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nikethestatue · 9 months

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The Agreement

Chapter 10

The fuckfest continues. Explicit everything. You've been warned.

Azriel, Lord Night, Duke of Velaris

There were a few memorable moments in Azriel’s life. Some good, many very bad.

His father locking him in the cupboard for hours at a time, and then overnight, and sometimes the entire weekend–to ‘man him up’--was bad. His father being brutal and rude to Azriel’s mother–Azriel remembered many of those instances as well. Azriel walking in on his bride Morrigan and his brother Cassian post their bout of fucking, her thighs still smeared with virgin blood–hard to forget that one. Wars and battles, where he watched good men die, young men die, even the perceived ‘enemies’ being blown to smithereens, body parts being tossed up in the air, blood and guts raining upon them all like some grotesque rainfall. Yes, he remembered most of it, even when he tried very hard to forget.

Better moments that he recalled included watching his father grow obese and disgusting in his middle age, suffering from flare ups of gout, being so cumbersome and ungainly that he could barely function, until the man died a horrible death from tertiary stage of syphilis. Served him right. How Azriel smiled that day. How he and his mother rejoiced. His beautiful mother had long been exiled to Rosehall by her husband, which, in hindsight, was a blessing in disguise. The wretch hadn’t managed to give her the illness that eventually made him lose his mind, his face and his life.

The happiest moments of Azriel’s life included him being free…out in the wilderness, fending for himself, hunting and fishing, building fires and watching the endless night sky. It was finding a small, nondescript distillery in Ireland, which produced that finest whiskey that he’d ever tasted. It included attending the World Fairs and learning about all the advances in science and industry, and taking advantage of things that he saw there before anyone else dared to. He had even driven a vehicle–an automobile, as they were beginning to call it–which was an open carriage powered by gasoline, and which had intrigued him greatly. He had a feeling that these automobiles would soon replace horses. His peers at the House chuckled at him for his enthusiasm, but Azriel only smiled back politely, and began secretly investing in Carl Benz’s newly patented machines.

However, nothing could compare to the thrill, the utter fascination and joy that he’d experienced just this very evening. When his beautiful Elain spread her silken thighs for him and allowed him to explore her tight little hole. Allowed him to open her up, stretch her and bravely suffered the scrutiny, as he looked. Looked inside of her. His sweet girl watched him with her big brown doe eyes, while he looked into her, inside her body, until he saw her delectable little barrier, which made her opening look especially tiny. What man got to see his woman’s own virginity inside of her, right before he battered right through it? Not many, he’d bet. But he was lucky. He was lucky with his lovely flower girl.

Now she lay in his arms. Languid and a bit relaxed, basking in the afterglow of her climaxes, while he kept his cock inside of her raw, freshly opened pussy. She was still so tight, squeezing around his shaft, that it took a lot from him not to start moving in her again. He didn’t want to be brutal with her, because he knew that he’d ripped her pretty savagely, but she was so wonderfully responsive to him, so needy, so grateful, and looking at her lovely, flushed face, so pleased, that he didn’t feel too bad. He’d given her both pain and a lot of pleasure as well, which is what he promised, and what she was expecting…actually, pleasure wasn’t something she even considered.

He kept her legs widely spread, with her knee thrown over his thigh, so he could watch his cock between the puffy folds, her pink bud swollen from how aroused she was and from the dick slaps that her slit took earlier. He couldn’t believe that he did that to her, but in the heat of the moment, he wasn’t exactly thinking rationally. And she liked it–he could see it in her face, her awed and rapturous expression. She liked it.

Elain threw her head back and looked at him, her eyes full of adoration and happiness. He cupped her jaw and whispered ‘open’, as his thumb brushed over her lips. She obeyed immediately–his gorgeous, submissive girl–and he dipped his tongue into her mouth.

“Pretty girl, let me ride you again,” he murmured into her mouth. “I know you are sore,” he cooed, though he thrust deep and slow into her, filling her completely, and she winced and gasped, while he pulled back, only to push in her again. He loved going slow with her, filling and filling and filling her, and watching her struggle to take him.

“It hurts,” she whispered with a cute pout.

“I know, sweetheart,” he took her hand and placed it between their legs, until her fingers touched his dick. “Feel me as I fill you,”

She licked her lips and felt around her stretched hole, which was filled to the hilt with his shaft. He pumped hard and deep, watching her expression, as her little fingers explored the act of penetration, her face confused and fascinated. He picked up the pace, fucking her harder, her pink tits bouncing with every heavy ram of his member. He kissed her pouty, soft lips, while watching with rabid delight the movement of his own cock, as it disappeared within the tight confines of her body.

“A–zzz,” she moaned into his neck, her head resting on his shoulder, “it feels…amazing. More, please.”

Such a polite girl.

He gently pushed her head down, and whispered, “watch us. Watch me make your pink pussy mine,”

She glanced down and blushed wildly at the sight, muttering, “that’s so naughty…”

Azriel chuckled, pumping her harder, while he placed his thumb on her bud, rubbing it firmly and making her squeal and cry out loudly.

“Take it all, sweetheart,” he encouraged her, while she struggled in his arms, trying to make herself comfortable and watch, as he held the back of her head, not allowing her to look away.

“Auuuu,” she whined, crying out softly, “it’s too deep,”

“It’s just deep enough,” he argued with a laugh.

“It’s too much,” she complained half-heartedly, though her breathing was increasing in speed, especially as he worked his thumb harder and harder. The pleas of ‘too much’ quickly turned to ‘more, more’ as she shuddered, her eyes no longer focused on anything, her head falling back on his chest, as she climaxed hard against him.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised her, kissing her ear, her cheek, her hair, “get ready to take my seed. Open yourself wide for me, gorgeous.”

Elain bit his lower lip painfully, whimpering and crying, as he released inside of her with an euphoric wave of pure pleasure. Wrapping her tightly in his arms, he pressed her to him, as she giggled and sucked on his neck softly.

“Az,” she whispered after their panting had subsided and he released his iron hold on her just a fraction.

“Yes, sweetness? Are you alright?”

She nodded and stroked his cheek.

“Your smile is beautiful,” she said quietly, looking up at him. “You don’t smile enough. But right now, it’s beautiful.”

“I suppose being inside my girl makes me smile,” he proposed.

“Are you going to do it again?” she inquired giddily and he burst out laughing.

“Someone’s liking all this sinful debauchery after all,’ he tweaked her nipple in his fingers. “Look at you–naked, not a chemise in sight, begging for more, after being properly satisfied,” he kissed her and she just about melted against his chest. Then, seriously, he pressed, “how are you feeling, sweetheart?”

She thought momentarily and answered, “sore. Tender.”

Azriel sat up on the bed, his cock still lodged inside of her, but as he pulled her along with him, he muttered, “let’s see what is happening here,”

Gingerly, he gripped his shaft and then withdrew it slowly from her, so as not to cause her any more pain. Elain grimaced nevertheless, and they watched a flood of semen and blood pour out of her gaping hole.

Azriel grinned with satisfaction, his face prideful.

Elain’s face was horrified.

“Oh, my god, sir, I am sorry,” she cried out, trying to wipe the blood off with her fingers and failing miserably, only to smear it into the bedding. They hadn’t even made it under the sheets, so the mess spilled out on the cover. “I am so sorry,”

Azriel interrupted her, “don’t be ridiculous.”

His eyes followed the trail of blood and he drew his fingers over Elain’s swollen nether lips.

“My pretty virgin. I love seeing this. There is nothing to be sorry or ashamed about.”

“But I messed up the…”

“And we’ll launder it.”

He stroked her cheeks tenderly, kissing away the panic in her eyes.

“You are beautiful,” he told her. “Everything about you is a delight.”

She caught his hand in hers and kissed his fingers. Azriel pressed his lips to the top of her head and then got up.

It’s been a while since he’s had such vigorous sex. Since he’s been unleashed.

Come to think of it, it’s never been like this. And it felt indescribable. Like he could fly!

“Stay,” he told her. “I’ll get a wet cloth to clean you up.”

“You don’t have to!” she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Oh, but I do,” he winked at her and headed to the bathing room.

The last time he was intimate with anyone, it was with Morrigan.

Sex with her was satisfactory. She was reasonably passionate, and actually climaxed without embarrassment, which he appreciated. But she was also an aristocrat, high born and prudish, and their options were…limited. They engaged in regular, but unimaginative acts, which were good enough. Nothing spectacular. Nothing that he remembered. Thinking back, as he stood naked at the sink, giving his cock and hands a wash, while wetting a cloth for Elain’s newly breached pussy, he couldn’t recall even one sexual encounter with his wife. They all blended in together. Nice, but not memorable. Lights off. Some strained, fumbling oral, mostly from him, as she wouldn’t deign to take him in her mouth. Her on her back. Him behind. That’s about it for the repertoire. Sex with Morrigan was like vanilla pudding–ubiquitous, reasonably good, nothing to write home about. Nothing like spreading Elain’s tender hole with his fingers and peering inside of her. Nothing like feeling the rip of her barrier and the shudder of her body. Those were moments that he’d never forget as long as he lived. And the night was young. The relationship was young. Their agreement only just began.

Now, one niggling worry definitely scratched the inside of his head.

It wasn’t even fair to think that, and he’d never, ever tell Elain anything about it, but he suddenly worried that he’d get her pregnant too quickly. He already came inside of her twice. What if he already reached his goal? What if, unbeknownst to them, she was already seeded?

And that wouldn’t do.

Naturally, he wanted a babe, but maybe…not too soon.

When he emerged from the bathing room, only now realising that he hadn’t closed the door, and that Elain probably watched him the entire time, he saw her sitting on the bed, a little pale trickle of blood and seed still seeping out of her. He walked over her, his bare cock already at half mast, because the sight of his girl made him instantly hard. He’d never felt so alive. She was exciting, new, sensual, beyond gorgeous. She also gave him plenty of leeway with her stunning body and he couldn’t wait to explore more and more with her. He didn't think he’d ever get enough of her. Ever grow tired of being inside of her.

He sat on the edge of the bed and then pulled on the servants’ bell and Elain jerked, watching him, her eyes wide and horrified.

“What are you doing?” she gasped in terror.

“Are you thirsty?” he asked, ignoring her question, and then gently wiped between her legs.

She shuddered and he could see that she was definitely pained. He went slowly and carefully, not too worried about keeping his semen inside of her. Before, he thought that he’d make her keep all of it inside, but now…that baby would come when it came.

“I am, but,”

There was a knock on the door, but no one opened it, though they heard Nuala’s voice.

“My lord, can I be of service?”

“We’d like a pitcher of water, perhaps a bottle of champagne. A jar of oil. We will not be needing you for the rest of the night.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Elain was beet-red next to him, and he smiled and leaned to kiss her.

“Go relieve yourself,” he ordered her, but when she attempted to stand up, she teetered on her long legs like a clumsy newborn fawn. Azriel couldn't help himself and laughed at her pathetic efforts, before swinging her in his arms and carrying her to the bathing room. He placed her straight down on the toilet and before she could protest, added, “I’ve already seen everything.”

He left her behind with some reluctance, but did not close the door behind him. He wanted to watch her, would’ve wiped her himself, but he decided not to add to her general mortification. Yet. She was his. And he planned to do whatever he wanted with her, and to her.

By the time Elain emerged from the bathing room, she stood firmer on her feet, but her steps were still wobbly and tentative. Azriel poured them both champagne, as well as water, and then sat down on the bed and patted his knee.

“Come here, sunshine. I want you next to me at once.”

Elain walked over shyly, though when she made a silly move to cover herself with her hand, he clicked his tongue at her sternly, and shook his head.

“I am sorry, sir,” she whispered, and then perched herself awkwardly on his thigh.

“Miss Archeron,” he asked coolly, “have you forgotten something?”

She blinked at him and asked, “what?”

“Our arrangement is now in full effect,” he reminded her, as he splayed his hand over her thigh and pulled her closer, so his cock poked at her side. He cupped her boldly in his hand and let his thumb brush over her nub, saying, “Which means you are mine for the foreseeable future. Your womb is mine, your mouth,” he pressed his lips softly to hers, “all your holes…”

“But,” she began.

He pressed between her butt cheeks with his fingers and cut her off, “No. All your holes. You keep yourself open for me at my request. Now, you are free to request the same of me–if I am around, I will be available to you,”

Elain chewed the inside of her cheek and murmured, “I can ask you?”

“Of course. If you wish to take my cock, tell me and it will be yours. Furthermore, should you require any other services from me, I shall be glad to deliver.”

“What sort of services?”

He smiled and handed her a coupe of champagne.

“To your first time, sweetheart,” he raised the glass to her.

“Thank you, sir,” she smiled. “It was…is sublime the right word?”

“Use whichever words describe it. I would use unforgettable. Glorious.”

“Truly, sir? You enjoyed yourself?”

“Have I ever, sweetness! You are beguiling. I cannot express how much I loved it.”

Elain gulped all her champagne and then Azriel insisted that she drink water, which she did as well.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and told him,

“I must admit, sir, I did not know what to expect.”

“I am aware,” he teased.

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, draping it over his neck and admitted,

“No, truly. I had no inkling what it would be like…Beyond the simple biology, I just…” she sighed. “I am sorry I doubted you,”

“I am glad that I was able to pleasantly surprise you!” he was amused.

“When you told me about ‘pleasure’ I didn’t know what it meant,” she continued, her voice excited. “And now–it’s the greatest pleasure I’ve ever experienced!”

“It should be,” he nodded. “I am glad that I was able to deliver it to you.”

He looked at her soft, happy face and whispered, as he nipped on her jaw and her chin with his teeth, “would you like to experience more?”

She nodded instantly, lighting up, though he felt her body tense in his arms. Kissing her neck, he calmed her, “don’t worry. We’ll let your little pussy rest from now on. I’d like to do some other things now because my interests are varied and singular,” he lifted her off his lap and laid her down on the bed. She was panting softly, perspiration misting her skin, her cheeks blazing pink. Azriel observed her from his towering position and smiled at her, before directing, “knees up, sweetheart, and spread yourself nice and wide for me.”

Elain sighed nervously, but did as she was told, without any reluctance, which made Azriel quite happy.

She settled into the position, hooking her hands under her knees, and Azriel murmured lovingly, “don’t worry, Ellie. I’ll take care of you,”

“I know, my,”

“No,” he cut her off severely, and suddenly, slapped her stretched slit, thwacking his palm over her slickness, and making her cry out. Not from pain. Her face just about lit up like a Chirstimas tree when his fingers made contact with her swollen little nub of pleasure.

“No ‘sirs’ or ‘my lords’,” he warned her, slapping her again, and making her moan so loudly, he figured they’d heard her outside. Poor Devlon was probably having an episode back in his rooms. It made Azriel chuckle to himself.

“Only Az or Azriel. Or ‘more’ or ‘god’,” he told her. “When we are here together, I am Azirel, your damn god, Elain.”

She nodded wordlessly but he insisted, “say it.”

“Yes. Yes, Azriel,” she licked her lips, watching him.

“My sweet girl,” he dropped on his knees in front of her, and gently opened her up with his fingers, pulling on her pink, wet lips. She sucked in her breath, watching him in utter confusion, before he pressed his lips to her pink bud and made her buckle so hard, she whacked him with her foot, and he almost toppled backwards. He couldn’t help himself and began to laugh loudly and gregariously against her wet, gorgeous flesh.

