from the fireplace had her feeling sleepy. Her eyes grew heavy and, although she fought it at first, she eventually let them close and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

When David noticed that (Y/N) was asleep, he decided to stay put on the floor as to not wake her. As the fire continued to crackle on, the only noise in the house, David found himself realizing something. Something he thought he hadn’t felt in a long time.

I think I’m in love with this girl.

Tags: @godohammers @letmelivetaylor @rogerfckingtaylor @rexorangecouny @polarcrystall @dogmom2014 @sj-thefan @quietly-wishing-i-was-a-lesbian @walking-stressed-mess @laketaj24 @maccasbeard @badasseddy @heyheyjohnnyy @ruinstark @stephaniemalvie @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @music-boys-love @1v-kayla @vxidnik @stateofloveandvedder @florencxs @bxxbxy @husherstan @london-girl-19 @nymeria-targaryen @montypythonsholysnail @rxvxr @lunakkey @justmeandmyfuckeduplife @fuzzycloudsz @tsnelf7 @remmyswritings @fandom--0verdose @graniairish

If you want to be tagged in future parts let me know!

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bi-bard · 2 years

Text

I Stumbled In At the Wrong Time (Pt. 5) - David Budd Imagine (Bodyguard)

Title: I Stumbled In At the Wrong Time (Part 5)

Other Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Pairing: David Budd X Reader

Word Count: 593 words

Warning(s): mentions of death and violence

Summary: After being thrown into something that resembled their personal hells, (Y/n) and David went their separate ways. However, some people are simply drawn together.

Author's Note: This is mostly an epilogue. I hope you enjoy the ending of this series.

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

It was months after... everything.

It had gotten easier but I would be lying if I said that I was okay.

Some nights, I'd wake up with terrifying nightmares of what happened to Julia and what almost happened to David. My brain never let me forget for long.

I thought about David every day. I always wanted to believe that he was doing well. But I didn't know. I had been avoiding him. And I knew that.

Six months after Julia's death, I received a phone call from someone that used to work with her.

Due to an important anniversary of the event and some unnerving messages, they requested that I accept a bodyguard for at least a few weeks. Just as a precaution.

I sighed but agreed.

I curled up on my couch with my dinner when there was a knock on my door.

I walked over and bit my lip before pulling the door open.

"Hello, my name is David Budd," my eyes went wide as they met David's. He smiled at me and let out a slightly shaky sigh. "(Y/n) Montague, correct?"

"Yeah," I nodded, moving so he could walk inside. "Thank you for volunteering for this. Apparently, they're very worried about my safety."

"I understand why... I always am," he replied.

I bit my lip again and looked down with tears in my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he promised. "Nothing at all."

"I abandoned you-"

"You did what was best," David said.

He stepped forward as I looked back up at him.

"I've missed you," I mumbled.

"I've missed you too."

There was a moment of silence between us.

The TV played quietly. The dialogue between the characters became mindless babbling in my mind. I was just watching David's eyes. They were tracing every part of my face like he was trying to memorize me all over again.

"(Y/n)-"

Him saying my name seemed to flip a switch.

I grabbed the edges of his suit jacket and tugged him down toward me. I pressed my lips against his roughly.

He froze in shock for a moment. Slowly, his hands reached around to my back and pushed me closer to his chest. His lips moved with mine slowly. What had started as a rough hit became a soft kiss.

It was what I had craved for months.

All I had wanted was him back. To have him in my arms. To have him there to love me.

I slowly pulled away.

My eyes stayed shut for a minute as his forehead leaned against mine.

I let out a slow, uneven breath as the tears in my eyes finally fell.

My eyes slowly opened. David's eyes were already watching me closely.

"I... I love you, David," I whispered like my voice could shatter the atmosphere around us.

"I love you too," he said. His thumbs were drawing circles into my back.

I curled into him, my face in his neck and my arms curled up to my chest. His cheek rested against my head.

We stood there for ages.

We were silent, just enjoying each other's company. What we had both craved for so long.

His hands rubbed my back. My finger traced circles on his white button-up shirt. I pressed a gentle kiss to his neck as I felt every weight of the world rolling off of my shoulders.

I stumbled into David's life at the wrong time, but the universe made sure that I had stumbled back into it at the perfect time.

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

Masterlist

What I Write For

Request Guidelines

Musical Prompts

Small Moments With…

When Worlds Collide (Doctor Who Crossover Series) Masterlist

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

#david budd imagine #david budd fanfiction #david budd x reader #imagine #fanfiction #x reader #bodyguard fanfiction #bodyguard imagine #bodyguard x reader #richard madden imagine #richard madden fanfiction #richard madden x reader

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imaslutforcuddles · 2 years

Text

Richard Madden Masterlist

(On-going) (Very new)

A/N: This is going to be a masterlist based on a playlist that is one of my favorites :) This may take a while to complete but i will try to finish it as fast as i can! ( For right know I'm only working on David and Ikaris but later on i will write about prince kit, Robb Stark, and Richard madden himself. )

DAVID BUDD :

Imagines

Enemy: After a powerful event you caused, the police thought that you, a random girl (like Wanda from marvel and WandaVison) were a threat and when you tried to flee the country David Budd was sent to capture you, he succeeds in capturing you in his hands because you let him, your interest grew from the second you saw his face on the news. You lure him in and he falls for you. The both of you get close.

