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visd3stele · 2 years

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synopsis: cursed in a magic circus, king Hal loses his crown. He is willing to believe any curse can be a blessing when it brings him to you.

tw: magical au! talks of poisoning, talks of creepy old men, attempt sa

a/n: don't forget to let me know what you think: asks, reblogs, messages, comments, whatever feedback is welcomed, cherrished and encouraged <3

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME THEY KNOW WHY KING HAL'S HORSE IS NAMED TINY HORSE, I'm begging

A galloping circus

When the moon begin her slow ascend on the still lit sky, one can feel a thimble in the air. A shift in the waves of air. Colder, harsher, agitating the sea and the ocean in a call to help their queen. And as the tides spiral 'til the stars to tickle them awake, the Masters of the night spread their limbs and smile a toothy grin.

One such Master is the First Star. Born from Lihtnighte and the Moon, coddled by the moms and gaped at and admired by the whole suite, the First Star learned to love its beauty. Worshipped by the humans for the light it offered, as bright as a second sun in the midst of shadows full of lurking beasts, the First Star learned to play with them.

It visited often on the Land. Amongst humans, unlike any other Master. Bored to no end, the First Star decided to stir up some fun...

"But what's fun for an immortal isn't fun for us, mere humans." You whispered under your breath, cementing your annoyance with a swift roll of your eyes. The horse you were tessellating neighed his agreement. He moved his head stubbornly against your comb when you approached his hair, meaning to braid it before the show.

The circus master gave you a stern look and repeated the last sentence to anchor himself in his speech again. The entire tent was witness to chaos and havoc below its curtains. Just like every time you visit the duke's domains.

You paid no mind to the story. You knew it by heart already. All people do, part of the circus or not. The First Star created it to amuse itself. At the beginning all was good. People presented their talents, made jokes, put plays in place, danced and singed as they did when celebrating the other Masters of the night.

But one human dared to question it. The First Star was too laid back, keeping people from their work days and nights in never ending rows; and thus harming their society. Taking great offense at the mortal, the First Star cursed her and the circus. Frozen in time, forced to perform for eternity in its name so that anyone else can move forward like the daring woman wanted.

Which is why the humans of the Land religiously respect the Bright Circus. Wherever it goes, every night it performs, the tent captures the unique light of the First Star, shining like a diamond on the ground.

You were a bit odd in this picture, though. You joined the circus willingly a hundred and seven years after it was made. Running from a marriage you wished no part of, fooled by enchanted promises and silvery lies.

The First Star appeared to you one night, startling Nightsun, your favored horse. A wild stallion none of your father's stable boys could tame. He bowed to you, though. The little lady y/l/n who would rather feed the horses and clam the hay than sit through manner lections and dress fittings.

It led you to the Bright Circus. "I've been watching you, miss y/l/n. I think you would be a marvelous addition to my Circus."

Indeed, you were. Your number was easily the most impressive one under the cursed tent. And despite the scary tales of the First Star's wrath - very clearly showed by the heavy pregnant woman that wiped the seats after the public left (the woman who dared go against the Master of the night that fateful day, you later learned) - you knew no one would go against its will. If the Star wanted you, the Star shall have you.

So, you traded a cursed destiny for another. Two hundred years you did the same thing, every night. Performing mostly for the depraved rich. You started your number alone in the middle of the sand circle that separated the Master of the night's puppets from the free public. Then, like a lightning against the night sky, Nightsun would come running in. Stardust caught in his caramel hair, moonbeams glistening off his soft light-brown skin. The effect that earned him his name, a sun in the night, shining bright enough to catch the First Star's eyes.

From here, you would improvise. Years of sneaking in the stables and hiding in the woods for moments of freedom taught you many things. To chase boredom away, you'd climb the horse and dance on his back. Or play around with Nightsun, on and off his saddle free form. Legs thrown in the air while your upper body supported you safely on Nightsun, a slow waltz alone on his back, twirling and jumping around and on the strong mustang... it all pleased the immortal star.

One day, though, another odd one stepped on your stage. A boy around your age... or rather the age you were before the curse froze you in time alongside the people of the Bright Circus. He was tall and lean, his hair cut carelessly, shorter on edges, cupping his face with wild curls. He walked with his head held high, even though his shoulders seemed to drop down on each step.

Hal. No last name, no middle name, no backstory. A boy brought in by the First Star one afternoon as mysteriously as it took you. All the boy owned was a beautiful horse that kept close to her master. A high mare of the deepest browns you've ever seen; one white strike split her face in two, completing the etheral image the horse made. Her, and the clothes on him.

You have tried guessing his life story from them, the dusty clothes he wore every night, washed in the river each morning. No luck. The fabric was simple, but lasting. A loose green shirt paired with a coat so long and light in weight you couldn't find it a practical purpose and tight black pants. Nothing to indicate the wealth. He could have been a smaller nobleman, a richer bourgeois or even a peasant dressed from well sewn patches of his master's old clothes. It was practiced by your father's servants.

Or perhaps even a duke's son who ran astray and found himself in an impossible situation. Your frustration with Hal only grew by the day, with his silent demeanor, reserved personality and loneliness. But you couldn't deny the excitement that rose in yourself with his arrival. No more were you alone under the scrunting gaze of a cruel public. No more were you alone, standing out against the family the first in the Circus created.

"Nervous?" He asked from the box next to yours. The First Star's magic fit inside the Bright Circus everything its inhibitors needed to please the viewers. Everything you did was to please them. And regardless of the story of the Circus' origins, they still seemed to have forgotten the pain and sufferance of people stuck in time for eternity on the whim of an angry immortal.

"He speaks," you teased friendly. You had gotten used to Hal and his antics: keeping mostly to himself when the group gathered around the fire after the show, eating alone on river's benches or with his horse in the stables. Venturing around the tent as often as he could.

A wanderer such as yourself.

One time, within a few days since he came to the Circus, you followed in his steps. It was the day you finally connected, a bond so sudden, so unusual that it could only strengthen shortly into an unbreakable one.

"What secrets do you hide, Hal? Could you be a changeling, spying for the Fae Queen? Or, even better! Perhaps a Forest Spirit."

The young man eyed you then. He let his gaze roam you, truly taking you in for the first time. Hal's frown unknitted his wrinkled brows and light touched his shadowed face unlike never before since you met him. Even a small tug of his lips fluttered at the corner of his mouth.

"Shouldn't you be more afraid if I was?"

"Oh, absolutely not! I hope you are, for I cannot make sense of you and that would be such a wonderful explanation."

He rose one brow, turning his whole self to look at you. You noticed an upside down Y shaped scar on his cheek. And you added it to the list of things you knew about your partner. A name, a secretive personality, expensive clothes, but unlike any noble's and an unknown wound on the side of his cheekbone. Such a great, useful list!

"Most people would be afraid of these beings. Even the ones who don't believe in their existence."

"But I'm sure they exist. If our Masters of the night are real, so can our folk tales. I would like to meet one. Or all. There can't be a whole world invisible to us full of only awful creatures."

A small smile graced Hal's lips, so genuine it took you by surprise and bewitched your mind and soul for a second or more. "Perhaps not." And you got the feeling he meant more that the stories that scare kids to sleep and serfs into labor.

"What's her name?" You asked when the silence became too much.

Hal smirked. "Tiny Horse."

You burst out laughing, all the pent up stress and curiosity flowing free in chimes of absurd happiness. The young man looked at your closed eyes, mouth wide open as your chest heaved with each laugh, head thrown back as you knotted your fingers in your horse's hair to keep from falling. And warmly smiled.

"Only when I have something to say. But you knw that already."

"That I do," you leaned from Nightsun to peak in Tiny Horse's box where Hal begrudgingly adorned the mare's mane with feathers and shiny stones, polished to look like authentic jewels.

"Don't worry about me, Hal. I'll survive. The horses, though..."

Hal scoffed. "I hate them. Whom do they think they are to demand how we or our horses look when we perform?!"

"A very influent duke and his court," you sighed as another scoff echoed from the boy.

Tiny Horse and Nightsun beat their hooves on the ground restlessly. A pained look passed both of your faces. All the ornaments itched the poor animals' quite badly. You and Hal had to stop your number for weeks after a visit at this duke's estate. You'd let the horses run free, bathing them, tessellating and sleeping in their boxes to make sure they're not sick.

"Why are they called nobles?" Hal mumbled. "There's nothing noble about them."