“Don’t kill me, sweetheart. At least use my cock a few more times to get yourself some climaxes.”

“My lord…lord…god,” she bleated hysterically. “What are you doing?!? Oh god, what are you…you can’t! You are licking it!”

He ignored her and put his face back into her opening, nosing into it, before he licked her from top to bottom, taking his time to flick his tongue over her clit, before sliding into her little hole and licking around there.

She was on the verge of a full blown breakdown, and that was before he slid even lower and licked on her other hole.

At that, her fingers grabbed the blood-stained bed cover and she wrenched it violently, while her toes curled and her thighs trembled.

Azriel loved it. He loved her unbridled, wild, natural reactions. They were genuine, and therefore, more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen before.

She was quivering and shaking, as his tongue worked over both of her holes, licking on each one with intentional determination.

“Breathe, sweetness,” he told her, kissing both of her wiggling feet, before returning to the puckering hole between her soft cheeks.

“You can’t, you can’t,” she kept muttering mindlessly, but he could. He did what he had never attempted to do to anyone else, and he was mindless with his own joy. His cock could probably batter a castle wall right now–who needed a Trojan Horse–but he could only imagine how good it would feel once he filled her.

Everything about Elain was new, delicious and untouched. The idea of him being the first in everything was intoxicating. He moved back to her clit and wrapped his mouth around it, before he bit it lightly. She tensed against him, her pink flesh quivering everywhere, while he tightened his teeth and held her bud in his mouth.

“I will bite it if you are going to be bad,” he warned her. He wouldn’t. Not hard. But she didn’t know that.

“I…I will be good,” she promised.

“Yes?”

“Yes, yes, I promise,”

“Alright then,” he fastened his lips over her clit again, and then stuck his finger inside for a moment to gather some of her wetness, before pushing it slowly, but firmly into her tight asshole. He sucked her for a good few moments, while she whimpered and cried above him.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, gently, but firmly manoeuvring his finger inside of her. Slowly sliding it in and out, and allowing her to acclimate to the sensation, he kissed her clit, her sopping slit, her opening with slow, mellow kisses, tonguing all of them as he explored her.

“Nooo,” she sobbed, “it’s too good…it’s…amazing,”

Yes, he was going to make his sweet girl lose her mind tonight, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His finger wiggling inside her, stretching her narrow hole, he licked around it, before ordering her to sit up. With his finger buried in her bottom, she leaned back on her hands stiffly, her breathing erratic, her hair a wild mess around her, her eyes wet with tears of pleasure.

“How does it feel?” he asked, pumping her slowly back and forth.

She shook her head, distraught, whispering ‘I don’t know…I don’t know anything…”

“You want me to stop?”

“NOOO,” she screamed. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop!”

Her ass clenched around his finger and he withdrew, before licking at her opening again, and then…he spit on his fingers.

Elain gasped.

He imagined that she would’ve never assumed that he’d even knew how to spit, which was hilarious.

“You are going to take two now,” he explained calmly, and then thrust two fingers inside her soft bum. Elain groaned, her brow furrowing from the pressure of his fingers, as he spread her, opening her up slowly, but with determination.

“Az,” she sobbed, “kiss me. Kiss me now,”

Azriel moved quickly to give her what she needed, wrapping her in his arm and pumping her, as she pressed herself to him and reached for his mouth in desperation. He let her kiss him, which she did impatiently, pulling his tongue in her mouth and kissing him deeply, lovingly.

Somehow, incredibly, he and Elain simply…worked out well together. They found an innate, natural symbiotic connection the likes of which was impossible to explain. From the moment that he saw her photograph, Azriel just…knew. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew it. Elain belonged with him. To him. And it made it so much harder when she kissed him so breathlessly to know that this wouldn’t be forever. One day, sooner rather than later, she’d be nothing but a memory, a falling, shining star that streaked across the darkness of his life. And for that, Azriel was grateful. Better to have loved and lose her in the end, than never to have loved at all. Yet, it made his heart ache with longing and preemptive sadness.

Elain shifted and moaned next to him, her lips tender and hungry on his own.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he urged her, pushing his fingers in her and opening them up, while she grunted, but also eased down on them.

“That’s good,” he approved. “Just like that. You are taking it so well.”

Her sharp little teeth bit his neck, as she sucked on it, marking him the same way he liked marking her. He breathed in with pleasure, eyes closer, enjoying her lips, the feel of her little bum as it opened up reluctantly around his fingers. He plunged his fingers rougher and faster, emptying her almost completely, only to slide back in up to his knuckles. In and out.

She choked and moaned into his shoulder, biting him, raking her nails down his arm, his back, wiggling and panting, barely able to control herself.

“You are so tight, pretty girl,” he told her, tipping her face to kiss her again. “Now we are going to stretch you for a while, and then I think,”

“What?” she moaned, looking at him with her lovely chocolate eyes.

“You might just be begging for my cock inside of you.”

He kissed her again, repositioning her so she was more comfortable, though he didn’t stop moving his fingers in her bottom.

“You are my beautiful, perfect girl,” he complimented her, his own expression mellow and softened, as he enjoyed the sight of her. He’d never seen anything more tempting, more obscenely wanton, more willing. Elain knew nothing and therefore, had no inhibitions, which was magical in itself.

“Ellie, I want you to open your mouth, my sweet,” he whispered into her sweaty neck. “Did you like sucking my fingers before?”

“Yes, Az…I love everything.”

“That’s good, beautiful, because you are going to suck them some more, alright?”

She opened her mouth and he easily slid two fingers between her lips. She licked his digits, swirling her tongue around them, before he pushed deeper and she sputtered and choked loudly. Her eyes were frightened, but he kissed her forehead gently and said, ‘it’s alright. Suck as much as you can, and swallow.”

She nodded and he began working both of his hands in two of her holes, matching the rhythm, pushing his fingers deep. She yelped and retched and swallowed and her bum hole clutched and tensed.

“That’s it, Ellie,” he whispered, thrusting deeper into her throat, “that’s it.”

She was a mess, but he was enjoying every second of it, watching her heave and drool and pant with pure adoration on his face.

Goodness, this was not what he was expecting. Pumping Elain’s sweet virgin holes wasn’t what he had planned. He hadn’t planned anything actually. When she left him to go change, he was fully intent on playing cards and having a casual Sunday night with her in his arms. But at some point, his whole body rebelled against him. It needed her. His cock demanded attention, demanded her, and Azriel couldn’t find the strength to fight his baser desires. He wanted Elain from the moment he saw her, and he needed to take her. Still, he figured he’d be gentle and would fuck her once, to rid her of her virginity, and that would be it. And maybe some cuddles afterwards. The two of them now–panting and grunting, shunting and thrusting, licking, biting, scratching, sweating…This was not what he was expecting. And he loved every second of it. There was no going back for the two of them. Now he knew what she was capable of, and how she matched him in her filthy desires, there was only one path for them–exquisite, unabashed debauchery.

“Beautiful, will you take my cock in your pretty mouth?” he asked against her wet lips, kissing her, while she huffed and strained with his finger down her throat. “Tell me yes,”

She nodded, her eyes wet from the pressure.

“Yes, Az, give it to me,” she managed at last, while he rubbed himself in his hand.

“It’s so big,” she added cautiously, “how will I manage…”

“Sweetheart, you’ll give me a superiority complex,” he chuckled, as he settled next to her and his shaft brushed against her cheek.

“Well, you are kind of superior,” she noted with a chuckle. “In every way.”

He couldn’t argue that. His cock was proportional to his size, but his size was massive. At six feet six inches, he knew that he was enormous, and he towered over everyone around him. He was a foot taller than Elain. And his cock was a whole nine inches, which seemed normal on his body, but was anything but for an average woman.

She opened her mouth though without hesitation and stuck her tongue out, allowing him entry. He pushed inside, slowly, allowing her time to adjust and actually unhinge her jaw. She strained against him, as he tipped her chin up, and whispered, ‘eyes on me’.

Leaning back on her elbows, her knees to her chest, as he relentlessly worked her hole with his fingers, making it soft and pliant, she took him deeper in her mouth. Her gorgeous eyes watered from the tension, but she sucked his dick herself, pulling on it with her tongue, licking on the head.

“Ellie,” he stroked her face with his thumb, “there is nothing more beautiful than you are right now. Look at you,” he sighed with pleasure. “My stunning girl. My flower.”

Yes, he could be filthy, and yet whisper the tenderest endearments to her, while moving fast to reach her throat.

“Don’t fight it,” he told her, “just take it in,” but he knew that he’d have to break some resistance down, and he plunged hard, thrusting quickly and deeply into her mouth, the head of his cock battering the back of her throat with every push. He fingered her bottom hole aggressively, his mind swimming with need to finish, with desire to dominate her completely. She looked absolutely divine next to him–her red lips swollen and wrapped around his dark shaft, the noises in her throat desperate and gurgling, her eyes wet and teary. But he knew it was because of her natural desire to please him that prevented her from retching, even as she took his dick as deep as it was possible. She moaned and panted around him, her little hand cupping his balls and stroking it, while she finally began to move her head over his shaft, finding a mutual rhythm for both of them.

“That’s good, beautiful,” he encouraged her gently, “doing so well for me.”

Her bum was much looser now, and he felt her clench his fingers tightly, as her breath came in staccato pants, and as he curled them just so, Elain let go and her back arched, as her ass pulsed needly around the thrusting digits.

Azriel waited for her, pumping her mouth steadily, watching her melt and wobble, watching beads of sweat gather on her forehead, watching her eyes close, blinking heavily. It’s then that he pulled out of her mouth, even if she chased the cock with her lips, and flipped her on her front.

“I’ll be careful with you, pretty girl,” he promised, as he gave his shaft a few strong tugs, and lined it up with her little asshole, which seemed to wink at him excitedly. Elain half-collapsed on her elbows, raising her hips for him and he parted her knees further with his own, as he gripped his wet cock. He reached the cocktail cart, where the jar of oil was waiting, and then drizzled a bit on his cock, and then into the waiting opening of her rectum. Elain shuddered and moaned, stiffening against the blunt head of his cock, as it prodded her entrance.

“If you don’t like it, you will tell me,” he warned.

“Nooo, I want it,” she demanded, her voice pleading. “Your fingers felt so good inside…I want more…”

“My dick is not my fingers,” he reminded her. “It will be painful.”

“I don’t care,” she mewed, “take me…take my third hole…”

“We’ll go nice and slow, alright?”

She nodded and Azriel pushed forward, easing the bulbous head into her slowly, and carefully.

She moaned long and low, biting the pillow, and he reached under her and fingered her nipples, offering her another sensation, and diverting her attention from the pain. Her eager tiny hole blossomed around his shaft, and he groaned with desperate bliss that came from sliding into her ass. The oil helped immensely, allowing for a smooth, easy glide.

“How is it?” he asked, tweaking her luscious nipples and her full breasts within his fingers.

“Oh it burns, Az…” she complained, but without much fire in her voice. It was trembling and subdued, but she wasn’t fighting him. “Please more…I want to feel all of you,” she begged. “Please,”

“I’ll be slow,” he assured her, and pushed even deeper. She cried out a long, pained cry, but then looked over her shoulder and he dropped over her, pushing his dick all the way in, and kissing her ravenously.

“Your last virginity is gone, my sweet, loving girl,” he murmured into her lips. He didn’t mention it to her, but he did his as well–he’d never taken a woman anally before, and he had just lost his anal virginity just as much as she did.

The tightness of her was mouth-watering, and he struggled to maintain his composure. He wanted to ram his cock roughly into her, but instead, he concentrated on how she felt against his shaft. She was hot and loose, her muscles pressing and twitching all around him, and as he pulled back, only to shove inside again, she cried softly against his cheek.

“Az,” she breathed, “I didn’t know you could take me there…”

“Seems like I just did,” he joked, as he began to pump her with deep, steady thrusts.

“I want it so much,” she confessed.

Oh blimey! His girl liked it in her pretty bum. He didn’t know if he should count his blessings, or lament that it was all just too amazing. His brilliant girl took him in every hole and loved each time.

She didn’t fight him at all, simply moaned deep in her chest, expressing satisfied ‘mmmm’ over and over again. He knew that he was hurting her–he had to be–but she took him willingly.

“You are not going to be able to walk tomorrow,” he teased, squeezing her shoulder with his hand and riding her hard, as he straightened behind her. Her pale, round butt cheeks were stretched and the picture of her crimson hole stretched around his cock would be seared in his mind forever. It was the most erotic thing he ever experienced.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she reminded him with a laugh. “Oh god, Az…Azriel…it’s so hot,” she garbled, “it’s hot and deep…I can’t…”

“Your little arse is as beautiful as the rest of you,” he complimented her, pounding into her without pause.

“Your member is so darn huge,” she hissed and he laughed again.

“And your holes are tight. Guess only one thing left to do–ride them daily!”

“Oh…” she grunted, when he pushed especially hard, “oh it burns so good. Are you really going to ride by bum daily?”

“At least daily…I can never stop now.”

He pushed her flat on her stomach, so she lay spread eagle beneath him, and whispered, “open up your bum cheeks for me and keep like that.”

He settled above her thighs, and she pulled her buttocks apart for him, compliantly taking the full length of him again and again, as she moaned and groaned wordlessly.

His hips could not stop moving, bouncing against her soft ass, and even if he wanted to stop or slow down–which he did not–he wouldn’t be able to. He was operating on pure instinct. He needed to take his woman. He balls ached and he had another full load in him, which he absolutely was planning to release in her ass.

He didn’t want it to end, and simply allowed him the joy of riding her. There was nothing else. Only her. He kissed her cheek, her thick mottled hair, licked on her tongue. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t resist finishing in her ass and the way she looked at him when their eyes met, he knew that she’d welcome it. The idea of her leaking from both of her holes with his seed almost made him explode right then and there. He could do it again–could do it all night long–bathe her, lotion her up, and start anew. But he didn’t want Elain to think of her first times in connection to pain. He knew he needed to pace himself. She was his. And as she began whimpering beneath him, her fingers jamming into the soft mounds of her bum, her cheeks flushing a peachy pink, Azriel knew that his girl would always welcome this–him pounding her perfect little ass–because she received pleasure from it.

“Deeper, deeper,” she kept begging, spasming against his chest, her asshole twitching and milking him until he couldn’t continue any longer and pumped his seed inside. He was shuddering just as powerfully as she was, sweat dripping off his brow, as he ploughed relentlessly into her ass.

“Azriel,” she moaned, lightly dragging her fingers over his jaw, as he grunted and huffed into her ear.

“Elain,” he responded, hissing and then kissed her lips.

He lay there like he did before, his cock spent, but still buried in her hole. His balls felt empty. He felt empty.

Elain was everything. His dream. His lover. His whole desire. His woman.