Playground:

Warriors:

G-ns for hire:

Get The Party:

IKARIS :

Imagines

Phoenix:

RISE:

As we fall:

Legends Never Die:

Ignite (Alan walker) :

Ignite (Ft Zedd) :

POP STARS:

VILLAIN:

THE BADEST:

Series

Be good to me: The emergence is all that is on Ikaris’ mind and y/n isn’t on his side. He leaves without a goodbye after a big fight you two shared, but comes back after Sersi and Sprite are attacked by deviants, only to come back to you about to attempt and a note in-hand. Comfort isn’t one of his strengths but he wants to talk you out of hurting yourself. He does something unexpected when you fight against him to save the human race, unknowing. Things happen way to quickly for your idiotic husband(I love Ikaris don’t get me wrong, but he’s dumb).

#richard madden #imagine #david budd #david budd x reader #ikaris #ikaris x reader #richard madden x reader #robb stark #robb stark x reader #prince kit #prince kit x reader

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bloody-vino · 1 year

Text

Richard Madden x Indian!Fem!Reader

GIF by lulu-tan79

Richard Madden, a successful Scottish businessman, attended his friend's Indian wedding in Singapore. Little did he know that he was about to meet the love of his life. He saw Y/N, a beautiful Indian woman in a green lehenga, and he was smitten. Richard and Y/N started talking and found they had an instant connection. They talked about their interests, their cultures, and their families.

Y/N was raised in Singapore, but her family was originally from India. She was intrigued by Richard's Scottish culture, and he was fascinated by her Indian background. They exchanged numbers and started dating. Richard took Y/N to his homeland, Scotland, and showed her the beauty of his culture. Y/N, in turn, took Richard to India and introduced him to her family's customs and traditions.

However, Y/N's family didn't approve of their relationship. Y/N's father was worried that if their relationship failed, he would lose his job since Richard was his boss. He scolded Y/N and told her to end the relationship. Sara, Y/N's father's friend, constantly talked negatively about Richard and their romance, further adding fuel to the fire.

Despite the family drama, Richard and Y/N's relationship continued to flourish. They shared many comical moments as Y/N struggled to understand Richard's strong Scottish accent. Richard would often tease her, and they would end up laughing for hours.

One day, Y/N's father got angry and created a scene, insulting Richard and asking him to stay away from his daughter. Richard lost his temper and got into a heated argument with Y/N's father. Y/N, caught in the middle, tried to intervene, but her father raised his hand to hit her. Richard, seeing this, went berserk and got into a physical fight with Y/N's father. The scene attracted many onlookers, but Richard didn't care. He would never let anyone harm Y/N, no matter what.

After the fight, Y/N's father realized his mistake and apologized. He saw how much Richard loved his daughter and how much she loved him. Richard and Y/N's relationship was accepted by the family, and they got married in a beautiful ceremony that blended both Scottish and Indian cultures.

As they exchanged their vows, Y/N struggled to hold back her tears, overwhelmed with happiness. She knew that Richard was the one for her, and she was grateful for their comical moments, their love, and the fact that they had overcome so many obstacles to be together.

Richard took Y/N to Scotland, where she experienced his traditional Scottish food, haggis, and tried her best to understand his accent. She found his accent very attractive but often misunderstood what he said, leading to comical moments.

On the other hand, when Richard went to India, he struggled with the spicy food and the heat. He often wore traditional Indian attire, which Y/N found amusing but endearing. She loved seeing him embrace her culture.

Y/N's family eventually warmed up to Richard after seeing how much he loved and cared for her. They also appreciated his efforts to understand their customs and traditions. Clara, Y/N's father's friend, even apologized for her negative behavior towards Richard and Y/N's relationship.

During their wedding ceremony, Richard surprised Y/N by wearing a traditional Indian sherwani. Y/N was speechless, and tears flowed down her cheeks as she realized how much Richard had embraced her culture. The ceremony was a beautiful blend of Scottish and Indian traditions, and they exchanged vows promising to love and cherish each other, in sickness and in health, till death do them part".

As the night went on, the couple danced to a mixture of Indian and Scottish music. Richard tried his best to keep up with the traditional Indian dance moves, but Y/N found it endearing how he would often mess up and make her laugh.

Later that night, as they retreated to their honeymoon suite, Y/N felt a rush of emotions. She was happy to have found the love of her life in Richard, and grateful for the many comical moments they had shared throughout their relationship. As she looked into his eyes, she knew that she had made the right decision in choosing him as her partner.

Richard took her in his arms, and they kissed passionately. The heat between them was undeniable, and they explored each other's bodies with a hunger that only true love could bring.

As they lay in bed, spent and satisfied, Y/N whispered to Richard, "I love you". He smiled at her and said, "I love you too, my beautiful Indian bride".

From that day on, Richard and Y/N lived happily ever after, embracing each other's cultures and creating a beautiful blend of Scottish and Indian traditions. They were grateful for the obstacles they had overcome and the love they had found in each other.

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