As always, there was that mysterious fog clouding his speech. A vengeful longing barely hidden. As if his past was haunting him still and Hal, bitter about it, felt trapped in his powerless state in the Bright Circus.

"The title may have bore some meaning long ago."

"It had no other meaning than stuck up minx lords believing they're better than anyone else."

"Was your landlord a bad man, then?" You asked, hoping to gain some information of his other life, before he danced with you on top of marvelous horses in a magical tent.

"Five minutes!" The pregnant lady, the Maker of the Bright Circus in her defiance of the immortal Star, announced. A shiver ran down your spine each time you saw her. Carrying an eight months babe in her womb for hundreds of years... you couldn't begin to imagine or understand such a nightmare!

When you turned, Hal and Tiny Horse already left.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

After you readied Nightsun, you tipped on your toes to watch the seats fill with well dressed ladies, trailing their gowns behind their tight waists and lords in the softest buffalo leather coats. You didn't miss the days a maid would wrap the corset around your bruised torso until you looked like the fragile porcelain doll you had to be. But the change of the world always made you sigh in wonder.

You would usually sneak under the seats, where the ground was low and created a small hole, enough to easily fit two people. And watched. No matter the public, rich, poor or serfs even, you enjoyed observing them. Comparing how everything was supposed to be in your time and how things evolved.

Sometimes, more often than not, Hal joined you. You would contemplate and comment together on the good and the bad of your realm and how swift the shift was, that the rest of the people who had the privillage of not being frozen in time didn't even notice it.

"I knew I'd find you here." He sighed, slugging his from to fit next to you.

"He says as if I'm the one who always disappears."

"Sorry. I didn't want to see them more than I have to."

Again with the thorny spite against nobles. Instead of prying on his past some more as your mind begged of you, you repositioned yourself to face him.

"Then how come you're here, now?"

"I thought better. Couldn't have possibly left you alone in such moments."

Your heart flipped at his words. And you blinked to spread the piercing warning of tears. You nodded, hoping Hal could tell how grateful you were, dropping your head on his shoulder softly. You raised a hand to cover his eyes.

"See anything?" When Hal shook his head you hummed in content. "Good. Now you can stay with me and not see the stuck ups."

Hal's body shook with laughter. Even though the sounds he made were muffled and barely audible, you embraced the vigorous movement with a happy smile.

The duke on whose lands you were about to perform has taken a special notice in you. He begin with sending his guards to escort you to the noble estate. Everyone knows the Circus disappears at the first stream of daylight, along with its cursed ones. No matter where they were. There was no escape.

You tried to push them aside, conjuring excuses such as needing to bath, wash the horse, feed him and yourself and everything you could have think of. When the duke himself started to press you to join him, he wouldn't take a refusal on your part.

"I'm so very sorry, m'lord, but I need a visit to the river nearby. All that effort and the fire-like light had me a gross mess of sweat and smell."

"My personal bathing chambers are a well deserved payment for your the likes of you."

"Thank you very much, you're too kind. Unfortunately my horse needs to be tend to."

"Don't you have servants to do the job? I am sure the First Star provides you all with every needed thing."

"No, m'lord. I have to take care of my horse myself."

"Then let me lend you some of my stables boys."

"I prefer it if no one touches Nightsun but me. It's better this way. A show horse caring looks different than a normal one."

It wasn't until Hal chimed in that the duke left you be. A demanding dominance adorning him as if he was meant to be listened to and he knew it. And the duke felt it too. But he would always start anew each time the Circus stopped on his lands.

Hal has proven to be a rock for your sanity in the decades you spent together. And you suspected - or at the very least hoped so - that you gave him some sort of comfort as well.

"I- I didn't have a landlord." He whispered after some time. Your hand still over his eyes. Better this way, perhaps. If you could see the green entrance to Hal's soul, he might close to you again.

You remined silent. An encouraging brush of your nose against his shoulder the only sign you were paying attention.

"I was raised at Court. The royal Court. Surrounded by so called nobles. Disgusting men like this duke. I learned to see their true faces."

You muffled a yelp of surprise at his words. Never in your wildest assumption have you thought Hal might come from the King's palace.

His body tensed against your feather light touch. "What happened?" It was the question that conveyed all your curiosities. Though you weren't content with it still.

Hal let out a mocking gruff of laughter. "What happened? They poisoned me. My... the King favored me and I didn't favor them. So they poisoned me."

"The First Star saved you." The words traveled through you on their own accord. An extension of the mind who focused on what it can understand from the pieced story Hal gave you.

He nodded, shifting to face you, letting his forehead drop on your shoulder. Your palm still on his face, but Hal knew your body as he did his own. As you did your own and his as well. When you danced, you never rehearsed your moves from the start. You improvised. Always something new. Never the same choreography. You learned your bodies well. Could feel each other edges and presence even in the dark, even with your eyes closed. And it became an unconscious part of your lives and instincts.

"It came to me that night. I could barely see it, vision blurry with tears and the fog of looming end. I couldn't breath and my own blood tasted bitter in my mouth. That I managed a nod at the First Star proposal is a miracle."

"Do you regret it?"

"Do you?" Hal shot back, raising his had and softly removing your hand from his eyes as he straighten. Back to his usual self, as if he didn't just open up to you more than ever.

"No." You whispered, a sense of betrayal sneaking from the back of your mind.

You hated the First Star and the Bright Circus and what it does to its poor people. But you wouldn't change your answer all those years ago. Because you're not free right now and you will never be, but at least now you can ride, you can dance, you are husbandless and... and you met Hal. You cannot regret whatever choice led you to him. Or rather, led him to you.

"Yeah," Hal agreed, watching the different emotions fill your e/c eyes like a tangled web. "I don't regret living or having all the time in the world to spend with Tiny Horse. I don't regret my life means riding her, dancing... and you." A blush colored his cheeks as Hal pierced your soul with his own. Trembling lashes the only indicative of his nervousness. Gone as soon as you noticed it. Replaced by the suppressed anger so familiar to his gaze.

"But I do regret what has been take from me. What I didn't know how to appreciate as my brother did and didn't want hard enough as my brother did. I could have done so much for so many. Be the man my father wanted because the Land needed it..."

"Shh." You hugged Hal tight as his words turned into whispers and his body convulsed with unshed tears and rage. "Shhh. It's alright." You didn't understand much of his rambling. But you understood the feeling of shuttering guilt for enjoying a new life that hurts so many, the missing of a far away past that hurt and hurts still. And the need to change, to help.

"It's alright. We're both here now. Nothing to do about it. I've got you."

"I've got you." He repeated slower and nodded his head and blink his lids to shake off the tears welled in those mesmerizing green pools.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Soon all the seats were taken. A sea of people fit under the magic veil of the Bright Circus. You and Hal sneaked out of your hidden spot. It was time to take you places and get ready.

The show went on as usual. The kids went first, with their makeshift dolls from corn or wood. With the magic of the First Star they could now bring the objects to life. Orchestrate a play they wrote themselves. Never one the same as the kids, even those frozen in times for centuries, have an infinite supply of imagination.

Then Hlaf, former baker in a life long since gone, would enter the stage. He'd contort his body in such manner he could fit through a ring off a lady's finger. Following suit, Feora and Engel would amaze the public with their wire walking. Such a thin thread of cotton, suspended on twenty meters in the air, the two sisters seemed to fly.

Later came Seax with their blades and Deor with her wild animals, somehow tame to her words. After, Blīþe followed with his jokes. The short man could talk for hours and the people would laugh their breath away. But as all things must come to an end, new ones must begin.

You weren't paying attention to the movement around you. Eyes fixed on the duke, in the middle of the first row. A start coursed through your body as you felt someone's touch at your side. Hal was squeezing your hand tight, hid thumb brushing over the back of your palm in soothing circles.

"I've got you," he whispered. "And you've got this."

A nervous smile trembled on your lips, though a genuine flicker twitched the corners of your mouth. "We've got this."

"Y/n, Hal, you're turn." The First Woman of the Bright Circus spoke behind you. The Show Runner was making your introduction, the same as always: Admired grandees and dear workers, young and less so, folk of the Land, you know our story, but you don't know theirs. Everyone is aware of our blessing, but theirs is a mystery the First Star landed upon us for reason only it can be privy to. But fret not, my darlings, for their talent is undeniable. Majestic. Welcome our marvelous pair of equestrian dancers!

You and Hal rolled your eyes at the same time. Your heart skipping beats, shoulders tensed, forcefully rolled back. His jaws set, muscles pulsing on the beat of his heavy heart.