And now, he needed to figure out how not to make her a baby.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #azriel and elain #elain x azriel #azriel #elain #The Agreement #Chapter 10 #elriel fanfic #elriel fanfiction #my writing #victorian era #victorian england #acotar fanfic #my fanfic

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bettsfic · 2 years

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THANK GOD you saw the episode, omg. So many thoughts. With Criston and Rhaenyra in partthe one that reads as losing their virginity is him and in a way it was, there was a deleted scene where he's properly knighted by her and gets his cape, that's his virtue and she's taking away in the same way Daemon took hers when he snatched that hat out her head, only she's throwing it on the ground like it's nothing and it's devastating, for him it's a big deal and she isn't being gentle at all 1

If this was prom night, not only she didn't bring him as a date, she also stepping on his little prom suit he worked so hard to get, but they end up going ahead anyways and of course she isn't this shithead Chad, she might be throwing the armour on the ground but she's extremely gentle touching him. I saw someone comparing it to Brienne and Jaime in s8 and wanted to scream, d&d butchered that scene, the sex here actually tells a story.

i definitely see what you're saying, re: loss of virginity, but iirc there's a scene in the hunt episode where criston talks about having been with a lot of women? or maybe i misunderstood that. it's while they're walking with their horses and he admits being her knight is the highest status anyone in his family has ever been afforded. and that he could marry a commoner if he wanted. i really thought the implication there was that he was saying "oh hi i'm a slut btw."

and i agree, i don't think i saw the comparison of the braime scene at all but that might be because i don't remember it very well, having been so devastating by the immediate succession of terrible events.

i won't be able to watch more until i get back from my residency* but hopefully i can avoid spoilers!

(*no cell service, minimal internet, can only watch what i downloaded to my laptop before i left)

#hotd

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peaceisadirtyword · 3 years

Text

Heathen V (Ivar/Edlynn)

A/N: Hello! I might have gotten a bit carried away with this(?) Sorry😅 I hope it’s not too boring though🥺 I was just going to rewrite the ending and suddenly... I had 1000 more words💀 anyway, I hope you like it!♥️ In this chapter I talk about norse mythology and christianity, and even if I’ve read about it (norse mythology, at least) I’m by no means an expert, so I had to consult some friends and people I know that are professionals. In any case, I’m sorry if I wrote anything wrong, please tell and forgive me.

Btw, thank you so much for your messages! I’m feeling better now🥰 I watched some videos of Alex and Marco and I calmed down a bit! I suppose I just need to relax a bit, it’s okay, but seriously thank you for your messages and for always being so understanding with me💞🙏🏻

Warnings: talk about religion, mentions of violence, war and all that sh1t... Ivar is too perfect I’d like to marry him but, unfortunately, I can't

Words: don’t hate me but there’s 5492 words under this... I hope it’s worth it (?)

Heathen Masterlist

gif belongs to @therealcalicali

For Edlynn, it was both scary and hypnotizing to see Ivar learning how to read. He seemed to understand things quickly and even if they didn't really have any materials for him to practice writing, Edlynn saw him carving letters on wood more than once, like he did with the runes. In a few days, Ivar could understand some parts of the books, even if he still needed help, and Edlynn remembered bitterly how much time it took for her to learn basic words and how many times the priest that taught her and her siblings scolded her.

In return, Ivar agreed to tell her a bit more about his culture. He talked about the Gods, even showed some runes to her, she asked him to show her their longships, and was amazed by the carvings and the designs. Sometimes, she'd ask him to translate some words from English to Norse, and soon became obsessed with his language, trying to memorize everything she could for when she went back home. Mildrith would love it.

"Can we go back to reading?" Ivar sighed, raising an eyebrow when Edlynn asked him to translate a few words more. He had spent the entire day with Hvitserk and was on a good mood, but he was also tired.

"Yes, sorry" she blushed a bit, realizing her eagerness was probably improper "Just one more, please"

Ivar nodded slowly. He found her excitement adorable, and he had to hold back a smile more than once when she tried to repeat some words with a soft voice.

"How do you say sun and moon?" she tilted her head, curiously "It's true that they are Gods for you?"

Mildrith had told her once that the northman she had been with had told her that they worshipped the sun and the moon, as if they were Saints or Gods. And, for some reason, Edlynn became obsessed with it.

"Those are two words" Ivar smirked "But they are Sól and Máni, and they are Gods, yes, but slightly different from the Aesir and the Vanir" he shrugged "It's a long story"

Edlynn waited a few more seconds, maybe expecting for him to keep telling the story.

"So the moon is a Goddess?"

Ivar hummed, nodding.

"She's a woman, sister to Sól, the sun" he shrugged.

"That makes sense" Edlynn bit her lip, interested "But, how can you say they are a man and a woman? They're not humans" she smiled softly, amused "They can't be man and woman"

"But they are" Ivar frowned "It's like that story of yours about the Virgin, I've heard that one before, how can you tell she was a virgin?" he shrugged.

"Because God chose her to carry his son, the one who would bring His word to us"

"You christians are too obsessed with virginity" Ivar rolled his eyes. Edlynn felt her cheeks burn, and cleared her throat.

"It's a sin not to be a virgin when you get married"

"Yes, I've heard a lot about those sins" Ivar nodded "And I still think it's ridiculous, why would your God demand that you deny the pleasure of having sex to yourselves?"

"It's an act of purity, of faith" Edlynn narrowed her eyes. She knew the northmen were much less... Traditional, with these things, and sometimes she felt somehow curious. It wasn't a topic that was very discussed at the court, and much less at home with her father... Once, Edlynn and Mildrith saw a couple on the stables and asked Hilda about it. The nun was so angry at them that she made them pray for hours, and then made them promise they wouldn't go around talking about it.

"It's stupid" Ivar shrugged "You would be much happier if you forgot about that"

The girl pressed her lips together, a bit bothered. Ivar's smirk showed he was trying to get a reaction from her, but Edlynn wouldn't start arguing.

"I didn't expect a heathen to understand it" she shrugged.

Ivar chuckled, shaking his head.

"I've spent maybe too much time around christians to understand many things, but I still believe your God is weak" he licked his lips "Compared to Odin and Thor, he's weak and demanding"

She ignored him, looking back at the books and parchments they were studying. Finally, Ivar stood up, making Edlynn raise her head as he walked over to the bed, and sat down to take his braces off. She watched as his fingers worked quickly on them, freeing his legs. When Ivar started taking his clothes, she stiffened, blushing again, and stood up to tidy the books and avoid looking at him. If she had looked, she would have seen Ivar's amused smile.

"The day and the night are also man and a woman" he continued, startling Edlynn. She turned to look at him, curious, but turned around when she realized he was shirtless "What? Are you also not allowed to look at me?"

"It's not proper" she muttered, looking down. During the nights she had been sharing his tent, she always slept with her back turned to him, and usually she would already be asleep when he went to bed.

"Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?"

Edlynn hesitated, but finally turned around. He was doing it to bother her, and wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing it was working. The sight left her breathless. Ivar was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, but not only his face was beautiful; he was strong, she had already noticed it when he grabbed her for the first time. Edlynn tried her best to avoid staring at his beautiful hair, collected in braids and tied that fell down his back and shoulder.

"Dagr is the day, and he's the son of Nótt, the night, Odin gave each of them a chariot that they can ride on the sky... And two horses, Skinfaxi and Hrímfaxi" his own finger pointed at his chest, which was crossed by dark lines. Those strange drawings on his skin were normal among the northmen; she had seen those on their arms, necks, faces... It was weird but she had to bite her tongue more than once to avoid asking about them.

Ivar had also another one on his back. Edlynn couldn't see much, but from the few glimpses she had caught, it looked like a snake. The ones he showed now had an intricate pattern, and she frowned softly while looking at them.

"They don't look like horses"

That made Ivar chuckle, but he didn't say anything else as she approached him, her eyes still fixed on his chest. When she was close enough, she raised her hand slowly.

"Can I?"

Ivar tensed, but finally nodded softly. Edlynn didn't know what to expect when her fingers touched the dark ink, but was somewhat surprised by the feeling of his skin. It was warm and his muscles tensed under her touch when her finger roamed around his chest following the lines. It was hypnotizing, and she couldn't feel anything else that wasn't Ivar.

She found his necklace. It was always hidden under his clothes, so it caught her attention. The question was written all over her face when she looked at his eyes again.

"Mjölnir" he answered quietly "Thor's hammer"

Edlynn nodded. She had heard about that, and thought it would be something like the cross that hang from her own neck.

Finally, she moved her hand backwards, almost like she just realized what she was doing and was suddenly too shy to keep touching him. Ivar's eyes were still fixed on Edlynn as she turned around, getting away from him faster than he would have liked, and soon she was laying on her side of the bed, with her back turned to him and her body tense and stiff, not bothering to cover herself.

______________________________

Edlynn was amazed by the shieldmaidens. She had heard about them more than once, since she was a kid, and sometimes imagined herself with a sword when she watched her brother, Edward, train with their father. But when she said it once, during dinner, everyone turned to look at her with widened eyes. Both her father and her sister reprimanded her; the battlefield is no place for women, you're needed at home, praying and taking care of the children.

Since then, the thought hadn't crossed her mind again.

She also saw the two viking women training when they were staying with King Alfred. They moved gracefully, and easily defeated male warriors, it was entertaining and interesting to see, and Mildrith and her would always sit and watch her, but always under the stern gaze of their fathers. Once, the blonde woman she had often seen with Bishop Heahmund offered them to try. Edlynn remembered the soft smile and how she approached them. She was sure her face lightened up, but as soon as she opened her mouth, Lord Eldred was behind her, he gripped her shoulder with maybe too much force. His daughter wouldn't go near a sword, he had said sternly. And the viking woman sighed, shooting her a sad smile before leaving.

But in that camp, even with her wrists tied and three northmen around her, she was free to watch as much as she wanted.

There was a group of many women, training with her swords, axes and shields. They fought fiercely, but laughing and hugging each other, and Edlynn was amazed. She barely blinked and didn't know how much time she had been there watching them. The women didn't seem to care, and she felt more at ease around them than around the men.

But when she turned her head, startled by some other sounds coming from her right, something else caught her attention. The first thing she saw was Hvitserk dodging a dagger as he trained with another viking. She knew that dagger, and soon her eyes fixed on Ivar, who was leant on a tree and smirked softly. He had a horn on his hand, and his eyes shone as they only did when he was around his brother. Next to him, Edlynn saw some arrows and a wooden bow, an axe and another sword.

He hadn't seen her, and she stayed silent and still, watching. He was relaxed, laughing and had a playful smirk on his lips. In some way, he was even more handsome. Soon, he got tired of just watching and grabbed the bow and arrows, tensing it slowly. His gaze was fixed on the tree in front of him, and Edlynn couldn't help but stare at him as his whole body tensed. She remembered when her brother learnt archery, when his arms were always shaking. Ivar didn't move a single muscle until he shoot the arrow.

"Don't miss, brother, you have an audience" Hvitserk's voice startled both Ivar and Edlynn, and when his eyes finally landed on her, his expression changed. She wasn't able to point exactly what changed, but Ivar barely looked at her.

"See something you like, princess?"

Edlynn felt her cheeks burn, and pressed her lips together when she heard the guards and some other men chuckling behind her, refusing to let them see her. Ivar also smirked, leaning to grab another arrow.

"I was just watching" she muttered. Ivar looked amused when he turned his head to look at her.

"Want to try?" he pointed at the tree. Edlynn hesitated, knowing that grabbing a bow and shooting arrows wasn't proper. But then again... There was no one there to scold her, right? And probably, if King Alfred reached an agreement with them, she wouldn't have to see any of them again.

She nodded softly, feeling a strange rush of excitement like the ones she used to feel when she was little and did something that was strictly forbidden. Ivar nodded at the guards and they let her go after untying her wrists.

"I don't think you have done this before, am I right?"

Edlynn narrowed her eyes at him and snatched the bow from his hands, making him laugh. It was heavier than she ever thought, and nearly let it fall to the ground. But she could already imagine how much the men would laugh if she dropped the bow.

"Turn around" Ivar ordered, and Edlynn obeyed slowly, still hesitating and nervous because of all those pairs of eyes fixed on her, studying her every move. She wasn't a warrior, but a noble lady that lived in a castle, so her movements were clumsy and not graceful at all.

She startled and nearly jumped when Ivar's hands touched her waist.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, widening her eyes.

"Don't you want to learn?" Ivar shrugged, an innocent tone on his voice that Edlynn didn't believe.

His strong hands moved her effortlessly, and she tried not to blush even more when she felt Ivar's body closer to hers. She could even feel his breathing behind her neck.

Ivar worked in silence, making sure she was on the right position before taking a new arrow. Edlynn frowned when she tensed the bow and her arms started shaking, even if Ivar was the one that practically held it behind her.

"Stop shaking" he scolded her, and Edlynn could hear some chuckles around her. Some of the shieldmaidens had stopped training and came to watch. The saxon girl making a fool of herself, how amusing.

Ivar's closeness, his scent and his body practically wrapped around her weren't helping. Edlynn felt her heart beating faster and faster as his fingers touched hers to position them around the arrow.

"Now" he muttered into her ear when he was finally satisfied "Loose"

Edlynn tried her best to point at the tree, but the arrow flew next to it and got lost into one of the bushes.

Everyone laughed. She could even hear Ivar chuckling next to her ear, and her cheeks reddened again. She glared at them and scoffed.

"It's fine, you'll get better if you practice" Ivar had a smile on his lips, but Edlynn couldn't say if he was mocking her or actually being nice.

One of the northmen said something loudly in their language, making everyone laugh even harder. Ivar sighed and shook his head, but had that small smirk on his face.

Narrowing her eyes, Edlynn reached for another arrow, making everyone stop laughing and look at her with an eyebrow raised. Ivar had an even bigger smile on his face when she turned to look at him.

"I want to try again"

_______________________________

Mildrith was furious. She couldn't understand why they kept discussing God knows what in that tent when Edlynn was held as a prisoner in the enemies' camp. It was true that she was more calmed now that the scout came back and assured she was well and unharmed. Mildrith always knew her friend would survive; Edlynn was strong and smart, but she also knew they could have hurt her in many ways. Especially Ivar the Boneless.

She almost shivered when she thought about him. Mildrith had always wanted to see Ivar at least once, to see if what they said was true, but to be captured by him? Her mind had replayed every single story she had heard about that heathen from the women of York.

Even that young viking she had had a quick affair with had talked about him; he was the most letal of the sons of Ragnar, a monster.

And King Alfred knew it! He had met him more than once, he had been fighting in York after the Great Heathen Army killed both his grandfathers. How he had allowed them to keep Edlynn for so long was a mystery to her.

Hilda kept praying, kneeled at the feet of what one day was Edlynn's bed with a cross between her hands. Mildrith didn't understand what praying would do, God didn't help her before and it seemed he wouldn't help her now. She was also angry at Him.

More than once, she had wished she could use a sword so she could enter the northmen's camp and free her.

"Mildrith" the nun sighed. She had dark circles under her eyes and her voice sounded weak. Hilda had barely slept or ate since Edlynn, the little girl she had raised almost as if she was her own, had been taken. She prayed day and night, hoping she would be well and no one would hurt her in any way "Please, stop pacing around the tent, sit here with me and let's pray"

"I don't want to pray" the young, raven-haired girl, clenched her fists, glaring at her "I want them to get out of that tent and go find Edlynn"

"They can't do that" Hilda sighed, her trembling hands rubbing her own face "The king is doing everything he can, Mildrith, and you know it, he appreciates Edlynn a lot, but they're asking for a high price, and he must think about the rest of the country too"

Mildrith scoffed. She hated it, she hated politics, war and negotiations. She couldn't understand it. They were in their own country! They were stronger! Why couldn't they just raise a bigger army to go and free her?

"We have do something"

"We can't" the nun shook her head "You know we can't, we can only have faith and hope she will be returned to us soon"

The young girl sighed, sitting down on the bed. She didn't want to have faith nor pray, she wanted her friend back. Her only comfort was to know that Edlynn would have many stories to tell, when she came back.

___________________________________

"They're asking for all of that, for a young woman?"

Alfred raised his head, narrowing his eyes at the man who just spoke.

"They're not asking anything, my lord, they demand all of this" he explained, slowly "And Edlynn isn't just a young woman, she is a dear friend, the daughter of one of my most trusted advisors and the sister to one of the men that I trust with my life every day"

"They want gold" Lord Eldred sighed. He was pale and had lost weight, Alfred hadn't seen him sleep nor eat for days "A lot of gold... And land, more land?" he sounded desperate.

"Yes, but separated from the land I gave to Björn and Ubbe Ragnarsson" the king rubbed his face "They also want a truce, some time to settle on our lands"

"That's the part that worries me" Lord Eldred shook his head "Why do they want time to settle? Do I have to choose between my daughter's death and a possible invasion?"

"We don't know if they plan an invasion, my lord" Alfred shrugged "For now, I am trying to save your daughter's life before anything else"

"She must be so scared" her father rubbed his eyes "All alone, surrounded by barbarians, God knows what they are doing to her"

"Our scout assured she was unharmed, Lord Eldred, I believe him" the king softened his tone "Ivar won't hurt her for as long as we don't anger him"

"I will pay as much as I can" Lord Edmund spoke for the first time since the reunion started "To ensure my lady's safe return"

Her father looked at her with a sad smile.

"Thank you, my lord" Alfred nodded "The messenger is out there, ready to leave for their camp to give them our reply"

"What do you say, my king?" Queen Elsewith put a hand on his shoulder. Alfred took her hand softly and sighed, looking down at the table. For days, he had been thinking about his decision, trying to find the best solution for all of them. If he agreed, there would be consequences, Ivar would know he had an advantage, many of his lords wouldn't agree with him. If he refused, Edlynn would suffer things worse than death before her head was sent to them, he was nearly sure of that.

Edlynn was a good girl. Responsible, obedient and polite. They had played together when they were children, and he couldn't stop thinking that it was Elsewith whom they wanted. Would they have so many doubts about saving her or not if it had been his queen?

He sighed.

"I say we agree" he nodded "And that we will meet them in the forest to give them what they want in exchange for Lady Edlynn"

____________________________________

Ivar's arms hurt. It had been a while since he practiced so much archery, and the muscles of his back and arms were already sore when he retired to the tent. His face also hurt from laughing so much, and he didn't remember when was the last time he had laughed so much, probably it was when he was still with Igor. He couldn't help but smile softly remembering the kid he had learnt to love as if he was his own son.

Before entering the tent, he could hear Edlynn whispering some words in English. He supposed she'd be reading, as she used to do since he let her read the books freely. He had to wait outside to force himself to stop smiling like an idiot before entering.

Edlynn raised her head and smiled softly when he entered the tent. In part, it was because of her he had had so much fun that day, he never guessed that teaching archery to a saxon girl could be that entertaining.

She was also tired. Her arms hurt and she only wanted to get into bed and sleep, but at the same time every time she closed her eyes, with her head leant on the soft pillows and inhaled Ivar's scent her mind went back to his hands around her waist, his breath on her neck and the soft whispers with which he had guided her. She even remembered the small smile she had seen on his face when she had finally managed to struck the tree and her cheeks would redden. Now, seeing him entering the tent leant onto his crutch with clouded eyes from drinking so much mead, laughing with his brother and even letting himself take a nap next to the fire, made her heart beat faster again.

"How are you, princess?" the playful tone made her nearly sigh in relief. He was still in a good mood.

"Tired" she muttered "But fine, it was... Interesting, to use a bow"

Ivar hummed softly, sitting down on the bed as Edlynn closed the huge book she had on the bed, leaning to leave it on the floor, next to the bed, she kneeled behind him and watching him as he fiddled with the braces. She bit her lip, not knowing what to say but wanting to keep talking to him.

"The men were quite impressed with you" he said, not looking at her "A shame we don't have time, I'm sure we could turn you into a fine shieldmaiden"

Edlynn tried to hide her excited smile.

"Really?"

This time Ivar turned around a bit. His amazing eyes fixed on her curving lips before landing on her eyes.

"Yes, I think you have potential, it would be though, we'd have to work a lot with those little arms and small hands, but we could do something" he shrugged "But we can't, you're too eager to go back to your castle, your husband and your dresses"

Her smiled faded slowly as he turned away once again. It was true she really wanted to see and hug Mildrith, Hilda, Edward and her father, but at the same time, she didn't want to say goodbye to Ivar.

At first, she had been scared, even tried to run thinking those heathens would torture and kill her, remembering all those stories she had heard about the ruthless Ivar the Boneless. But that playful, blue-eyed northman that she had seen giggling with his brother, telling stories about his Gods and who had guided her until she had finally succeeded with the bow didn't look like the monster they described on their stories. It was almost human; a human with his own beliefs and ambitions that wasn't so different from all those men she had met in England.

"Lord Edmund is not..."

"Not your husband yet, I know, princess" he chuckled "But he will be soon, right? Even if I would advise you to reconsider that marriage, taking in consideration that he didn't came to this camp to cut my head off for taking his woman"

Edlynn chuckled. She knew Lord Edmund couldn't really make that decision, besides, she didn't expect him to risk his life for a woman he just met.

"I can't reconsider anything, actually" she smiled sadly "It wasn't my decision"

Ivar raised his eyebrows, nodding slowly. Then he moved to take off his clothes, and Edlynn looked away with her cheeks flushed.

"If I was your father, then, I wouldn't give my daughter to a man that wouldn't die for her"

"I can't ask him that" she smiled, his words warmed her heart "He barely knows me"

"Wouldn't you prefer to marry someone you loved?" Ivar got rid of his shirt, and Edlynn couldn't help but take a look of the dark lines of his back, shaped like a snake.

"I..." she frowned "I will learn to love him, he's... He's good, a good man, he's nice and handsome and... I'm lucky that he chose me, I know many women that had to marry old men that didn't treat them well... Also, I don't know anyone who married for love" she chuckled. With time, she convinced herself that love was built, not found. All those tales Hilda had told her when she was little were fantasy.

"I married for love" Ivar muttered, almost like he didn't mean for Edlynn to hear "I did love the woman I married"

She felt as if someone had kicked her chest. Suddenly, she stopped looking at him and felt stupid for even feeling sad about the fact that he had a wife. Of course he had a wife.

Ivar groaned as he laid on the bed, covering his legs with the furs and closing his eyes as he relaxed against the pillows.

"I didn't know you were married"

Ivar opened his eyes, looking up with what she could describe as a heartbroken expression.

"I was" he muttered "Some time ago"

Edlynn tilted her head with curiosity.

"What happened to her?" she almost felt bad for asking, but Ivar didn't seem to mind.

"She died" his jaw clenched "She betrayed me and she died"

"And... how was she?"

"She was... Beautiful" he almost smiled, and Edlynn bit her lip, looking down "She looked like Freyja, she was blonde and had blue eyes"

The opposite of me, she thought, and immediately felt stupid for even thinking it.

"She sounds pretty" she smiled softly, hating that sad look on his eyes. Ivar then turned his head to look at her, and blinked slowly, almost like he was realizing something.

"I've only loved three women in my life" he shrugged "And one of them was my mother"

His face contorted again, almost like it pained him to think about her.

"And who was the other one?"

Ivar's lips curved on a smile.

"The mother of my child" he muttered "She was a princess, like you, but she was mysterious while you are not" he chuckled. Edlynn glared at him, but ignored his comment once again.

"I'm not a princess, though"

"Because you don't want to" he shrugged "You could be a princess, even a queen, if you wanted to, you are pretty enough to conquer a king"

"Me?" Edlynn giggled, blushing softly "No, I don't think so"

"You would be a good queen" he insisted "You're strong and smart, you respect people" Ivar nodded.

"I still need to find a king" she shrugged "Still pretty impossible"

"Lord Edmund could be your king" Ivar pronounced her betrothed's name mockingly, as always.

"No" Edlynn shook her head "He's handsome, brave and good, but he couldn't be my king, nor my prince, I'd have to find another"

The intensity of Ivar's gaze burned her skin. Edlynn looked away, and moved to lay down and rest her head on the pillows, sticking to her side of the bed as she always did.

"I never knew my mother" she muttered, changing the topic before the tension on the tent escalated too much "She died not long after I was born... She was from Ireland, from a place called Dubh Linn, have you heard about it?"

Ivar nodded slowly. His people had raided that place more than once.

"So she wasn't a saxon?"

Edlynn shook her head.

"Her father brought her here when his lands were taken from him, trying to procure a good future for her and marry her to a lord, my father asked for her hand... At least, that's what they always told me" she shrugged "Father always said I have her hair, and that I look like her... I think that's why he didn't want to raise me when she died, I think it was painful for him... But I can't complain, Hilda is great" Edlynn groaned and rubbed her eyes when she realized she was talking a lot "Please, forgive me, I talk too much"

"No, it's fine" Ivar shook his head with a soft voice, he had turned to look at her, and he felt like he was looking at a goddess. Maybe it was the mead, maybe the exhaustion, but he couldn't help but move a bit closer to her.

"My mother died too" he added "She was killed" he clenched his fists in rage "She always cared for me, she always protected me, even when my father wasn't there" he had a small, sad smile on his lips as he remembered the, sometimes suffocating, love his mother had showed him "And I miss her everyday"

Edlynn nodded. Even if she didn't remember her mother, she also missed her. And in some way she wished she could have had such a relationship with her, maybe she would have been able to explain to her what was that thing she felt, laying down on a northmen's bed and looking at him closely.

"You and I aren't so different, then" she pointed out, smiling softly. Was it her or they were closer now?

"I suppose we are not" the thought seemed to amuse him "Even if we worship different Gods and speak different languages"

When Ivar turned his head again, Edlynn was so close he could feel her quick breathing on his lips. It was nearly as intoxicating as the mead he had drank.

Ivar's hand reached to caress her hair, making Edlynn shudder and gasp, almost like she realized what she was doing.

"Is it not... Inappropriate to be so close to a heathen, princess?" he teased a bit, enjoying the way her cheeks turned red once again.

"At this point..." she sighed, barely able to think about anything that wasn't Ivar "I don't really care"

That made him laugh and his grip on her hair tightened. Edlynn wasn't lying, she couldn't think about God or anything that weren't his blue eyes and his lips parted. Without even thinking about it, she leant in while closing her eyes, and didn't stop until she felt his warm lips against hers.

Edlynn had never kissed anyone, unlike Mildrith and some of the girls at the court, that were stolen a kiss or two in the stables or in a hidden corner of the castle. She never looked at the boys, too occupied with her books, her prayers and other important things. But she could understand now what the priests meant when they talked about temptation. Ivar's lips were addictive, better than anything she had ever tasted, and ignited something inside her that she couldn't recognize.

The kiss was slow, passionate but also shy. They stopped kissing for a moment, but she had barely opened her eyes when Ivar's hand cupped her neck, his thumb caressing her cheek softly before he leant in again. And Edlynn had to put her hand on his warm chest to balance herself, moving her lips against his and leaning more and more into him, feeling like she would die if she wasn’t as close to him as possible.

When they finally broke the kiss, none of them opened their eyes. Ivar was panting, one hand secured against her neck, to keep her lips close to his, and the other one had landed on her waist when she had leant into him almost straddling his waist, and his heart was beating so fast it was almost scary. Her forehead leant into his and Ivar sighed. It had been a long time since he had felt that warmth inside him.

________________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @therealcalicali @blushingskywalker @gruffle1 @justacripple @heartbeats-wildly @letsrunawaytotomorrow @inforapound @sallydelys @hellogabysblog @winchesterwife27 @hecohansen31 @youbloodymadgenius @xinyourdreamsx @funmadnessandbadassvikings @tgrrose @lovessce @tootie-fruity @didiintheblog @alexhandersenx @belovedcherry @fantasydevil2002 @xceafh @astrape-the-weatherwitch @destynelseclipsa @momowhoo @mcrmarvelloki @nanahachikyuu @valopz @mrsalwayswrite @poisonous00 @whenimaunicorn @heavenly1927 @seeking-a-great--perhaps @nukyster-blog @alexhandersenblog @synnersaint @yummycastiel

#ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #vikings #ivar x ofc #vikings imagine #heathen

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blaxkrosethorn · 3 years

Text

A Rose With Thorns.

Haytham Kenway x OC.

Chapter 1. (Based off of ‘A Christmas Impersonation’ by @ragingbookdragon)

Summary: during a mission with Shay Cormac, French Assassin; Obedience L’Hona meets Grandmaster Haytham Kenway, but before anything happens she has to run.

Warnings: Language, sexual humor, mentions of violence and blood.

Rating: R. (For suggestive themes, Adult like scenes, mentions of loosing ones virginity, gore, smoking, and alcoholism.)

“This…is a bad idea, Shay.” She whimpered, grip on the Irish man’s overcoat deathly tight as she contemplates pulling him back towards the Morrigan. The man simply chuckled at the shorter woman’s antics.

“Relax, lass. We’ve got this, we always do.” He says as he leads her up the stairs. “Seriously, Shay. My nerves are a mess we’re going to fucking get caught.” She exclaims, chocolate brown hues wide with anticipation. “Obbi. Take a breather.” Shay coaxes and she rolls her eyes before doing as she’s told. Once she’s moderately calm, Shay gently guides her the rest of the way up the steps, and presents an invitation to the Red Coat standing guard outside of the mansion’s doors. He smiles at them, but the smile screams ‘I hate myself and I most definitely hate you.’

“Lord and Lady Shamus Williams?” He asked skeptically. “Yes, me and my wife have been traveling, this is our first gathering in about a month.” Shay says smoothly, and the Red Coat nods before smiling at Obedience and allowing the two to glide into the mansion and easily blend in.

As soon as they were out of the Red Coat’s earshot, both breathed sighs of relief. “That was close..” Shay muttered. “I thought you had it..” Obedience glowered. “Irish bastard..” she mutters. “Is this what upper-class parties are like?” Shay mutters.

She huffed. “This place is boring compared to Callaghan’s on a Friday night.”

Shay snorted. “Agreed. It seems the people who govern us little ones don’t know how to party.”

A servant walked passed holding a tray of Champaign. Shay grabbed two, handing one to Obedience. “For you, Lady Williams.”

She took the drink. “Thank you, Lord Williams.” Raising her glass to his, she warned, “Now remember, the whole point of tonight isn’t to get piss drunk. We’re here to—”

She narrowed her gaze as he started drinking. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

Shay eyed her. “I heard, ‘get piss drunk’, and decided to follow the instructions.”

“You’re a dipshit, Shay.” Obedience griped, taking a sip of her own. Her face scrunched up and she inconspicuously spat the champagne back into the glass. A shiver ran through her and she gagged. “Ugh.”

He chuckled. “It’s surprising that you don’t like that, considering the fact that you drink whiskey.”

She smacked her lips awkwardly, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. “Yeah, but whiskey actually tastes good.” Obedience glared into the shot. “In the wise words of your dearly departed father, this tastes like horse piss.”