Nightsun and Tiny Horse entered the sand circle, your stage. In a mist of maroon-yellow dust lifted in the air by their grumpy hooves. The two horses settled their pace, slowing down as they moved in the circle facing each other, distance closing in, in, in...

Hal took off. Fierce. Fast. Like a knight charging into battle. The man hadn't stop a second until his feet gently hit the back of the strong mare. Hal didn't climb up, he jumped. No hands rested on the side of the horse to help him. Just a flex of his knees, a wide jump and he twirled in the air to land gracefully on top of Tiny Horse.

The people, who have been holding their breath, afraid to even blink to not lose a beat of his steps, released the now warm air at once. Then the tent filled with the deep, bearish noise of clapping, sighs of admiration, whistles and appreciative murmurs.

Your turn. Hal is waiting for you. You close your eyes to take the duke's image out of your mind, life your chin and fix your gaze on him. On Hal. The unexpected friend in which you found comfort, affection. Love, you dared name it now, to give you strength. Though you were pushing the feeling down for over a decade. As sweet and kind he is to you, he is still Hal. The cold, privet man who opens up about himself in riddles and so rare he doesn't make sense.

Except... he shouldn't make sense. And in your mind he doesn't. But your heart learned the language of his summer green eyes, the rhythm of his laugh and the beat of his soul.

"Go," she whispered impatiently. And this time her pregnant form didn't sent shivers down your body. You were so light, your body but a feather through the air as you neared Nightsun and Hal. Hal who smiled warmly at you from the just as lovely mare.

Turning to your left side as you reached the perfect spot for what you had in mind - not too close to your stallion, but close enough to work - you leaned all your weight on your left leg. The right one in the air, pulling your body after it. You felt every muscle, every tendon stretch. Then you landed on Nightsun's back with your right foot first, turning to the rows of stunned people.

It happened quick. They needed a moment to understand what they saw. And when they did, another round of heavy tinkle break through your haze.

"Showoff." Hal mumbled jokingly, so low you almost didn't hear.

"Not at all. You simply think so because you are, in fact, lazy today."

"Not lazy. Just... he doesn't deserve my best."

"Mine neither. But the little kids and the tired serfs do, hmm?"

Hal snapped his head towards you, greeted being by your questioning, almost disappointed eyes and raised eyebrows. He sighed. "You're right."

He offered you his hand, pulling you towards him as you swirled in the air until your feet brushed his - both bare - on Tiny Horse. Hal smiled and wiped the hair clean off your face before you tackled him, palms on his shoulders and switch back to Nightsun, right as he arrived to your subtle calling.

You couldn't last more under Hal's mellow gaze. The suave curve of lips welcoming you, reassuring you. You wanted more. You wanted the secrets behind his walls to include a love just as burning for you as yours was for him.

You took one deep breath and carried on. A web of limbs and bodies was made out of you and Hal, clutching tight to each other as you jumped and flew together. As you swayed to music you hummed in harmony, shaken closer and closer by horses beneath you.

Hal would take your wrists in his hands and let you walk the air on Tiny Horse's side as he supported your weight. You shifted your upper body until your shoulder were glued to his and rolled over, knocking some sand where you landed.

Hal moved one of his feet on Nightsun and circled you, proud and glowing like a Master of the Night in one of their chariots. When you could focus, you jumped and got behind him, legs wrapped around his torso as you climbed to sit on his shoulders.

"Get up. On your feet." He suggested for the ending. And you did. You placed your feet on his shoulders and waved to the public as Hal led the horses away. The night was done.

Or so you believed. Hal stopped the small convoy you created at the stables, leaving to get you both and the horses some food as the Show Runner wrapped up with the people.

Sighing in content, you laid your forehead in between Nightsun's and Tiny Horse's. Caressing each of their sides. "All done, my dearests. All done. You did so good. Amazing! I- we are both proud of you. Good job."

The horses neighed, something troubling them. You assumed it was the ornaments and moved to removed the sparkling feathers and golden jewels. But as you took the needed steps back, a thick hand wrapped around your stomach and pulled you behind.

Nightsun and Tiny Horse shifted the weight on their back legs, charging at your attacker. But the duke, as you recognized the piercing smell of a poor attempt to hide the sweat with aromatic plants' essence, moved his arm up until it pressed against your neck and pushed something shiny out front, pointing to the horses.

A ruffle, you realized, bile coming up your throat.

"Don't you dare hurt them." You warned. Though your voice was weak, strangled by the too big arm of the old man.

"Oh, but I don't want, beautiful y/n," he said, stuffing his nose in your hair and sniffing with a pleased sigh. A shudder passed through each and every of your bones as the hair on your arms picked up against the goosebumped skin.

Disgust. Towards him and also towards your powerless fear.

"All you have to do is stay still and let me have a taste for the animals to live."

"The only animal I see here is you." You spat. You knew there was no way you could put up a fight. Get away. He will have what he wants. But the least you could do was make sure it's as unpleasant as it can be. Reminding him of how small of a man he is. How disgusting, useless, pathetic...

A shot. Tiny Horse and Nightsun broke their deffence and whined, the sound scratching your ears. You tried to run to them, but the arm still painfully pressed against your neck chocked you.

"If the bulled touched even a bit of their hair..." you warned, but the duke cut you off.

"They're fine, dumb animals. Getting scared out of a little shot. The bullet went between them, probably stuck in one of those trees. But make no mistakes, I can and I will shoot them if you don't behave for me. Clear?"

Tears picked at your eyes as you nodded. Staying still when the duke relaxed the arm holding you hostage. Folding under his touch as he urged you to lay down, legs slightly apart.

If your parents could see you right now, a stray thought sneaked in. Making such a sacrifice for two some beast, you could hear your mother say. Don't be an idiot, y/n, your father would agree in his usual stoic manner.

Were you? Being an idiot? Should you fight the duke at the expense of your and Hal's horses and actually get away? Could you?

It was too late to wonder such things. The duke let his pants fall to his knees, hovering over you as he begin to undress your lower parts too.

You bit your lip, praying to your body to relax as your mother taught you for your wedding night. Night that never came. She said it would hurt less if you relax. But what about the pang in your heart and the loudness in your head. Thought banging against your skull, a bloody fist pulling at your heart, sunking it down, down, down...

You braced yourself. Lips sealed, teeth closed tight on the inside of your cheeks, head turned to the side in an attempt to see your wild mustang, untamed and free in spirit even in these or your father's stables and Hal's brave mare, strong and powerful. Eyes so fixed in the darkness your vision begin to blur.

And you waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing came.

Pushing yourself up on your elbow, you saw the duke's body lying in a wrong position at your feet. Above it, Hal stood cowered by the weight of his rage. His curls messier than ever, curved spine raising dangerously low as his breath hitched, coming too fast. His deep, smart eyes now crazed with wrath, bulged in two perfectly round shapes. In his hand, gripped by long, trembling fingers, a knife shone under the moonlight. Scarlet red blood glistening off of it.

"Hal?"

Your voice seemed to wake him from his fury. He turned your way, features softening on an instant, worry blooming in the spring of his eyes. He was careful to avoid your bare parts, gaze locked only on your face. Looking for signs of shock settling in.

"Yes, it's me." He said carefully.

You nodded. Relief flooded your senses so sudden and with such force, you begin trembling, letting the tears you fought so far fall with loud sobs and ragged breaths.

The brain couldn't keep up with the heart. You were fine. Nothing happened. But the mind struggled to grasp it. Too beautiful to be true. Hot blood pushed against cold limbs. Dried tongue tried to water chipped lips, to sooth the sting in the inside of your cheeks.

"You're fine. He's gone. Dead. You're safe." Hal spoke slow. Pointed. Making sure each of his words hit your ears and understanding.

You nodded. "I know. Thank you." Your voice was yours, but not your own. Changed with the weight of the scare. Rough and gruff.

Hal nodded as well. "I'll see to the horses, if that's alright."

He wanted to give you space. But your blood boiled now, heating every part of your body. Making your brain restless and your body so large, scattered, yet small, so, so small.

"Stay, please."

He stiffened, but did as you asked. Stepping over the corpse, leaked blood staining both of your still bare feet. Hal sat next to you, welcoming you in his arms as you scooped closer and closer until you sat in his lap.

Arms around his neck, his own supporting your back, rubbing it up and down, but never touching lower than your middle. Head hidden in the crook of his neck, breathing his scent as if it was a calming plant. Hal's head rested atop yours, the soft part of his cheek flat against the crown of your hair. Your heart steadied to follow his heart's rhythm. Your mind cleared of anything to let itself be filled with Hal. Only Hal.

The metallic scent of blood beat at your nostrils. You both ignored it, safe in your embrace. Part of your own world now. This one, no other more.

Seconds passed. Hours, days, months perhaps. An eternity and thousands more could have passed around you and neither would have noticed. Content as you were. Peaceful. Happy.

But all things must come to an end.

You tried to remember how it happened. Every detail of those terrible moments. You never were able to. A blur. A fading questioning under the weight of sharp voices and chilling orders. A shape of a distant color merged together from seven uniforms, seven people.

They took Hal first. Clothes still soaked in nappy red. They ripped him from you, limbs webbed, clinging tight to one another. And as they stepped away, finally holding Hal in their grip, you stumbled over him.

You barely noticed when the guards picked the lifeless body up, or when some servants and ladies in waiting caressed with soft words the newly widow's ears, deaf to any consolation.

A passing wondering flew through your mind - would she still be devastated had she known what the duke meant to do to you? - but you had no time to ponder over it.

"Hal!"

"Don't. Y/n, stay here. Go away. The hoses need you," he hoped to convince you. But it's a magic Circus, with magic proportions. There will be food for Tiny Horse and Nighstun and someone will attend to them. After all, the Cursed Ones are good people, a family. And even the animals are part of it.

"Let him go. He was only protecting me."

In another time, you would have known no one would care. You weren't a good lady anymore. Had your mind had been clearer, you would have remembered it. Hal seemed to better adjust to a titleless condition, regardless of the danger looming over him.

Would he be hanged? Can someone in the Bright Circus die? Lihtnighte wouldn't allow it for sure, right?

All the questions bugged through your head as you tried to pry the guards arms off your partner. Your Hal. Even without the love you nurtured for him, you owed him a try. He killed to save you. He is in this messy business because of you.

But you had too little force, exhausted as you were - and the guards, too much. They easily charged you with treason as well, for daring to stand between an act of punishment for a high criminal. Soon, you and Hal found yourselves on a short path to the ducal palace.

The journey there was made in silence. Hal was being kept at the back of the convoy - that turned to be a funeral walk as well - while they held you in the front. Even so, you felt his eyes on you, burning the back of your neck with care and concern. He didn't like the five men between which you were trapped. You neither. But more you hated the vile guards who tied Hal's hands by their horse's saddles and forced him to walk as they set the riding pace to slow gallop.

Hal and you were calm, though. Calmer than two people soon to be judged and executed should be. Everyone found it frustrating. The whimpers of fear, the wobbling lips and running noses, the teary eyes and chocked voices, it all fed the guards the sense of power they need to feel. The entitlement over one's - over many - life.

And they knew, of course they did. You won't die. You won't even catch sunrise in the dungeons. You both will vanish at the first gleam of sunlight. And if death might fall upon you, you both will wake up, well and alive, under the Circus' tents. So was your blessing and your curse.

So the guards seethed. Locked their teeth and hoped the widow duchesse would want to have your pained screams as payment for her beloved husband's death. If killing you was not an option, showing you a faith worse than must do.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The castle rose dark and tall, a giant's shadow looming over crops and fragile wooden houses in the valley. This particular duke hadn't took care of his servants' needs.

In opposition, the walls of the fortress were thick and standing. Richness as you have yet to see adorned the architecture. Crenels sharp and dangerous barred their teeth to you from above. And a solid wooden gate draped over a deep river, filled with Masters of the night know what beasts.

Inside, a torch lit corridor swallowed the light from your eyes. So used to the night and the soft gleam of moonlight, the beauty of the stars' glister on the blue-black sky, your pupils closed in two small strawberry's kernels.

"I've forgotten how it feel like. Being inside a palace," Hal mumbled at your side. His sudden presence should have startled you, but never again could his voice be anything but calming and comforting.

The guards let you loose, tied up to a rope they carried much in front. Leading you to the duchesse court.

"Such a big noble you used to be?"

Hal didn't speak no more. Set jaws and a shaky breath the only answer you got.

Finally, you entered a golden antechamber. Soon, you'll meet your faith... for now. As the new day must not be far, if you rightly assumed.

"Move." A rough hand pulled you forward, casing you to stumble through the open doors and almost fall on the thick woolen carpet.

You weren't scared, you knew it. But something still stopped your from lifting your head. An unsettling feeling weighing heavy above and around.

You dared a peak to Hal. See if he feels the same. But his eyes roamed the walls in shocked awe. Lining your sight to match his gaze, you looked at the portraits displayed by the yet to appear duchesse. You saw the king who ruled when you were a little girl. His son next to him. Older than you remembered. But then again, you haven't seen the prince as he became King. The First Star made sure of it. The next men were all the same: stoic under the heavy crown, a scepter and a white fur finalizing the royal look. They all shared similar features too. A long and strong line of succession.

The certainty of a unmoving past captured not in stone, but in color and art lulled your brain into a foggy haze. You let it wrap you whole and sush the ringing bells of questioning the unreliable future you had open in front of you.

Until your eyes found eyes you knew so well. Eyes you stared into for ages. That gave you strength, loyalty and love. Eyes that bulked out of their sockets on the face next to you.

"Hal?"

Raised at Court. Favored by the late king. Poisoned by jealous, zealous lords. A brother who wanted it all... It made sense now. Even if you were yet to comprehend. Hal, the boy you danced with, ride with, love. Hal, the silent, smart, stoic boy who hides a sarcastic funny, sensible man. Hal, a King of the Land.

"You...?"

You turned to face him, but he - sheepish - wouldn't meet your gaze.

"You were the King."

A nod. Barely. More likely a bob of his head.

"And now you're not."

Hal pointed to a painting next to his own. So much bigger. So much Imposing. Another man, not as handsome as Hal, lacking the mettlesome, sharp look Hal bear in his eyes, without a benevolent, yet threatening smile like Hal's that gave way to his nature - born to rule, king to his subjects, merciless with his enemies.

"My brother," a small voice like you've never heard from him before spoke through an ocean of howling water. "The one the lords supported when he went after my throne."

His throne. He said it with so much longing, yet too much sufferance.

"Wait," realization seemed to sink in, "your brother, the nobles.. they poisoned you for him? He knew about it?"

Another bob of his head. An even smaller nod. As if strings attached to the back of his head pulled and pushed at the same time. Pain and anger.

"This duke supported them?"

"Likely so."

"Your portrait is the only one polished though."

Hal frowned. He hadn't notice it, but it was true. And it confused him.

But neither you, nor him had the time to elucidate the issue. The doors blew open once more and a short woman, wearing all black from the thin veil covering her face to the flat sole shoes, strode in. She marched to the huge chair, modeled to look like a throne. Before she could sit, however, her eyes slipped on Hal and she jumped as if the seat suddenly burned her.

A yelp echoed in the room, sharp and high. Through the layer resting over the duchesse's face you could see her eyes growing in size, lids hiding in the crests of her wrinkled skin.

"Prince... I mean King Harry, Your Majesty," she bowed so low her headdress brushed the floor's dales.

"Harry?" You mouthed to Hal, trying to laugh off the feeling of betrayal threatening to consume you.

But Hal didn't spare you a glance. An eyebrow raised, straightening his back and raising his chin higher, he waited for the duchesse to get up.

"You call me your king, but you mourn one of my killers."

"Oh, Your Majesty, please! I begged him not to do it..."

"And hanged the usurpator's portrait to shadow mine," Hal continued as if the woman didn't utter a word. Ever since you left with the Bright Circus you stopped paying attention to the more normal wordly things. Such as kings and succession. But you tried to remember now a time when you felt this type of power surging from one of your father's friends or the King himself when you visited the Court. And failed.

The way Hal talked without raising his voice, yet his will spread and overwhelmed everyone in the room... nothing could compare to it. You wanted to be upset, angry with him for hiding all of this from you. Sad he missed and enjoyed this life so obviously much. But you couldn't.

Watching him now, the satisfied curve of his lips, the fire in his eyes, the sweet speech with which he let the words fly... he was always beautiful. A Master of the night in disguise. Now he fit the immortal god part like a glove. And you found yourself falling for him even more.

"And with the money and power you got from it, you torture MY people," this time he let the rage slip in his tone. The duchesse flinched. A bright smile surprised you blooming on your lips.

"Your Majesty, I'm sorry. I didn't want it. This. I had to. I'm sorry. I polished your portrait in the hope you shall return one day. I always believed."