At that, Shay had to fake a cough to cover up the bark of laughter. “He would be proud.” And then they lapsed back into silence as they strolled around the venue.

Eventually, they stopped by one of the giant windows, and Obedience took to scrutinizing the men at the party.

A nudge to her side, followed by a whisper caught her attention. “Lady Williams, you’re supposed to be a married woman. Are you searching for a lover?”

Obedience rolled her eyes and looked at him. “Well, someone has to satisfy a woman’s needs and you’re not.”

Shay actually seemed offended by that one, placing a hand to his chest. “That hurt.”

“You’ll live,” she retorted, eyes following the men until she landed on one talking to an older woman. He was handsome, strong facial features, broad shoulders, definitely fit under all those layers, and his eyes. Oh, his eyes were drop dead striking, like gunmetal. And she wanted to know them. Badly.

She tapped repeatedly on Shay’s arm. “That one, I want that one!” She whispers, and Shay directs his eye sight towards the man Obedience had taken a liking to.

“You mean the one that screams I’m a pretentious arsehole with a stick shoved up my arse, that one?” Shay inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah..” Obedience replied hazily, practically drooling at the sight of the dark haired man. Shay sighs at his best friend’s behavior. “I want to climb that man like the village tree..”

At that, Shay gagged. “Gross!”

“Are you kidding me, Shay?” she questioned, nodding at the man who’d begun to look around. “Look at his hands. And his thighs. And his really…firm…body. That is a man who knows what a woman wants and how to give it to her.”

“I’m really glad you’ve finally found someone to break your celibacy vow, but please, please, please, understand that I am not as interested in men as you are.”

Obedience whirled around to face him, humorous glint in her eyes as she challenged him. “From what I’ve seen in Portugal, your a damn liar.” She said, accent getting thicker with every word spoken.

Shay’s already pale white face got even paler, if even possible. “I thought we agreed not to speak of that again!?” Shay scowled, cheeks beginning to redden in embarrassment.

“No,” she begins. “You said never to speak of it again and I nodded.” Obedience says as if it were the most obvious thing. “Exactly, you agreed.” Shay growled lowly. “Shay, you should know by now that I have to give verbal words of agreement, not a small simple nod of my pretty little head.” Obedience smirks, and Shay moves to argue with her when they hear someone clear their throat. Both slap smiles onto their faces and face the person whom demanded their attention, only to find the man Obedience had been previously drooling over.

The man offered a smile. “Good evening.” He greeted.

“Good evening.” Obedience greeted back, Shay quickly following her lead.

“Haytham Kenway, pleased to meet you.” The man introduced himself, and Obedience felt like his steel gray eyes were boring into her brown ones.

“Shay-!” Obedience nudged Shay’s foot. “Shamus Williams, the pleasure is mine. This, is my wife;” Shay says, and Obedience introduces her alias. “Maya Williams, pleasure.” She says, placing her hand in Haytham’s as she expects him to shake it. She’s pleasantly surprised when he raises it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on her knuckle. “The pleasure is mine.” Haytham says, the undertone of a flirt filling his voice, though his eyes held a pinch of suspicion.

“I’m normally good at recognizing the regulars of a party, but I don’t believe I’ve ever met you two.” Haytham says. “What is it you two do?” He asks.

Shay quickly fills in the metaphorical gap. “We work for a business man, unfortunately he became sick so he gave the invitations to me and my wife to represent him and his wife.” He says, and Haytham quickly nods.

Shay rested his hand in the small of Obedience’s back. She nearly hurled.

“My drink is empty, I’ll be back. Until I get back, why don’t you and Mr. Kenway converse?” Shay asks, smiling at Obedience. She lets out an unladylike snort, raising an eyebrow. “Your glass is full, Shamus.” Obedience says, but Shay quickly downs his glass before handing it to Obedience and sending her a mischievous wink. “Now, it’s empty.” He says and although she grins she lets out a wheeze. “I hate you.” She says, he simply grins and disappears into the crowd. Obedience shakes her head exasperatedly.

Haytham laughs, taking both glasses from Obedience. “I wasn’t—” Obedience begins but Haytham cuts her off. “You didn’t like it anyways.” He says, and she blushes in embarrassment.

“You uh-..” she clears her throat. “You saw that..?” She mutters, looking down bashfully and trying to hide behind her dark black hair.

Haytham chuckles. “Only the ones who were paying attention noticed.” He says, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Paying attention to a married woman?” She teased, giving him a small smirk.

Haytham ignores her question with a small chuckle. “Dance with me?” He asked, holding out an arm. “Mr. Kenway, I really shouldn’t..” Obedience says, trying to keep her act up. “Your not married.” Haytham says, and Obedience feels a bullet of shock rush through her, and she hesitantly places her hand in his.

Haytham pulls Obedience into a dance, but she doesn’t get a chance to enjoy it, a few Redcoats spotting her and beginning to advance.

“That, would unfortunately be my queue to run.” Obedience says before running away from the ballroom, trying to find Shay so they could escape the building.

She checks room after room, finally finding Shay in a large room with a desk. A desk that Shay was perched on, a woman on top of him.

“Shay!” Obedience yells, startling him and the woman. “Hey! Who the hell do you think you are?!” The woman yells at Obedience. “His best friend and the one saving his life, now get lost bitch!” Obedience snarls and the woman quickly dressed before doing so.

Shay quickly dresses himself and they make their way towards the window. “I can’t jump in this damn dress!” Obedience yelps. “Then cut it off if you can’t undo the lacings, woman!” Shay says, opening the window. “I can’t reach my damn knife!” She yelps, and Shay rolls his eyes before dropping to his knees in front of her, and reaching his hand up her dress.

“Don’t you dare get any funny ideas, Cormac!” Obedience growls lowly. “Wouldn’t be the first time, lass.” Shay jokes, earning a smack to the back of his head. He’s just about to grasp the handle of her knife when the door to the room is thrown open, revealing Haytham.

“I swear to God this is not what it looks like..” Obedience swears, growling at a frozen in place Shay. “You sure?” Haytham asks amusedly. “Quite.” Obedience says. Shay gets the hint and backs away. “I almost had your knife, until stick-arse showed up.” Shay growled, approaching the window. “Here,” Haytham says, cutting the lace in the back of Obedience’s dress. The dress itself falls to her ankles, leaving her in her corset and a black and blue skirt that went to her knees.

Shay jumped and Obedience turned to Haytham. She grabbed him by the neck and tugged him down to her level, kissing him passionately. He just barely got to kiss back before she pulled away and climbed the window sill, winking at him. “Later, Haytham.”

And then, both her and Shay were gone.

#ac3 #haytham kenway #oc #shay patrick cormac

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idontblushsrry · 3 years

Text

Do You Know That I Do Love You

Chapter 1: Do You Still Think Of Me Fondly?

Next>

Word Count:

Warnings: Some swearing, smut in later chapters

A/N: This is purely self indulgent at this point. I will get my black nobility/courtly romance fic and it just so happens to be with Han Ju-Do from Yona of the Dawn (great show if you ask me I think everyone should watch it and that it deserves more but, whateverrr) I don’t know how many chapters this is going to have, I thought 2 but maybe I’ll do 3 or 4 it all depends on what I feel like is gonna complete the story the best. Reader is black, she has a Korean last name to match with the rest of the show characters. Spoilers ahead for parts of Yona Of The Dawn anime/manga

A/N Pt.2: This is based off of the concept of courtly love but w tweaks bcus I have like no ability to stick with angst permanently, like if asked nicely, I’ll do a happy ending (Also Reader and Ju-do are both single so). This fic is also based of this song if you want to get into the vibe.

You’d been told tales of the Crimson Dragon Castle just nothing could’ve compared to the majesty of seeing it in person. The gates opened and guards announced your arrival as your carriage pulled inside. You stared in awe at the sheer size of it while your attendants whispered something to each other that you didn’t quite pick up on.

“What was that?”

You turned and your attendants immediately went silent, squirming and failing to meet your gaze each time you tried to capture them in it.

“Nothing milady just the talk of lowly servants that you shouldn’t concern yourself with.”

You could tell though from the guilt in her tone and the way the other attendant looked as though you’d have her thrown out if you heard what she said that you knew they were discussing the reason you’d even come to the palace. You were much too old to be an unmarried woman and the constant rumours of your status ranged in believability, the most outrageous being that you were a succubus and having a husband would get in the way of your appetites.

When you’d heard it, that made you cackle because you were the furthest thing from a succubus.

It’s not like you felt ashamed of being a virgin, you were a grown woman after all, and it’s not as though you were the sole heir to your family’s name. You had plenty of siblings to carry on the family name. The issue lied in the fact that you were the oldest, your family tradition dictated that none shall marry before the oldest and as such you’d been on the receiving end of anger from your siblings, parents, potential suitors, and all in between.

When your father first proposed the idea of marriage to you, many of your siblings were still too young to care or remember. You could feel the concern coming from both of your parents as they urged you to meet with suitors from other clans and families. And you could feel their growing rage as you rejected one after another.

Now nearing two decades later, your siblings, the ones who were unconcerned with your marital status so long ago were now resentful of you. Many of them had approached you individually and together with their grievances, claiming you were holding the family back and restraining them from true love, all the things you’d heard before.

They’d brought those same complaints to father and he brought up the idea of a palace visit to you. No not in so few words nor with such direct intent but the message was there. He’d brought the idea up while you fed the fish in your private reserve.

‘I think that this place is too stifling of your abilities my dear. I’d like for you to go to the Crimson Dragon Palace in my stead, I’m getting rather old and the whole thing is nothing but a diplomatic affair anyways, I’m sure you can handle it.’ You were going to turn down his offer. Not consciously out of spite but because you knew what he wanted you to do. His words seemed like the ones of a trusting father but the undertone of ‘return with a fiancé or I’ll disown you’ rang clear as a bell through your head. You may have been stubborn but you weren’t a fool, your family had grown impatient with your antics and if this behavior continued, they’d send you packing without so much as a goodbye.

You’d contemplated that idea and thought up the pros and cons to being disowned. It wasn’t until you heard two maids whispering outside your room that night that you made your decision.

‘Poor Master Seong I heard that Lady (Y/N) is preventing him from meeting his heirs.’

‘Eh? What do you mean, how could she do that?’

‘She refuses to let any of her siblings get married and as the next clan head, any marriages from her siblings that occur before her own are forbidden.’

‘Wow! Really, then why won’t she just get married already?’

‘Who knows.’

By the following night you were in a carriage on your way to the castle. Coincidentally with the two maids that spoke ill of you that night. It seems that they still haven’t gained the ability to shut up even when it’s in their best interest.

The carriage pulled up to the guest exit and you didn’t have to wait long before the carriage was opened by one of the palace servants.

“Welcome Lady Seong”

You were rushed to yet another carriage that would take you to your quarters while your attendants followed someone else to the servants’ quarters. For the first time in the weeks it’d taken you to travel here, you could feel yourself begin to truly relax. The servant next to you was stiff with rigid and tense shoulders especially compared to your unladylike and unrefined composure. But, they were quiet. You weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and you didn’t particularly feel like talking to ease the tension in the carriage, so, you ignored it. Most of it was coming from the servant not knowing how to react to you anyways.

You closed your eyes to think of the last time you felt truly happy and all your defeated mind could conjure was an image of a chubby outstretched hand handing you a six-petaled flower.

“Milady? We’ve arrived at your quarters.”

You stepped out of the dark carriage into the courtyard of the place you’d be staying. Only to find that this courtyard was slightly nicer than you’d expected a standard nobles courtyard to be. There was an abundance of flowers, rocks lining the foliage. A bridge that spanned a small river that begun with a waterfall. Birds, a gazebo lined with jewels in the far corner, and the fragrant scent of jasmine flowers.

The servant, seemingly unfazed by the extravagance, urged you to follow her with a motion of her head. Her feet leading you through the courtyard with practiced expertise, you managed to keep up with her strides by clutching your dress up some and resisting the urge to gawk at every element passing you by.

She brought you to a spacious room similarly sized as the room you slept in back home. The room was relatively bare save for a large bed pressed against the wall in the center of the room, a wardrobe, vanity and an incense holder among other things.

She turned to you and bowed before turning to leave. “Before you leave, what’s your name?”, she froze as though she wasn’t expecting you to actually speak to her. She turned back to you with a close eyed smile.

“My name? It’s Ha-Neul”

You’d received the first and arguably the most difficult of your diplomatic duties when within 3 days of your stay, you were being summoned by King Suwon. While the letter came as a shock to you, you nearly had a heart attack when you learned you’d be meeting in the King’s personal tea gardens. You’d take it as a compliment, however, you were 1) essentially all alone with no one to back you up should you fail to be adept at conversation and 2) you’d only met the new king as a boy and in passing, you were somewhat underprepared and knew nothing more of him than what you’d heard in passing.

‘No. Don’t think like that (Y/N)’, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, your braids hung down, the tight coils of your hair wrapped up inside of them as they hung down from your scalp to frame your face. ‘You are more than capable, if it weren’t for your intelligence, you wouldn’t have made it this far. You can do this.’ You took a look at your outfit. It was unfit to meet the king. But before you could begin working yourself up into another nervous tizzy, Ha-neul knocked on your door, her consistent rapping against it breaking you out of your anxious reverie.

Ha-Neul was truly a miracle worker. She’d managed to make your previously tense body appear completely calm and put together with a few twists of her wrists and some careful thought into what she’d have you wear to meet with the king.

By the time the carriage had stopped, the anxiety in your gut had settled to a deep thrum that would remind you of its presence at the very center of your being but wouldn’t seize control of your body. This mercy provided by your anxiety allowed you to put one foot in front of the other like you’d done since you were a child, albeit with a more conscious effort.

You’re led by a flurry of servants and guards to where Suwon was sitting so tranquilly in his tea gardens. It was amazing how much he’d grown since you’d last seen him but those same features he had as a child seemed to have aged with his spirit. You didn’t know why but you got this deep guttural feeling that he’d done something akin to a betrayal of himself. It showed oh so subtly in the way he drank his tea with an air of practiced indifference that he tried to cover with a layer of oversaturated artificial happiness.

“Lady Seong, it’s good to see you. I hope your quarters are to your liking.”

Showtime.

You bowed respectfully to him before replying, “Yes, the room is lovely and even more so the courtyard. I’d love to speak with the person who designed it. How have you been your majesty?”

You’d hoped flattery would work with him, all your cues were being taken from him but it was near impossible to get a read on him. You kept your tone and demeanor light and cheery but eve still that was all he was giving you. It was like he was trying to gauge you at the same time.

Oh, you realized embarrassingly belatedly, this is a test.

The new king couldn’t afford any threats to his power and securing allyship while weeding out untrustworthy people was the most effective way for him to achieve that in lieu of starting a full-scale war.

But Kouka didn’t need that.

Since you were attending in your father’s stead, he’s likely assumed that you’re the new head of your clan, ‘If only he knew’.

Well, if it’s a test he wants then a test he’ll get. Two could play that game and you always were very good at mind games.

It feels as though it’s been about 30 minutes of you and King Suwon exchanging formalities, trying to see who’d crack. But finally, the tea and snack get delivered and you realize that for now, you’d reached a stalemate with the King. You could count it as a win but judging from the fact you still couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you mentally conceded to the standstill with him, and from the sigh he let out it seems he’s resigned himself to the same fate.