Hal glanced on the clustered window, covered with heavy satin drapes and colorful glass art. He managed to see what you sensed. Dawns of the new day coming soon.

You draw your lip between your teeth. There was no choice to be made, Hal will come back with you, rather he likes it or not. But you watched him in worry still. Bothered by the thought he may not want to return.

"If this is true, Duchesse, then do better than your husband. Govern these lands, these people, better. And don't be afraid to cut the roots of evil, whomever might be so. Your late husband would have dishonored an innocent girl," his voice lowered, eyes dreamy, "if I wouldn't have killed him. It was justice I served, a punishment he deserved. Lose the crape and begin the change. That's an order form your King."

"Yes, Your Majesty. At once, Your Majesty. Oh, this is such a blessed day! All my men are at your disposal, my king. Just giver the order and they'll stand behind you to take back your throne. I have enough friends that have been waiting for your return to form a strong army and..."

"I do no wish an army, Duchesse. As you know, I am bound to the Bright Circus. I cannot - will not - leave." Hal's eyes slid subtly to you, hand reached for a reassuring squeeze. The duchesse missed it, too baffled to pay attention to anything nut her working mind attempting to wrap around the news.

"But surely there must be a way to break the curse. There has to. I will find it, Your Majesty, I swear it to you. I will free you!"

"Only if you break hers too. Y/n's. If I shall be King, she's my only Queen."

'Twas the last thing he said before the familiar warmth enveloped your hugging bodies, taking you to your small new family of centuries, in a another part of the Land.

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smolvenger · 3 months

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❤️Happy Birthday ❤️

🎉🎉🎉I hope you have a wonderful day 🎉🎉🎉

Please can I request a little blurb with Prince Hal and "touch her and you die" 😻😻😻

Thank you!

Why hello there! Thanks, I got a manicure and went to a bookshop and ate Italian food so it was great! And here is the blurb!

Rain Within Doors (Prince Hal x fem! Reader)

Summary: When the king falls ill, your betrothed, Prince Hal, returns.

Word Count: 1923

Warnings: some sexual harassment but the a-hole is saved in time, I try to keep it close to Shakespeare. Angst and fluff. I stole a line from Game of Thrones because it fit (the Shakespeare histories WERE kind of the Game of Thrones of their time minus the dragons and excessive exploitation of women)

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You waited anxiously and eagerly for your dear betrothed. He needed to hurry here. Things had all turned for the worse.

Poor King Henry the Fourth was one minute at a table with all of you The Lord of Westmoreland arrived delivering the news of success in battle against Hotspur’s followers attempting to usurp the king. Everyone gasped. The lords who allied with Henry the Fourth were there- the Lord of Harcourt, Sir John Blunt, and others, all drooped their shoulders in relief. You, the younger two princes Thomas and Humphrey, The Lord of Warwick, and the King all smiled. The king shakily rose to praise Westmoreland

…then suddenly he began wheezing and fainted.

Everyone gasped. Humphrey and Warwick met them on the grounds to give aid to the old king. Little Thomas cried for his father and you put him, your soon-to-be brother-in-law, in a hug, rubbing his back.

“It’s all right, you know these fits happen often,” Warwick assumed, ever the voice of peace.

As the king came to, he was supported up. You were among the party to help settle him into bed. He asked the crown be placed on the pillow next to him with a raspy voice. And for musicians to play in the next room. Everyone complied.

You knew your betrothed had business in London. Even if it was in a bad place, he assured you it was nothing involving anything criminal (or whores) and that he would be back. The second eldest, Thomas, was dealing with the rebels with forces of his own and was on his way back.

“My lord, let me sit with you, so you need not be alone,” you offered, gathering a chair.

You had been sent here to marry the notorious Prince of Wales. Though you were nervous in this new castle, King Henry the Fourth was gentle with you. He welcomed you with a smile and open arms. The man who already considered you a daughter-in-law in his heart and the other princes saw you as a sister. He would let you dine with him and even play a little dice game with the family, smiling at you. Warmth on the face of the aged Bolingbroke- the lord who, long ago, won the favor of the people so much it broke him out of exile and then thrust him into the role of king unexpectedly. Once Henry Bolingbroke, christened Henry the Fourth, wore shining golden armor as he rode on a horse. Paraded through the city as people threw flower petals at him.

Now how…weak he was! A shell of himself! Hardly the proud golden king anymore!

He reached out for your hand and you accepted it.

“Why-dear lady, I thank you. To think a pearl may be thrown to swine… to think my Harry should of all men be your husband…” he wheezed.

“My lord, you must know- your eldest son has not….treated me poorly.”

You didn’t know him well- the beautiful, fiery, mischievous, wild prince Henry- or Harry as called by his friends or family. Or Hal as those thieves and whores so affectionately called him.

This was to be a marriage for alliance and station, not of affection. When you arrived, you expected a frivolous, drinking, philandering Baccus. But Hal…. he was kind to you. He always smiled at you and called you sweet names. He was rumored to spend time studying in libraries more than drinking. One time, he found a romantic poem, copied it on paper, and gave it to you as a lover’s token. It touched you- who knew how he would fare as king but you felt he would make at least a decent husband!

“Just rest my lord, please,” you asked. The king indeed settled.

You walked out to the hallway to face the others. They peeked in and soon saw his eyes were closed, but he was breathing. The musicians in the next room played such calm, nearly dreamlike melodies compared to the anxiety storming inside of your being.

Soon enough, the king settled into a deep sleep. You smiled a little- poor Henry the Fourth was a notorious insomniac, wandering the castle in the late hours from his racing worries. That should give him some relief and help with his sickness.

But to think…here you were about to watch that old man die. Die before you could officially call him family.

A couple of tears fell, and you walked out to the hallway staring out. It was a cold, bitter day. The winter chill stinging the glass window when you touched it.

But there was a sound- hooves.

When you leaned closer to the window, you let out a gasp.

Hal was here in a long, beautiful black and red cape on a beautiful black horse as if he were about to rescue a damsel. And behind him a couple of others. You covered your mouth but felt a smile on your lips.

Picking up your skirts, you hurried down to the others in the outer hall. Warwick was hushing the two boys from talking too loud, to watch over the king in his sleep.

“Humphrey! Thomas! He’s back!” you whispered.

“Who?” replied Thomas.

They turned and then heard Hal’s voice asking for him. You and the others hurried there.

In the torch-lit hallway, your eyes feasted on Hal. The most beautiful man you had ever seen with the most deliciously fitted black velvet doublet, swooping off his cape with a gallantry that made your insides tingle.

He turned and went to you first.

“How now, My most fair lady?”

“Oh, much worried but cheered by your return, my lord,” you replied.

Hal’s eyes softened at you, then he looked at his crying brothers- Humphrey and Thomas.

“What- all of this rain in of door when it should be out of doors? How is the king?” Hal asked.

“ Exceeding ill” explained Humphrey sadly.

“Please be quiet, His grace is asleep,” warned the Lord of Warwick.

Hal requested to see his father, and the lord of Warwick led him to the bed.

Everyone hushed and walked out to the other room, keeping quiet to give the king as much rest as he needed. Everyone worried. It was all so much- you needed some space.

With your heart calming, you went to one hallway, hugging yourself to look at how the moon shone over the winter evening through the windows.

The Lord Harcourt went up to you. An older man with sharp cheekbones and a sharp chin, a pale face, and dark eyes. You only knew him as an ally and advisor to the king. As you stood alone, staring out the window.

“Good evening, Lady Y/N.” he greeted.

“Good evening, my lord,” you replied.

“You do look rather lovely tonight in the moonlight,” he complimented.

Already you felt uneasy. Alone with him, when all the others were fretting over the king. You began to take a step to return.

“You…you flatter me, my lord, thank you.”

Right as you turned, the lord reached an arm from his rich, velvet clothes and grabbed you.

“It seems a shame for such a fine lady to be wasted upon riotous Harry. I should have had you for my wife instead.”

“My lord, then wait until the king awakens and discuss it with him and announce you will-will-will court me openly like a gentleman,” you blubbered out, though you were starting to get scared.

He tried to sweetly, seductively brush your cheek but you had enough and swatted it away.

“Oh! The lady is a bit too cold, methinks.”

“And a lady is treated with respect, sir! My lord, please let me go. I must attend on his majesty.”

“Your drunken oaf of an intended is waiting on him, who is going to stop!”

“But you are a fool! Please, let me leave!”

He backed you up until you were in a corner. Your heart pounded hard.

“Please- my lord, I swear, do not do anything that might insult my honor! I don’t want to-Please!” you cried.

“Then be not so fair and tempt a man to sin! And you have tempted me long enough. The one crown Prince Hal is deserving of is the Cuckhold’s horns.”

“Please, my lord- let me go!” you begged.

To your horror, you felt a thin, clawlike hand reach for your leg under your skirt, then up, trying to lower your bodice to show your breasts. You squirmed, but one arm held you back.

“No, my lady. I want a see what I could be enjoying on our wedding night.”

He placed a hand over your mouth so you couldn’t scream. Tears welled up in you.

With a free hand, though it shook, you slapped him hard.

His hand dropped. He was shocked you were going to fight back. You tried to flee when he grabbed you back, ready to drag you off and force you to strip or do more when-

“Release yourself from the Princess of Wales right now!” threatened your intended.

Hal hurried in and grabbed the lord. He then took out his dagger, pointing it to your attacker’s chest. You jumped off and went behind Hal.

“What- my lord!” the lord was shocked that dishonorable, silly Prince Hal was capable of this. Then he scoffed.

“She is not yet your wife-” he argued.

“She is your princess and soon- your queen!” Hal reminded him.

The Lord of Harcourt pointed to where you stood and backed away behind Hal.

“She’s-she was trying to seduce me! The Lady is nothing but a common strumpet”

Hal punched him in the face. You let out a gasp. The Lord nursed his cheek. But Hal kept his dagger up at him. You heard footsteps and murmurs as the others went into the room. The younger Lancaster brothers staying by you loyally. The lords turned pale and slack-jawed.

“You are not welcome in this court until after our marriage. And then you will have to beg to be let in. And If you ever lay a hand on that sweet lady again, it will be the last time you have hands!” Hal barked at him.

The Lord of Harcourt shook and then relented, bowing his head.

“Now, flee. Before I decide to persuade my father to behead you when he awakes.”

The lord fled into the shadows, a few attendants seeing him out. The others asked after you, but it was Hal who boldly embraced you. It was quite intimate for court protocol, but when had Hal ever done what everyone expected?

“He-He frightened me.” you choked out.

“You need not be frightened, my lady, you’ll be safe. Did he hurt you? Do anything?” Hal questioned.

“He groped my leg, and tried to take my dress off, but no more. You caught him before more could be done. I-I -I promise you, Hal, I never intended to seduce him in any way! Do you believe me?”

Hal clasped your hands in his.

“Why would I not believe my dearest lady?” Hal replied.

Full of emotion, you leaned down and kissed them. Hal’s mouth opened a little and he smiled at you. He cupped your cheek sweetly.

The party returned to wait on the king. You saw Hal was pale, but you kept your hand clasped in his as you walked back.

For as uncertain as this time was, no matter what the next day or hour could bring, you had each other and could endure it side by side.

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vbecker10 · 1 year

Text

I don't even remember what I was looking up lol but I ended up with these and got distracted...

@sarahscribbles @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @gigglingtigger @kikster606 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @michelleleewise @mischief2sarawr @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @xorpsbane @wheredafandomat @xorpsbane @thomase1 @simplyholl

#tom hiddleston #hiddlestoners #loki #tom hiddleston characters #loki laufeyson #twhiddleston #hiddlesarmy #loki odinson #king henry v #hollow crown #thomaswilliamhiddleston #thomas hiddleston #thomas william hiddleston #hiddlesverse #twh #twhiddles #essex serpent #the essex serpent #will ransome

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historygirl93 · 7 months

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"The Lion King" is NOT just "Hamlet"

Everyone knows that the plot of one of the best Disney movie comes from one of the best works of the Bard, but "Hamlet" is not the only source. After watching "The Hollow Crown", many years ago, I find multiple parallels.

Richard II is the murdered king (Mufasa).

Henry IV is both the usurper (Scar) and the king (Mufasa), in bad terms with the Percys (heynas) who helps him get the throne.

And Prince Hal/Henry V...he is Simba. Beautiful scenes with his father. Spending time with the commoners? I can totally picture Hal singing "Hakuna Matata" with Falstaff and the Eastcheap gang. The Sun as a metaphor of his time as king during the "I know you all" speech. The real Henry of Monmouth was also called "The lion of England".

#the lion king #the hollow crown #king henry v #prince hal

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pedroam-bang · 2 years

Photo

The King (2019)

#2019 #1415 #gif #film #movie #The King #Robert Pattinson #The Dauphin #Timothee Chalamet #Prince Hal #Hal #King Henry V #Joel Edgerton #John Falstaff #Battle Of Agincourt #Hundred Years' War #England #France #knights

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five-miles-over · 6 months

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A girl does not want Romeo or Hamlet. A girl wants Shakespeare's Henry V.

#King Henry V #Henry V #Harry of england

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theodork · 22 days

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Here is a little sketch I did of Timothée's prince Hal because I need him (unfortunately 💀😭)

#The King #the king 2019 #timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #Timothee #Timothee fanart #fanart #Prince Hal #Hal #King Henry V #prince hal of Wales

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apolloanddaphnis · 10 months

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The Poet's Rusalka

Synopsis: Marina Czerwonka is a young Romani woman from a little village in Poland, after her mother dies her path changes drastically , dreams of ink stained fingers and green eyes, friends with beguiling strangers and an altercation that cements her course at a London tavern. She meets a rogueish lord and eventually wins the heart of not only the rake but a British monarch.

This is a Hal story, some things have been changed and its nothing like The King. This takes place during the restoration era of England in the 17th century, instead of Charles II being king its Hal, but he's Henry X not the V. Historical characters like the rebel poet John Wilmot, Nell Gwynn, and etc. Play huge parts in this story and I don't own them.

Big disclaimer, this is a very mature story and could be offensive.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Chapter I: A Fish out of Water

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Most Men are Cowards, all Men should be Knaves.

The Difference lies, as far as I can see,

Not in the thing it self, but the Degree.

-John Wilmot

🥀

It's been one year since I left Karpacz, one year since I buried my mother, and one year since my life changed forever.

I arrived in England only knowing Polish and Russian. I hardly had anything with me, and I took what I could of what was important.

Traveling in November through Eastern Europe to western is no easy feat.

I traveled through horses and carriages, it wasn't easy dodging shifty characters, but I've managed. My shawl and jewelry easily allowed everyone to know I am Romani, naturally I've been treated like a common whore, a thief, or both. A witch too, constantly but that's been my whole life.

When I made it to Paris, I was lucky enough to run into fellow Romani, Django Delort. He was handsome, tall and lanky and dark with laughing brown eyes, a thin mustache, and long, satin auburn curls he always had tied back with a purple ribbon. I stayed with him and his sister, Penelope, and her kindly husband Antoine. They were newly weds and pregnant with their first child. The family is very kind and didn't mind sharing their caravan with me and their food, so I made sure to be plenty of help. They taught me French, luckily Django and Penelope are fluent in Russian due to a maternal lineage.

Django was always full of laughter and jokes. He's an actor for the stage and inspired my interest in the theater, seeing such emotion and becoming somebody else was inspiring.

He wanted to marry me though, despite the constant attention he gains from the female population of Paris, and I couldn't have that. One, Django falls in love at least once a week, and I do not love him, and I won't marry for less.

"I don't want you to feel used, Django, you're my dearest friend in the world, a difficult feat in this world. Our bond is strong but unromantic, I am undeserving of your affections." I spoke to him in French as he helped me board the boat to London.

He stroked my cheek with such benign affection, his reddish brown ringlets blowing ardently in the May winds of Northern France. I gazed upon his cognac colored eyes that usually held so much joy and laughter, but now bathed in longing and despair. And I was the cause of that.

"You are more deserving than any prisoner of this realm, mon cherie, I am not good enough for you and that is why Cupid decided not to relinquish your heart to me. I understand this now, although it leaves me bitter. Do you have to leave for dreary old England? With people colder than your Polish winters?" He returned, in his native tongue.

I blinked away tears saltier than the sea, and stroked my friend's Motley colored scarf. "I know it's silly, but I've been dreaming visions of it. As a fellow Romani, you'd understand that can't you?"

"Ah yes, your dreams of long ink stained fingers and hooded green eyes in the shadows…our mother's would rise from the grave if we ignored such dreams." He brushed his fingers through my loose hair.