“Let’s eat then shall we.” he says good-naturedly, like the careful tension of your previous exchange never happened, so you nod in agreement. Waiting for him to take the first bite and sip before following suit. You close your eyes and simply enjoy the gentle floral taste and aroma of the tea. You take a moment of respite in the tea and neglect your surroundings for a moment.

You hear big clunky footsteps hurry their way down the hallway you and Suwon are staying in before, “My King, I apologize for my lateness, and while inexcusable, I hope that you can forgive me.”

You recognize that voice, you move to open your eyes at the same time the man stands up and before King Suwon can get his answer out, you interrupt him with “Ju...do?”

He looks down at you with a sneer looking ready to give you a tongue- lashing for interrupting the King and calling him out of his station. Before a look of recognition flashes in his eyes and he looks away hurriedly, calling your name with a formal “Lady Seong, I didn’t know you were at the castle."

Ok, ouch. Few things hurt worse than the person you’d spent an embarrassing amount of time fawning over as a teenager (and young adult) dismissing you with such a dismissive and cold formality.

You’d already fucked up by interrupting the King and you weren’t about to fuck up again by not responding to a General when directly addressed by one. “I didn’t know you were at the castle either, General.” If you were nothing more than a formality to him, then he’d be nothing more than a formality to you.

Yes you were aware of how petty and flimsy that logic was. He hadn’t seen you in years, of course he was going to be cordial with you. But the other part of you, the person who was heartbroken by the same man who stood in front of you right now, someone that you thought you buried long ago, hoped that calling him General hurt just as much as hearing him call you anything but (Y/N).

#yona of the dawn imagines #black reader #x black reader #han judo #han judo yona of the dawn #akatsuki no yona #general judo x reader #han judo x reader #yona of the dawn x reader #general judo #general han judo #pls lmk if yall like this #or if you watch yotd #there isnt a really big fandom for it and i am searching pls #idontblushsrry #x reader #anime imagines #imagines #smut

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lavendertwilight89 · 4 years

Text

InuxKag Week 2020 Day 2 Loyalty

Monsters--Rated E

Smut is at the end! NSFW

Also posted here

I used a prompt from an ask from anon : “I’m not a monster”

@inukag-week @superpixie42 @lemonlushff @dangerouspompadour @keichanz @cstormsinukagblog @willowandfog @inuyashaloverforever @xfangheartx @clearwillow @umacaking @procellaxletalis @smmahamazing @murdergiraffe @faulkner-blog @sapphirestarxx@swaggingtomboy @sarah-writes-stories

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag wall!! :)

It had been a couple of weeks since Kagome had returned to the Feudal Era. After her reunion with her friends, she immediately had begun training to become the high priestess of the village. Kaede had been growing older and it was time for someone to take over. Kagome had kept her powers intact in the future and had even expanded on them so when she did return, she wouldn’t slow anyone down.

Miroku was impressed by her determination and fierceness in training. She took the compliments with pride, a soft smile, and always replied, “I didn’t want to slow him down.”

The ‘him’ she referred to, hadn’t left her side for more than a handful of minutes since she had returned. It was like he was still reeling from her return. He had to make sure she was real. While Miroku had been sure nothing intimate had occurred between the pair, he was sure it was only a matter of time. Kagome hadn’t been staying with him and Sango, nor Kaede and Rin. Miroku knew Inuyasha had built a hut just outside the village and likely, that was where Kagome spent her nights. He and his wife could only hope they were finally acknowledging the feelings they had for each other.

Miroku had gone in search of the half-demon that morning because he had received word from a traveler there was trouble a couple villages over. What he came to find, he had been regretful to interrupt. They were sitting in the middle of the clearing, Kagome’s basket of herbs by her knees. She was blushing beautifully and her lovely brown eyes were mesmerized by Inuyasha’s face. He had his hand cupping her cheek lightly, like he was nervous. Gods why did Miroku have to interrupt them??

“…what do you mean?” Miroku heard her ask softly.

“Kagome I—” Inuyasha started to growl and looked harshly at him.

“Sorry my friends, I did not mean to interrupt. I come with unfortunate news.”

Inuyasha dropped his hand from Kagome’s face and she turned away slightly embarrassed by Miroku catching them. In what, the monk had no idea. But, Miroku smiled kindly and reeled in alllllllllll of his internal banter he wanted to use to tease them but knew now was not the time or place. Sango and he wanted their relationship to blossom and taunting them would likely only set them back.

“Spit it out, monk,” Inuyasha said warningly.

“There is a demon a couple of towns over; they sent a villager to request our aid.”

“I’ll go!” Kagome said hurriedly causing both of them to look at her. “I-I mean, Miroku—you have three little babies now! I’m sure Sango would love the help with how fresh Hiroshi is. I know Suzuki and Keiko have been giving her a hard time recently.”

“If you truly don’t mind, that would be wonderful Kagome. Thank you, I will inform the Lady Kaede of your leave,” he smirked at Inuyasha and winked making said hanyou blush and mumble obscenities as Miroku made his way back to the village.

Finally.

Kagome was nervous to say the least—at least that’s what her scent told him. Their conversation had been cut off pretty abruptly and she likely didn’t realize what he was going to say; but it should have been obvious. At least it was obvious to that stupid monk. Or maybe she did know and was just anxious about where the conversation would have led them...

When Kagome returned from her era, it took everything Inuyasha had to not spew out his crazy emotions of wanting to mate with her and telling her she belonged with him. While he knew she could no longer return through the well and said she had wanted to be by his side, they hadn’t come right out with their feelings.

He knew how Kagome felt though; she had admitted it a couple times when they were on their journey together. He missed the signs originally, also tried to act like he just never heard her say anything of the sort… she would have never chosen to stay with him. Never would have picked him over her family or even a human male suitor. When the well took her from him, he thought that was the end. She was safe, and the choice was ultimately made for them. He could die at peace knowing she was safe and happy with her family.

But then she came back; thirty-six of the longest moon cycles he had ever had to live through had been worth the wait. Her scent flooded his senses when he lifted her from the well. Her beauty had grown--she was no longer a girl, she was a woman. It took all he had to not fuck her right then. Throw her to her knees and rut her in the middle of the forest making her beg and scream his name into oblivion.

Thank God he was half-human. That part of him kept his body under control.

After she caught up with Miroku, Sango, their brats, the runt, the old hag, and the other pipsqueak, she finally asked for a moment of his time. They walked through the forest together quietly, but in contentment.

When they reached the Sacred Tree, he scooped her up and jumped high into the branches. He sat her next to him and gave her his haori, so that she wouldn’t catch a cold. There was no ‘going back to her time’ she said. The well had opened and gave her one last trip… and the fool chose to come back. He couldn’t allow her to get sick then.

He never questioned why she chose to return--he couldn’t bring himself to. Maybe he was the fool. Then again, he was just being careful. They had been apart for three years, while things had certainly not changed for him, her feelings for him could have. She could have just returned to be with her friends. He knew that she had mentioned she just didn’t feel as close to the three girls in her era--that Sango was a much better friend than any of them.

That night, they just talked. They talked until she cuddled up next to him and fell asleep on his shoulder to which he stayed still, leaning slightly into her, taking her into his hold as much as he could. Still reeling that she was, indeed, back.

The weeks that had followed, he stayed by her side. Tested the waters. Touching her softly whether it was holding her hand, grazing her cheek with his hand, or even lightly kissing her forehead at night, providing meals for her, spending as much time as he could with her, and he even showed her his hut the villagers built for him. After a couple days of tree hopping, he offered to let her sleep on his unused futon, saying that if she wanted to stay over, he wasn’t opposed to it. She had released that sweet melodic giggle and accepted as long as he wasn’t being put out. He had never actually laid down on the futon though--he couldn’t bring himself to knowing he would have been alone… there would have been no Kagome. But, because she returned, he didn’t want to jump into things. He wanted to court her the demon way and the human way. It seemed only right.

Just that morning he had brought her flowers and she happily and eagerly accepted them. The old hag had asked her to pick a special herb that grew out in the middle of his forest and commented that he should follow her… what a conniving intrusive old bat.

They had just gotten to the clearing and he just couldn’t stop looking at Kagome. She was just so beautiful--even covered in the modest miko garbs, she was the most enticing woman he had ever seen. Kikyo had been a regal woman. Very proper, polite, and in a way, elegant. She was a very fine looking woman but paled in comparison to Kagome. Kagome was far more natural in the way that she moved and looked. Something earthly about her… He remembered how that dumbass Akitoki had compared her to a celestial maiden. While they were beings from the heavens, Kagome definitely fit the description. Kind hearted, accepting, taunting almost to every man around her with her open demeanor. But she was far from fake. If you pissed her off, she blew her top. He loved that fiery spirit of hers. Everything about her called his name. Everything about her screamed ‘mate’.

When they reached the village, he could tell it was going to be one of those visits. Immediately they were met with skepticism. He overheard the whispers of the people:

“I thought we sent for a monk.”

“Is that thing her pet?”

“Why is there a woman here rather than a man!”

“The monk must’ve sent them instead on accident.”

“Look, it has a collar! She must be controlling the Inugami.”

He felt Kagome stiffen and he nudged her as softly as he could without the villagers noticing but it did not lessen the spicy smell of anger in her scent.

“Priestess,” a villager came forward bowing politely.

“Hello, we were told you had a problem with a demon?”

“Aye,” the man replied. “It comes at dusk. It has been taking a virgin away every evening and leaving her remains on the edge of the village, completely drained of her blood.”

“How horrible!” Kagome gasped. Inuyasha frowned and growled.

“I’m sure you overheard some of the… banter and gossip of the villagers. We expected the monk as well…”

“Don’t worry about the miscommunication; Inuyasha will protect me from any harm,” she smiled and looked at him lovingly. His growl diminished and he looked away slightly, blushing at the intimate look she was giving him.

“Your Inugami? We thought he belonged to the monk,” the village questioned.

“He doesn’t belong to anyone!” she yelled.

“My apologies, we saw the--”

“Forget it. Kagome, we should head out to the forest and try to track it so we aren't just ambushed here.”

“Right! We will be back before dusk, hopefully with good news!” Kagome said as Inuyasha knelt before her.

“Priestess! Wouldn’t you rather a horse??” the man asked as if he was uncomfortable with the idea of her riding on Inuyasha’s back.

“No, Inuyasha is faster than any horse and I trust him with my life. Bye now!” she said clippingly. With no further invitation needed, Inuyasha took off at full speed towards where the demon would leave the bodies of the young women.

“Inuyasha?�� Kagome said softly into his ears as he galloped towards the forest.

“What?”

“Are they always like that?” He could tell by her voice how broken she was by what had been insinuated.

“Don’t worry about it. No; they aren’t. This town just seems worse than others,” he placated stroking her thigh reassuringly. Then realized what kind of action it was and turned as red as his clothing.

She giggled as his embarrassment and rubbed his ears whispering, “We still have our talk to finish after this, dog-boy.”

“O-oh yea,” he said. Where had that confidence he had earlier gone? Oh, probably out the door when the villagers chastised not only him, but their relationship.

He stopped suddenly realizing he wasn’t catching a trail of anything. He set her down and got down on all fours and sniffed in every direction he could.

“Inuyasha?”

“There’s no trail. Nothing. Not even the scent of blood,” he added as he stood back up to full height looking around the forest’s edge.

“Would that mean the demon is flying?”

“He’d likely still leave somewhat of a trail of blood.”

“Hmmm… I’ll place some wards on the trees and on the villager’s huts if they’ll let me. Hopefully we can trap it before it takes another girl.”

“Kagome, I want you to listen to me,” he said grabbing her arms to make her focus on his face; her face changed to surprise due to his intensity. “You need to stay close to me. I’m not letting that thing get you. Don’t try to lure it or call it.”

She blushed under his secruitiny. Inuyasha smirked at her and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Your scent tells me everything.”

She swallowed and slapped his chest, “St-Stupid. Keep your nose to yourself!”

“Is that what you want?” he asked seriously, trying to keep his voice even.

She blushed again and looked into his eyes with what he would describe as longing… Gods, he wished he could just--before he thought the better of it, he leaned down and kissed her cheek making her gasp. He straightened before she could react and threw her back on his back and took off back towards the village.

Her scent really did tell him everything--and he planned on rubbing in her face how such a chaste kiss got her all hot and bothered later.

After their explanation to the headman, she was allowed to place wards and sutras along the tree line and the huts. The sun was just beginning to set in the sky as she made her way back to where Inuyasha was standing at the village's edge. She had pulled her bow into her hand and was waiting for any surge of demonic aura to erupt.

“Scared?” Inuyasha asked.

“Nervous. I just hope my sutras and wards hold up.”

“You’re strong Kagome. I know they will; I was more asking about how you felt about your own safety,” he said turning to face her.

“I’m safest with you Inuyasha. I’m not afraid,” she said smiling lightly brushing her free hand against his own.

He studied her a moment--would now be the time? They were alone, afterall. What if--

His thoughts were immediately cut off when he saw something out of the corner of his eye shoot towards them. He grabbed Kagome and jumped quickly off the ground and landed on the nearest hut to them. They turned to see what had made its way towards her in such haste.

It was a very skinny demon; he was pale, light of his feet, elongated fangs, long claws, lanky--it reminded him of something Kagome had made him watch back in her time. A... vamp-bat? No, a bat-pire? No… What the fuck was that thing called that sucked blood?

“It looks like a vampire…” she whispered in awe.

That! Vampire! What a stupid name. But she was right. It was sniffing the air, his eyes were clouded over.

“Yo! Get the fuck outta the village before I kick your skinny ass out of it!” Inuyasha warned.

“Food is plenty here, half-demon. Why should I leave?”

“I just gave you a reason, asshole!”

“You would never be able to catch me, young one. Tell me, why is your bitch unmated?”

“‘Bitch’?!?! I’m not his bitch!! I’m--”

“You smell just like him. But you are unmarked. You are unmated. You are dinner,” the demon sneered as his eyes glowed an eerie blue.

“Over my dead body, bastard,” Inuyasha growled in warning. He kept a hand on Kagome’s hip to keep her closely pressed behind him as he began to unsheathe his sword. It was unreal how fast the demon moved. One minute he was on the ground sniffing the air like a demented rabid dog, the next he was behind him ripping Kagome from his grip.

“INUYASHA!” she screamed.

“KAGOME!” he swung around trying to grab her but she was no longer in view. He began to panic and tried to sniff her out. “KAGOME!!!”

“AUGHHH!!” he heard the demon’s cry not far to his left heading towards the center of the village. He raced there with speed he didn’t even know he possessed.

“KAGOMEEEEE!” Inuyasha called and saw her laying in the middle of the street clutching her arm in pain trying to crawl away from the demon. He could smell that she burnt the fuck outta him with her power. The fact he made it this far before she finally blasted him told him this bastard was ten times faster than Koga ever had been with the Shikon shards.

“Inuyasha!” she cried looking to him and gasped seeing him. What had her freaked out??

“MOVE!” he yelled forcefully seeing the demon had gotten up and was pulling her leg to drag her back under him, his mouth opening to bite her. Drain her like the other village girls. Over. His. Dead. Body. He felt his body grow hotter and hotter. It was moving on it’s own as his vision blurred into a blood red and he no longer held a conscious thought.