"Mon ami, this isn't forever this isn't goodbye, I love Paris. I will return to Paris, I will return to you and Penelope, and Antoine, and their child and children yet to come. "

He shoved me away but it was gentle and he took a large intake of breath, as if he found even something as natural as breathing unbearably difficult to pursue. "I want this to be as undemanding as possible, ma belle. Just go before I demand more than you can give." His voice was heavy with tears and I nodded mutely before boarding.

He didn't leave once I was on, but he didn't look my way either. He just gave me his back to gaze upon as I sailed off and away to the unknown, saying goodbye to the only friend I've ever known.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Current Day, The Three Crowns, London, 1674

Jane was the first to be kind to me.

She found me struggling to speak English. I had only known hello and thank you, she could tell I was in search of a position. Although she knew not Polish, Russian, or French, she had pulled me by my arm to a slender, beautiful young man who was sitting on the lap of an intoxicated and pawing excuse of a man. She said something in English and he immediately spoke French to me. A heavy weight was lifted off of my chest, and the fair young man had introduced himself as Jem. We spoke in French and he had explained to me his father was an English navy man who knocked up a French lady of the night, his mother. He had informed me that she died of syphilis when he was only ten. I offered most empathetic condolences, and both of us bonded over the loss of our mother and growing up in the world as bastards.

Growing up as Roma, you learn that you do not have the privilege to judge others, I didn't turn my nose up at prostitutes, it's not always easy finding work. Jem and Jane had spoken to the owner of The Three Crowns on my behalf, and Thom Pugh the owner took one look at me, desperate to make me one of his working girls. Jem had told me my exotic gypsy features and amethyst eyes made the man eager to make a bit of coin off of me. But Jem had assured me Jane persuaded Mr. Pugh to take me on as just a serving wench as well as a laundress for his rooms. I was safe due to the generosity of my newfound friends…for now.

Jem was teaching me English and he and Jane loved when I would read their palms and show them how to tell people's fortunes. It was all about trusting instinct and getting to know the person. I read people well, which is why I know Mr. Pugh isn't a man of his word and I made sure to stay out of sight as often as I could.

It was hard keeping the customers hands and eagerness away but I managed, I wasn't going to be a shaking little doe, like animals, people smell fear.

I helped Jem and Jane how to keep up with their hygiene as well, with that you could really see how beautiful the two are. Jane stands at a petite stature with curves of a noble lady, wide hips and a full bust she always has falling out of her bodice. Her coloring is pretty in a wild exotic way, sun-kissed like my people. Her eyes remind me of a sly cat, and they're a pretty blue-green, her full lips are always painted with Rouge like her cheeks and her jawline is squared off like a member of the gentry, whoever Jane's real parents were, they did her terribly wrong leaving her in the gutter. Her hair is like dark gold and bounces down her back in coils, she's the most sought after girl here for a reason, and not just on beauty alone. She's never in a foul mood, always laughing and bringing sunlight in wherever she goes, jesting and pulling pranks along with Jem. When I felt homesick and longed for my mother who now lived buried deep in the Earth and my father who was a slave to the seas, she made me forget with her warmth and her smiles.

Jem too is so very beautiful for this Saxon underworld, tall and lean like an interpretation of David. Porcelain like the statue too, with freckles beaming like stars across his upturned nose, eyes so blue you swore he was part sea-folk, lips so full and red and pretty for a man, and his hair fell in youthful and boyish raven waves. He has the most enchanting smile, and tempted those who thought their desires relied solely on the softer sex.

He always made sure I ate, and asked me everyday if anyone bothered me, the answer was always no.

In half a year I was speaking English comfortably, although my accent didn't hide that I'm a foreigner and had people assuming that I'm empty-headed, but I minded not.

"Jem, you speak English so well, proper. Better than everyone else here, why is that?"

He was drawing black kohl around his eyes, he reminded me of my people when he did that. I smiled and took the kohl from him to help. "Oh you mean why don't I sound like a common whore?" He asked with humor in his voice.

"I would never say it like that."

"No of course not, you're too sweet. The only one in this rotten little world God has dealt us with to not look upon my kind with revulsion." He handed me the rouge so I could paint his lips and high cheeks.

"We Romani are treated like mud beneath the wheels of a carriage, and my father is a pirate, I am not wealthy enough to judge."

He smiled. "There's a kindly gentleman, I'm to his liking. He brings me poems and oranges and lessons. I can read now too.''

There was something akin to love in his powder blue eyes, my friend is in love. I opened my mouth to speak on it but Jane burst in, in just a yellow corset with half her laces undone, a hiked up green skirt, exposing her red hosiery. "Jem, we've got someone for yeh." She smiled "oh look at that, pretty as a lady yeh are. Marina yeh so good at making us look more than we're worth somethin'." She took Jem's hand, dragging him out.

I cleaned up behind Jem and washed my hands in the wash bowl, humming an old song my mother would sing to me as a child.

The door creaked open, it was probably one of the girls asking for something. I have a basket full of nicely folded laundry.

"I'll be right there." I called as I bent over to pick up the basket. But forceful hands prevented me from doing so.

My heart clenched, my blood froze. I couldn't even breathe, foul breath perfumed my senses. I felt dizzy with illness. Something hard pressed into my backside. "Not a sound you Slavic whore!"

He started ripping at my bodice with a knife and I swallowed back tears, oh God this was really happening. There was nothing I could do about it and no one would care. I attempted still, to wriggle myself free as he pushed up my skirt and he slapped me in the face so hard I tasted blood as he tugged on my hair. "Oi! Stop that–Aye!"

His assault had come to stop when he was torn away from me, I gathered myself trying to hold together my torn bodice and sleeve and my hair that was now loose at my hips.

"My-my lord-"

At that I sharply turned around to face my rescuer. Jane stood beside a tall, slender nobleman. I noticed his handsome beauty as he had an opulent cane raised above my assailant who was now cowering on the floor. With his rags it made my rescuer look all the more every bit of title and income I am positive he has. His jawline is sharper than a knife, his chin and nose proud and his pretty, far set, gray eyes even wore a nasty haughty lidding. But there was disgust that colored his eyes. He wore a long, curly brown wig with the hats of style upon his head, adorn with ostrich feathers. "Are you so pathetic and hideous as well as oafish, so utterly incapable of being loved and I dare say–tolerated, that you feel like your only choice is to force yourself upon this tiny creature?" He laughed and didn't allow my attacker to speak, he waved his cane in the air and hit the drunkard in the nose. There was a sickening Crack and crimson poured like paint from his nose. "I assume you're from a beginning akin to fenced pigs, I assume it is common practice to take someone from behind and force miserable tiny cocks like yours there into any hole. Even if it's a hole in the fence, I daresay you don't care if it splinters your smelly foreskin as long as it's a hole any hole will do, I imagine that's how you got here. Your mother methinks was just any hole, a sweaty unappealing sow being forced into the mud by pungent boars. How many were there during your conception?" The lord sneered.

My mouth fell open in shock, my insides tickled in amusement, and I took dark delight in how thorough and detailed he insulted this man. Jane was having the time of her life laughing at the lord's cruel and entertaining words.

The lesser man had the audacity to look insulted and opened his mouth to answer, but the cruel and handsome lord didn't allow it. He took his cane and bashed the head into the rotten teeth of the pub crawler. His mouth overflowed with blood. The lord looked positively perturbed at the gory stain on his cane and with an irritated sigh, took out a pale green handkerchief to wipe it off. "I should cut your little porky cock off right now, it's far too small to be rendered useful. And even if your size was comparable to an adequate blade of pleasure and breeding, it'd still be without purpose for you haven't the slightest inkling how to use it." He grinned cruelly as his richly heel pressed down on the rapist's groin. The man wailed so boisterous in bloodcurdling pain that all who were present at the tavern had gathered around to watch the scene displayed.

It was perverse how people gawked and took great pleasure in watching violence. "It's quite pathetic with how incredibly old you are that you still can't use this little cheese knife correctly. If your ignorant inbred brain understood the meaning of consent, that'd be a start." He removed his plum velvet heel from the abused crotch.

It was finally the moment when my eyes met the stormy gray pair of my hero. Although taking in his slightly intoxicated eyes, his cruel tongue and where he was, I wondered if hero was the right word.

Mr. Pugh was outraged but at me, yelling at me about causing such trouble. He was ranting about how the only way to possibly recover from causing his establishment such reputation, which caused me to snort since its glorified brothel with a menu. The only way I could make up for it was to become a working girl. I opened my mouth to defend myself but my dark antihero had taken up for me once again.

"Mr. Pugh, you're so adamant about this woman using her beauty for a bit of coin one might easily imply that you yourself had arranged this…well whatever this was." The lord smirked but it lacked humor.