Kagome had blasted the hell out of the weird vampire being and they landed hard on the ground. She knew she broke her arm and possibly a rib or two. As she tried to move her legs, she felt a searing stabbing pain like she had been cut.

Hearing Inuyasha’s cry she turned to him breathing a sigh of relief. He had heard the demon cry out--she was shocked to see he had somehow reverted to his demon state. He was even holding the Tessaiga. What had made him lose such control??

Before she knew it, she heard him roar for her to move. Unfortunately for her, that was not actually possible. She felt the demon pull on her and she cried out in not only disgust and fear, but in pain. She was quickly removed from his clutches though from a very full and transformed Inuyasha.

The other demon’s hand had been cut clear off and Inuyasha was holding her tightly to him snarling as loudly as he likely could in that state. She clutched onto his haori knowing he wouldn’t hurt her. Deep down, she knew he recognized exactly who she was--the woman who loved him. The woman he loved in return.

While they hadn’t actually discussed their feelings, she knew from the way he was courting her where things were headed. She had jumped into the past after three years and initially foolishly thought that things would pick up where they left off. She was glad clearly Inuyasha had more sense than she did for once.

Not that she thought her love for the half-demon diminished in their time apart or that she would fall out of love with him, but him courting her like a regular maiden really put things in perspective for her. She loved him. Fiercely. Loyally. Truly. Fully. He literally engulfed her heart. There was no space for any other man who stupidly tried to make their move on her. Not that Inuyasha hadn’t already run off the other men, but the few who tried anything while he was aiding the fields or if she happened to find herself alone with Sango while Inuyasha and Miroku were alone in the hut, she turned them down. Hard. She wanted to make sure they all knew exactly where her heart lied.

She heard Inuyasha snicker as the demon rose, scowling and making half-minded threats. Something about his dinner being interrupted. She didn’t know exactly what was being thrown around; her pain was swallowing her mind. She tried to focus on the words being exchanged.

“...that’s my dinner you’re holding.”

“My mate is not your dinner.”

“She is unmated--she is fair game.”

“It’s your death.”

“Is that a threat half-breed?”

“It’s a promise,” Inuyasha cackled after making his threat known. With fluid like movement he held onto Kagome tightly as he went on the offensive. She gathered he had learned he could not let her down as even with just a hand on her hip holding her to him was not enough to keep the demon from striking at her.

She closed her eyes as she felt herself being swung and jarred like a rag doll while Inuyasha attacked the demon. She heard the demon’s cries of pain but he didn’t seem to back down for whatever reason. She finally peered out of her squinted eyes and at last recognized why the blood-sucker was still able to carry on--the body was just an animation. It was similar to the golems Naraku had used. She quickly closed her eyes and tried to pinpoint where the controller was.

She finally saw he was just beyond the forest--because he wasn’t able to enter. She quickly looked up to see Inuyasha’s smirking face as he continued to pursue the demon.

“Yash! The forest!” He turned his face to see her. The recognition was still there but there was slight confusion. “He’s like a puppet! An apparition! It’s not his real form! He’s hiding in the forest!”

He growled menacingly, which she took as he understood what she was saying but was in fact, not happy to hear that as in his state, he would not be able to enter the forest. Even though he was in a state where his baser animal instincts were more in control, he knew he would have to release her.

He lightly put her down but stayed right by her letting the demon come to him. She knew with his heightened senses, he wouldn’t allow failure twice. She grabbed her bow and knelt to keep herself stable, holding it sideways due to her injuries and notched an arrow. Drawing back hastily before allowing the pain to set in she fired with a silent prayer to her bow.

Her arrow disappeared into the tree line and only a loud cry from within the forest was heard as the demon went up in flames. Whatever was in the forest had been rightfully purified.

She relaxed and dropped her bow sighing in relief only to be shocked when she felt arms wrap around her and hoist her back up.

“Inu--”

“My other half made the mistake of not marking you. I will not allow the same error to occur again,” he rumbled shifting her hair away from her neck. She gasped as she felt his teeth brush over the nap of her neck. When he bit down hard onto the left side of her neck, she cried out and felt the strangest sense of being ‘full’ and unwittingly orgasmed releasing all her pent up tension . It was such a strange and powerful sensation that he had filled without actually making love to her-- she had orgasmed before pleasuring herself and had never thought that a bite would be able to cause the same stimulus as her fingers had. She felt her body and spirit melding and weaving with his aura and soul. She breathed deeply, shocked from the overwhelming sensations that were flowing into her from him. Before she was overtaken by unconsciousness, she heard cries from the villagers and Inuyasha’s snarls of anger.

When Kagome woke, she was lying inside a hut. She was hot, uncomfortably so, and felt like she was breathing heavily. She saw two monks praying over her and it made her confused. She sat up slowly which made them drop out of their trance.

“Priestess, how are you feeling?” one of the monks asked.

“Fine… oddly enough,” she realized she wasn’t in pain--her ribs no longer hurt, her leg had not stung as she moved it--what was going on?

“Priestess, the demon… He has marked you. We are trying to correct it.”

“What do you mean?” she asked hesitantly.

“The demon bit down upon you, claiming you as his female. We are trying to reverse the claim. We were able to pull him off of you before the mating occurred.”

“You are a very powerful priestess, you may be able to reject the claim itself.”

“Where… Where’s Inuyasha?” she asked worriedly.

“The dog demon? He was banished outside of the village. Your sutras shocked him when he was cast out and he has not returned. We can only pray to Buddha that he was purified.”

Kagome began to panic and quickly rose to her feet and collected her things.

“Priestess! You shouldn’t move yet! You need to rest!”

“No! I’m leaving! I have to find Inuyasha!”

“Priestess! You have been bewitched!”

“Whatever! I don’t care what you think! Inuyasha is my mate!”

“Komori, hold her down, she is speaking nonsense,” the elder of the two monks instructed. The one known as Komori came at her and she whacked him hard with her bow. She glared at the other monk.

“I’m leaving with or without your permission…” she warned.

“Priestess! Please you must see the light! Your powers cannot be compromised by mating with a demon!”

“Our love is pure! My heart is pure. My power does not come from purity of body, but purity of mind and soul. I did not return from my home to be kept from the man I love and want to marry! If I did or do end up losing my powers, so be it! But you will move!” she said as her power flared as if proving a point.

The monk bowed and shook from fear of her. Good, she thought.

She quickly ran and dissolved the wards on the huts and the trees and was able to immediately pick up Inuyasha’s signature aura. She dashed quickly to find him, praying to any God that would listen that he was alright and didn’t hate himself for what occurred.

She found him not far from the village--likely he had been waiting for her to wake up. He didn’t move towards her. He just sat there. Brokenly.

She dropped her bow and embraced him from behind. He still didn’t move an inch.

“Inu--”

“I’m sorry…”

“There is nothing to apologize for,” she said nuzzling against his cheek.

“I--I marked you… Without your permission or consent… I--”

“No! Inuyasha, I would have stopped you if I truly didn’t want it. Please--don’t listen to the villagers.”

“Kagome…”

“Please! Believe me! I know you were courting me and taking things slow--but please, I need you to believe that. I wanted this, Yash. I came back to be with you.”

“...” he trembled beneath her and his eyes were completely covered by his bangs.

“I love you, Inuyasha. Please,” she begged him to speak to her. Look at her. Anything!

“Why? Why are you staying with me? How can you be so loyal to me?”

“You earned my loyalty, Inuyasha. How can you even ask that?”

“I’m… not a monster?”

She released him abruptly and swung herself around to cup his cheeks and made him look her in the eyes. She saw the smallest trace of tears that had welled up in his eyes. “You are not a monster, they are for what they did to you--for how they made you feel.”

“But, your powers--”

“--Are intact. They are from my pure soul and mind, not my body,” she said as she blushed seating herself on his lap. He finally looked into her eyes and his hands hesitantly went to her hips. She sucked in her breath from the sensation and remembered how oddly warm and flustered she was when she had awoken.

“You feel it too--the pull,” he explained. He looked like he was holding back from something. But they had made it that far, she wasn’t about to let him be fearful. She knew she needed to prove her fierce loyalty to him--her undying love. She inched her way closer for their mouths to meet, waiting for him to push her away. He had inadvertently told her she was his mate--not once, but twice. She knew where their conversation had been headed earlier that afternoon and knew he was going to ask her something about their relationship. He likely hadn’t meant to get this far, but she didn’t care. The only care she had was a swimmingly drunken haze that filled her body and it called out for Inuyasha.

She kissed him lightly at first, seeking permission, granting forgiveness for what took place while his demonic half ran loose, proving her choice had already been made and there was no going back. Once she felt him kiss her back, the slight bit of pressure, she sighed in relief and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Kagome,” he said in their broken kisses--the heat and need rising between them. She was sure the mating mark had only intensified her feelings and needs but she didn’t want to fight it. She never felt so at home or at peace than in his lap, their lips brushing against each other.

The original soft and tentative kiss transformed into heated confident stokes of their lips. She grew bold enough to swipe her tongue into his mouth, earning a muffled groan that made her smirk inwardly. She brushed her tongue against his fangs and made herself shiver. Imagining those canines caressing and nipping across her body only brought her further desire.

He shocked her when he shifted her so that she was lying down on the ground and he was hovering over her. Pulling away, he smiled down at her. She was panting and he was barely out of breath. Jerk.

“We can go slow--I know the mark is driving this somewhat--I’m not doubting you wanted this. But we can go slow,” Inuyasha said as he kissed her cheek slowly trailing down her jaw to her neck. Yeah. Like she wanted to slow down.

“Please don’t stop,” she whispered. She honestly didn’t care if she begged at that point. She needed him. Mind, body, soul. All of him. Sure, it had been his demon half that marked her, but it was his true combined self who had been lovingly patient and pursued her the demon and human way. The flowers, the meat, the roof over head--she considered herself fully courted and if they had finished their conversation, him asking for her hand, she would have likely jumped his bones then!

Hearing him chuckle, she helped him as they removed their clothing in haste. While some would say it was rushed, no one knew the burning desire that she felt for him after all those years beneath the surface. She was ready--far more than ready for him. His body. His heart. Everything.

He lifted her briefly to have her lay upon his haori, and then smoothed the hair from her face. “It’s not too late if you want to slow down--I’ve waited centuries for this. I can wait longer,” he admitted as he tenderly kissed her temple.

“I feel like I've waited centuries,” she giggled, reaching up to caress his cheek and his ears. “I want this. I want us. If you’re not--”

“Oh fuck Kagome, I’m ready,” he said as he dropped his hips for her to feel exactly how ready he was. She tried to stifle a moan, but failed. Gods did she want to taste that. “I just know humans typically… well… marry first.”

“I’m going to be the wife and mate of a half-demon. I guess I’m a marked mate now for a demon--” she said as she slid her hands down his body, growing confident as she felt him twitch beneath her ministrations. “It only seems right we finish the demon way first.”

“Al-alright,” he agreed as she stroked his hardened length with her delicate little hand.

He bent his head and relocked their lips; passion flowed through them. Unspoken words of love, trust, loyalty, and lust passed through the heated dance of their tongues, the gentle caresses against their bodies.

Kagome didn’t want to ask about his history--she honestly didn’t want to know and even then, it wasn’t her business. It was in the past. He obviously knew hers. Stupid dog noses. But, he seemed like he knew exactly what he was doing so she couldn’t complain. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t. She refused to ruin this hot and sensual moment.

She gasped and cried out when his hands started to tease and touch her more intimate area. His head dipped down and laved her shoulder, across her mark making her keen and writhe beneath him. His fangs nibbled and his lips sucked on her breasts while he continued his tender touch around her core. She honestly thought she would die. Every touch, growl, press of his body against hers had her melting further and further. She swore she needed him like air. She had to drink him like water. He was everything and more.

His body shifted and he moved further down hers, licking, biting, suckling a path to where the tension was the highest. Swallowing back her embarrassment, she spread her legs open to allow him to rest between them. She gently stroked his ears, for comfort, but also because she loved the feel of them between her fingers. She hadn’t expected a rumble to emerge and when his mouth engulfed her core, her hips jolted up of their own accord and his name fell brokenly from her lips. Thankfully, he used one of his arms to keep her body from flailing out of control as he continued his prowess to bring her to orgasm. His tongue was not only talented in her mouth, but it hit, stroked, fondled, and pushed every nerve that made her beg for more. When his fangs grazed her sensitive nub, she swore and wailed uncontrollably, begging, demanding more. Finally as his lips locked on her overly stimulated clit, she came with a crashing force. She wasn’t sure what sounds actually came flowing out of her, but she was fairly positive it was some form of his name.

He had chuckled and slowly crawled his body back over hers. His cocky smirk made her scoff and he laughed more.

“I don’t even want to know how you’re so good at that,” she muttered aloud in annoyance.

“Guess you just bring it out of me,” he said as he caught her turned chin and pressed a soft kiss on her lips.

She flushed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “You mean… you’ve never…?”

“Kagome, who would ever want a half-breed? I was too scared to try anything on my human nights not only because I’d have no way of knowing what the fuck I was doing, but because my secret would be exposed. Fuck, even then, I’m not that kind of man anyway. I could only hope my mother raised me better than what you’re insinuating,” he scoffed.

“That wasn’t--I mean--I’m sorry! I hadn’t meant to say anything,” she trembled fearing she ruined their moment.

“Pft, I’m made of tougher stuff. If anything, you’re just reaffirming my demonic instincts are something I should keep close to the surface since they know exactly what they are doing,” he punctuated with a nip at her chin.

“Gods, yes,” she sighed as he moved his lips down her neck once again and laved her mark. She whined and began to pant, the fire that was barely doused had begun reigniting full force, demanding he give her more.

“You’re sure, Kagome? Once we mate, there’s no going back,” he asked as he lined himself up with her entrance.

“I came back to be with you… Forever.”

His lips slammed into hers as he pushed himself to be sheathed inside of her tight walls. She cringed and whimpered at the intrusion but tried to stay focused on his unyielding kisses he laid upon her to distract her from the intrusion. She never felt more complete than she did right then; wrapped in the arms of the man she loved, sharing intimate kisses and touches, him buried deep inside her, she was beyond happy. She finally was whole.

He pulled back and then pushed back forward slowly, as if testing to see if she was still in pain. She wrapped her legs around his hips and shifted her arms to grasp his biceps moaning in time with his thrusts. Clearly, he got the recognition he needed as his plunges grew deeper, harder, and best of all, faster.

She felt her hips moving on their own as she tried to meet him beat for beat. Wetter than she ever thought she could be, she should have been embarrassed, but if anything, she was just that much more aroused. Feeling the rising tension as her coil in her belly began to tighten again, she cried out an unintelligible cry. She hoped maybe he would understand what she needed as she arched her back trying to angle herself to try and figure out what she was missing. She ached for that release again. He must’ve figured out her desperation as he leaned over and took a taunt nipple to his mouth and readjusted his hands so one still clutched hard onto her hips while the other went made its way to where they were joined.

Crying out when the sensations were too much, she felt herself crack and break. Her walls clenched tightly around his hardened cock as she orgasmed--the most powerful one she ever had in her life. Over her, she felt him stiffen as he roared out his own completion. She felt him fill her with his seed and it dawned on her that they likely should have thought this act through a little more than they originally had.... But it was alright. She trusted him and even if she found herself pregnant with his child, she would remain loyal to him.