I had such delicious joy watching my employer fumble with his words as if English wasn't his first language. But I felt sick knowing the attempted thievery of my virtue was a plot, a means to an end. "Mm, well Miss…" His eyes focused on me, he almost looked curious.

He was asking me my name, I was flustered as I was in delay in answering. "Czerwonka, Marina Czerwonka. "

His perfectly arched brow rose. "Czerwonka, is that Polish?"

I nodded attempting to pull my tattered bodice back together.

To my surprise, the dark lord took off his velvet cape to wrap around me. "If you would prefer the employment of the spider who trapped you like a fly in his web, over being under my employment with very little play but a warm bed in the country. Then by all means stay behind." With that he turned to the door and kissed Jane's hand. "Another time Jane. "

She winked. "A pleasure as always Johnny. "

The lord she was so informal with left the room, I sputtered. "J-Jane, who was that?"

She grinned. "That's right, you're still so new…that was the infamous Lord John Wilmot, the 2nd Earl of Rochester."

I had no idea what these English titles meant. "What is he infamous for?"

She grinned and bumped my hip with hers. "The worst things."

"Could you help me pack before his carriage leaves?"

"Thatta girl." Jane guided me to my room, and I couldn't stop thinking about Lord Rochesters ink stained fingers…

@sufferingstarlight @meetmyothersouls

#timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet x oc #king hal #king henry v #hal x oc #henry v x reader #the king #john wilmot #jamie campbell imagine #jamie campbell bower

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meetmyothersouls · 1 year

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the witch part 10? i fucking love king Hal

King Hal is love, King Hal is life and holy fuck have I missed him!

The Witch

Part 10

Warnings: blood & lots of it, intense situational events, lust

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Hal’s eyes darted frantically between the open door and my waiting mouth while Aldous’ screams of pain echoed through the castle, as if he was torn between the choice to continue or to help his friend. His gaze fell back to me and stayed, eyes heated and filled with passion.

“Hal,” I said, not knowing the thoughts his mind held. He brought his face close once more and skated his lips across mine. There was something safe in Hal’s touch, something that felt a lot like home and distant memories swept away with time. I almost gave into the silkiness of his lips, but I couldn’t bring myself to kiss him again when sound of Aldous intensified. “Hal, I think he’s hurt.”

“Good,” Hal whispered, his tone amused and unaffected, his words breathy with lust and want. Hal’s mouth hung open with the need to continue kissing me, and if it weren’t for the gut wrenching screams, I would have laid my self out for him.

“Good? Hal, you cannot be serious.”

“He should hurt for how he speaks to you. Let him bleed a little, my Queen.” My insides melted at his words and it felt like my heart had taken up permanent residence in my stomach, but I couldn’t help but push him away. My hand went to his chest and Hal let out an almost childish whine. Hal’s body was solid and his hands gripped my dress covering my thighs. His jaw looked painfully tight, as if not continuing was killing him from the inside out. “I ache for you, Ellara. I have ached for you since I lost you. I won’t let a man as insignificant as Aldous keep me from claiming what’s mine.”

“You can claim me after, Henry.” I patted his shoulder and scooted back from him and slid off the table. “The one who loathes witches needs our help.”

Walking out of the dining hall, I was immediately overwhelmed by the scent of blood. If Hal could smell it, he didn’t make it obvious, but what was clear, even before laying eyes on Aldous, was that he was gravely injured. I walked faster if not from curiosity alone, causing Hal to have to quicken his pace to catch up. We descended the spiraling staircase that led to the main hall, the scent of blood became stronger with each Aldous’ screams. Hal’s look of annoyance quickly turned into that of worry as we neared the last step. There was so much blood. I slid in the thick, viscous fluid as I stepped on the landing, blood staining the white stain I wore.

“Wh-where is he?” Hal, stuttered, his face drained of all color. I looked around, finding, dark red foot prints rounding the corner.

“Come.” I grabbed Hal’s hand, not only because I needed to feel him in some way, but because I wasn’t sure if I was prepared to see what horrors we would behold as we followed the foot prints. “Aldous?” I called out, only to have my Hal’s fingers pressed lightly against my lips, shushing me.

“He may not be alone.” Hal pulled me behind his back, leading the way as we got closer. “I’ll let him die before I let anything happen to you.”

“I’ll be okay, He-”

“No. I’ll round the corner alone. I’ll only call you if it’s safe. You have to stay here, Ellara.”

I nodded as Hal stepped forward, blood squelching under his shoes. He placed a hand on the wall, preparing himself for the scene he was about to uncover, then turned abruptly to face me.

“Go,” I whispered shakily, though every part of me wanted him to stay. With his eyes glued to me, a small smile formed on his face. I shook my head. “What is it?”

“A moment. I’ve learned to take them when I can after what I’ve lost.” He stepped toward me trough the blood, sliding with each step. “And with you, I’ll take every moment this life has to offer, even if it means losing another.” I stood on a floor covered in crimson, confusion and curiosity roiling through me, but when Hal took my face in his hands and connected his lips to mine, I understood. I understood that he was scared. Scared of what he might find around the corner. Scared of losing me. He kissed me passionately, and when I kissed him back he melted into me, pressing me into his body. I fisted the front of his coat, gathering the soft furs into my hands pulling him even closer. Heavy breathing and soft moans fell from our mouths and into each others, only stopping when another blood curdling scream rippled from Aldous.

“Go,” I said again, even shakier than before. “Tell me when it’s safe.” Hal pressed his forehead against mine, a light sweat forming above his brow caused his skin to stick to mine. It took everything in me not to pull him close again, to savor the feeling of his body pressed against mine. To push away the dreadful feeling of losing him that slowly began to creep into my soul, and after the months of being in his castle, under his care and safety, being without him didn’t feel like something possible.

Hal turned, sloshing through the small river of blood that filled the main hall, this time not looking back as he rounded the corner. I heard Hal speaking softly and Aldous low grunts and moans of pain in response.

“Ellara,” Hal summoned, and I breathed a out a heavy sigh of relief that I had been holding in from the second he left me. I made my way around the corner, gasping as I took the sight in. Hal, kneeling over Aldous, covered form his waist down in bright red blood as he held up Aldous’ upper body. Blood poured from a thick jagged gash on his abdomen. This wasn’t a clean cut from a fight. This was the work of witch craft. My hands shook, knowing of only one witch village near the castle. The one that I grew up in. Rimemore.

“Ellara,” Hal’s voice shook. “Can you help him?”

I swallowed hard, in my village outside of Rimemore, before I was imprisoned for witchcraft, I was a self proclaimed herbist and healer. I could brew a concoction to heal any wound, a salve to calm any burn, an elixir to cure any illness, but I’d never dealt with a wound as severe as the one gouged on Aldous’ stomach.

“I can try.”

☽༓☾

It took hours and many trips to the royal garden for different herbs, to get Aldous’ bleeding to finally subside. Hal’s fingernails were embedded with a mixture of blood and soil while my entire body was covered in Aldous’ blood. I washed and packed his wound with a mixture of wormwood and hemlock. Hemlock to reduce the risk of fever and infection, wormwood for the pain. Hal was able to drag him into a bed in what the castle’s infirmary, where Circe would tend to him when she returned from where ever she had gone off to.

“He should sleep through the majority of the day,” I said, covering Aldous with a sheet. Hal stood in the threshold of the room in which Aldous recovered, his arms crossed and his face contorted in a mixture of anger and concern for his friend. “He’ll be okay, Hal.” I made my way to pass him, wanting desperately to wash myself and change out of my blood soaked clothes, but Hal’s fingers wrapped around my wrist and pulled me into him. His hand traveled up my back and into my hair, catching on the tangles where blood had dried and matted the locks together.

“In everything you do, you amaze me, Ellara.”

“It isn’t the best, but he should heal fine.”

Hal inhaled against my neck, breathing in my scent, in which could have only smelt like a mixture of me and blood. I attempt to move away, not waning Hal smell me in this state, but he only holds me tighter and closer to his body.

“I said, in everything you do, Ellara.” His face was intense in a look that heated me to the core. “All you have to do is breath and I’m on my knees for you, begging you for more.” There was blood on his face, but it didn’t ease my need or want for him. “Let me make love to you, my Queen. Let me show you the ways I can worship you,” he whispered.

I loosed a breath and his breathy words tickled my face. “N-not like this.”

A smirk pulled at his lips.

“Then I’ll bathe you and worship you all the while you beg for me.”

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