Just as he would always be loyal to her.

#inu x kag #inuyasha x kagome #inuxkag week #day 2 loyalty

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

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The Unintended Savant (Hakuno, Gil Collective)

Caster was the first one.

He was working late, listening to him and Ozymandias laugh about women and men as lovers. The list was going on, not stopping at all when Caster would mention that he didn’t want to hear the list. The mage king listened until he couldn’t stand it a second longer.

So, naturally, they’d decided to tease him.

Hakuno had come in when Caster was finished yelling at them both.

“Hakuno, you are looking particularly ravishing tonight.”

Caster had turned that glare to Ozymandias as Hakuno had laughed nervously. His arms had grabbed the woman immediately.

“Leave her!” Ozy had yelled, earning an elbowing from Archer.

The Grand Caster hadn’t left his room the next day.

Archer frowned as Gudako asked around, earning shrugs and negation in regards to the king. With his room locked and sound proof, they weren’t even sure he was alive. Archer found himself passing by the door, trying to hear something. Gudako was asking Ereshkigal to check to make sure that the king hadn’t died again.

He appeared a half month later.

His hair was brushed, his face practically glowed. The man ignored all of them to grab something to eat and settle awkwardly into a seat.

Hakuno came a little while later.

She wore his turban, smiling to the man and being pulled onto his lap.

Archer looked to his other selves, exchanging frowns.

Saber Gilgamesh went next.

He had asked Caster why the fool looked thoroughly whipped. Whatever he’d heard, it’d had him running through the hall. The woman was seen over Saber’s shoulder, her clothing being torn as he ran through the hallways. The blushing face of the woman was seen only a moment before his door was locked.

Saber lasted two days.

Caster merely gave him a nod.

Lancer Gilgamesh laughed.

Lancer Gilgamesh was sitting with the other two a couple hours later.

Hakuno went to speak to Avenger Gil.

Avenger Gilgamesh vanished.

It was no doubt a joke.

Caster was fond of poor jokes. Since Enkidu and him were both prone to them, it was little surprise that the Caster had decided that enough was enough. Still, to do something so childish was unnecessary. Hakuno had been a virgin. She probably still was, since berserker him was leaning over her and making her shiver and smile softly to him.

Getting Saber in was surprising, but Lancer was not fond of him. Avenger would do anything so long as Hakuno was happy.

Yes, it was no doubt a prank. Pretend Hakuno was some kind of goddess in bed. Pass her amongst his other selves to make him upset.

A joke of poor taste, Archer thought to himself, watching Hakuno be pulled in by Saber and thoroughly kissed the daylights out of. She pulled away only to listen to him murmur softly to her.

Caster pulled her away from the man, earning a growl.

This had gone on long enough.

“Hakuno!”

Archer motioned the woman to himself.

She came, running along through the room quickly. A loyal subject to the very end, she was.

He pulled a candy from the gates, handing it off to her.

“Tonight, you’ll sleep in my room.”

“O-oh… Sleep or sleep sleep?”

He raised a brow.

“Sorry, it’s just- The others have been a bit…” She trailed off, her face pinkening further.

“Just because my other selves are using your body does not mean that I intend to as well. You are not a horse to be ridden into the ground.”

“Of course not, that sounds awful for a horse.”

He sent her a bemused look for that. She wasn’t funny.

Still, she was true to her word.

The night fell over Chaldea. His other selves dispersed with the rest of Chaldea, leaving him to head to his own chambers for the night. His woman came, draped in a simple nightgown and holding a spare blanket.

“You hog sheets,” she told him, climbing onto his bed.

“I do no such thing.”

She fluffed the pillow on her side of the bed, making a dismissive sound.

“I don’t.”

“Of course not.”

“Hakuno-“

“Good night, Gil.”

She leaned close, pressing those lips to his.

No, she didn’t press them.

The woman turned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. As soon as he was prepared to complain and annoy her, she was stealing his air, driving him back against the bed. Her hair gleamed in the low lights of his lamps. Her nightgown seemed to shimmer a little, drawing his hands to her waist.

He was kissing her back, he found. His harms were holding her close to him as she kissed him more and more. That tongue swept over his tongue, demanding and invading into his mouth as he found himself unable to stop the kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss of a timid and simple woman. She kissed to steal. She kissed as though she was finding something truly worthwhile.

He wasn’t sure how long he was holding her waist, but her hands seemed to find his. Those smooth hands of hers slipped his down, pulling at the hem of her gown and breaking their kiss to reveal her body to him.

He sucked in a breath at her chest bouncing. He could see the flush on her skin, showing signs that she was aroused.

“Hak-“

“Let me do this,” the temptress atop him purred. Her leg, smooth as could be, rubbed against his manhood. He couldn’t remember being harder. Her hands were ghosting up his chest, curling into his chest hair as she found his lips again and stole them.

He liked his chest touched, her hands holding him and her small sounds echoing in his ears. She seemed to know when to brush against him, just how to make him harder. The feeling of pressure was mounting. He reached for her, but somehow his hands kept ending up back on the bed, holding onto the sheets as he would look up at that face.

Had she always given him bedroom eyes like that?

They seemed to glimmer in the low light. Her lips seemed to demand and plead with him whenever they pulled away from his own. His head fell back against the pillows as her lips found his jawline and neck. She purred words that had him hearing a masculine moan of need.

“My king,” she purred.

He was her king. There was no one else in this place that could compare to him.

“My golden king,” she purred again, her hands trailing down his front.

Finally, she was going to touch him.

He wanted her hands to reach him, to touch and prove that she was simply a good kisser. He needed her to show him that new side of her was still growing. Things could be learned, but a practiced hand took years to develop. One could not be perfect.

Those hands avoided him, stroking at his thighs instead.

The curses were swallowed by her lips. His erection twitched and leaked between their bodies.

It wasn’t enough.

“H-Hakuno-“

“I really want to keep going,” she confessed, her hands almost too tender as she stroked at his inner thighs. “I don’t know why, but it makes me happy to see you like this. You make my whole body feel so warm, Gil… It makes me think about doing things…”

“O-Oh?”

A stutter escaped him. This was her fault. She was driving him to this point. The vixen, the temptress, the audacious-

“I think about putting this in my mouth,” she went on, a hand sending a shiver all the way up his spine as she lightly ran a finger up his hardened manhood. “I want to treat it like one of the candies that you give me and savor it as long as I can.”

There was nothing.

No thought, no words, no-

Hakuno’s head lowered, words dripping from her lips that had him closing his eyes and feeling his heart pound away against his chest. His own bloody heart was trying to tear through him to reach her now. Those sweet lips kissed the very tip of his manhood. The soft compliment only making him dig his feet into the mattress.

“You take so salty… I want to make it sweet.”

He didn’t move from that position. Archer stared at his canopy, listening and feeling. He felt the woman steal his pleasure, tear the sheer bliss from his body by sucking on him with that fiendish mouth of hers. He grew hard in a matter of minutes, finding her simply settling on kissing him again until he was hard.

The second time, the bed bounced with her body. She took him in, impaling herself with her lips still glistening from his earlier release. He could taste his own self on his lips, but all he could see was the woman before him. Her chest bounced with her riding him. Her hair shifted this way and that, seeming to caress the body that he longed to touch.

Every time he reached up, she would steal his hands, holding them to her chest and kissing at his knuckles.

Time blended into nothingness.

He felt darkness swallow him up only to spit him back out at her side. He would make the mistake of brushing her hair from her face or leaning against her body and then she would turn and things would begin again.

Gods knew, he began to pray.

How could he avoid it?

Her body was a temple and her lips brought forth more reverent words than he’d ever heard his voice utter. Her fingers laced with his, holding them on either side of his head.

He ate from her hand like a feral animal.

He devoured what food she placed upon her person, leaving herself as his platter.

Everything in the world melted away, leaving just her body and the pleasures that could be found there. She was the universe. She was life. She-

Gilgamesh opened his eyes, blinking lightly as he saw the light from the hallway.

“Do you have her, Caster?”

“Yes, I do.” Caster held Hakuno in his arms, having wrapped a blanket around her. “The whole room smells of debauchery. We’ll need to wash the fabrics several times and light some candles or something.”

“Where are you taking her?”

Archer attempted to move, but his body was tired.

The man raised a brow at him.

“Do you know how long you’ve been in here?”

“A couple days.”

“Try a month and a half. We were starting to doubt you were alive.”

“It’s been maybe three days. Put her down.”

The man pulled Hakuno further away, shaking his head.

“She will have her own room. Clearly Hakuno is a force of nature that none of us can fully handle.”

He reached for her, but he paused.

His body was lined in marks. Bitemarks and bruising littered his skin, accompanied with a slight smell that he hadn’t noticed before. Looking around his room, he could see torn fabrics and fouled sheets. There was an odor. There were a few old plates on the nightstand as well.

“…A month and a half?”

Caster nodded.

“Pur her down and leave.”

He wasn’t done indulging.

#drabble #drabbles

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mhevarujta · 5 years

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Camilla Macaulay is such a fascinating female character

Some readers have claimed that she is a badly written female character; one-dimensional, weak, barely there and overshadowed by the male characters even though she could have been developed more as the only girl in the group.

Others see her as a wicked, deceptive woman who uses her sexuality to pull strings and to manipulate the male characters.

The unreliable manner in which the book is narrated and Richard’s obsessive and biased view of Camilla that is rooted in denial even when he glimpses the darkest parts of her does not allow the reader to have a full picture of the character.

This elusiveness makes this young woman a fictional character that cannot be ignored. Who is Camilla Macaulay? My answer always changed. I have theories that contradict each other and that constantly reshape. Each time I think I’ve settled a conclusive interpretation seems to slip away from me. So in this post I wanted to focus on how I think of Camilla today.

Camilla was raised by women with horsed and rivers; an image really reminiscent to the Amazons who were placed on the Thermodon river, riding horses and hunting. Hunting connects them to Artemis/Diana, the worship of whom the Amazons were connected. Apollo, Diana’s twin brother was named Amazonius and Charles, the only man around, is described in several occasions in a way that brings in mind the depictions of Apollo. Moreover, Bunny parallels Camilla to Diana. Artemis/Diana was the product of rape and as a newborn she helped her mother give birth to her brother. She is the goddess of hunting among other things and one of her requests from Zeus was her eternal innocence and the maintenance of her virginal status. And she is an unforgiving goddess. In fact, Tartt’s idea for Camilla’s name came from Virgil’s Aeneid. Camilla was the daughter of King Metabus who promised his daughter to Diana –to be a virgin warrior in service of the goddess- in order to save her.

Tartt’s Camilla lost her virginal status. She lost her innocence. In fact she was manipulated and abused by the only male she grew up with. What I find interesting is the way she is introduced in Julian’s lecture, by reciting a passage that is memorable to her (at which point Henry winks at her):

Thus he died, and all the life struggled out of him;

and as he died he spattered me with the dark red

and violent-driven rain of bitter-savored blood

to make me glad, as gardens stand among the showers

of God in glory at the birthtime of the buds.

Camilla is undeniably tied to the image of Klytemnestra murdering Agamemnon. Another thing I’ve noticed is her deepest desire:

“And if beauty is terror,” said Julian, “then what is desire? We think we have many desires, but in fact we have only one. What is it?”

“To live,” said Camilla.

Unlike Bunny ‘s ‘to live forever’ Camilla’s answer can be interpreted as living in the sense of experiencing life freely and it makes sense in a way. She is a female character who has been trapped between all these male characters. She is formidable as any of them but she is being suffocated by Charles who is free to do as he pleases but does not allow her to have the life she chooses without getting out of control; who is passive-aggressive when he feels their ‘arrangement’ is threatened in any way. It is interesting how Bunny compares potentially being with Camilla to marrying Charles/a female version of him. It is a testament to how much his presence is affecting the façade that Camilla wears for the rest of the world. It’s also interesting that despite both of them growing up with women SHE is the one who’s dressed in a way that men do not relate to women.

The first lesson is also the first time that Richard glimpses the mind behind the lovely face:

I looked at Camilla, her face bright in the sun, and thought of that line from the Iliad I love so much, about Pallas Athene and the terrible eyes shining.

And these glimpses of a sharp and darker mind allow us to make more sense of her more intimate connection to Henry. After the aforementioned wink, a really significant moment is when Henry helps her after she has cut her artery. Henry is the one who takes action to help and Camilla is concerned that she’ll bleed all over him and that she’s too heavy for him. He doesn’t mind. When Charles appears he is the one who’s asked to take the glass out, to release her from the pain, but he just can’t do it. It’s Henry who takes action yet again and he recognized her bravery. To me, the entire situation foreshadows Camilla moving on from Charles to Henry and it established the reason she got attached to him –his ability to accept her for who she is with no judgment, to carry her, to let her bleed on him and to remove what hurts her even if that hurts her in some ways- which is something that Tartt never shows us directly.

Do I believe that Camilla and Henry conspired to kill Charles? I think I do. I think Charles’ death might have even been planned for the Bacchanalia and gone wrong or that at the very least that that was when the idea of his murder really took root. Let’s see some facts: All the participants are high. Henry is the one who murdered the farmer in the frenzy of that night and yet Camilla had SO much blood on her:

“I suppose we’ll never know what really happened,” he said. “We didn’t find her until a good bit later. She was sitting quietly on the bank of a stream with her feet in the water, her robe perfectly white, and no blood anywhere except for her hair. It was dark and clotted, completely soaked. As if she’d tried to dye it red.”

This image gives me the impression of Camilla trying to reclaim her lost innocence by going back to the river, to the sight where she grew up as a child, but her head, her mind, is still tainted and cannot be cleansed.

The way Charles appears is as fascinating:

Charles had a bloody bite-mark on his arm that he had no idea how he’d got, but it wasn’t a human bite. Too big. And strange puncture marks instead of teeth. Camilla said that during part of it, she’d believed she was a deer; and that was odd, too, because the rest of us remember chasing a deer through the woods, for miles it seemed.

[…]

Really, I do not know how that happened. There was a dreadful mess. I was drenched in blood and there was even blood on my glasses. Charles tells a different story. He remembers seeing me by the body. But he says he also has a memory of struggling with something, pulling as hard as he could, and all of a sudden becoming aware that what he was pulling at was a man’s arm, with his foot braced in the armpit. Francis—well, I can’t say. Every time you talk to him, he remembers something different.”

[…]

“And that bite.”

“You’ve never seen anything like it,” said Francis. “Four inches around and the teeth marks just gouged in. Remember what Bunny said?”

Henry laughed. “Yes,” he said. “Tell him.”

“Well, there we all were, and Charles was turning to get the soap— I didn’t even know Bunny was there, I suppose he was looking in the door—when all of a sudden I heard him say, in this weird businesslike way, ‘Looks like that deer took a plug out of your arm, Charles.’ ”

It seems that Camilla tried to get her innocence back, what was stolen from her, by hurting Charles. This also throws us back to the passage of Clytemnestra killing Agamemnon to avenge what was manipulatively stolen from her (her daughter). I also love how the boys see themselves as wolves but Camilla, who was ahead of them, saw them as ‘a pack of dogs’. The way they are painted differently depending on the perspective is genius.

There is also a connection between the deer, the Meanads and the kind of living –the freedom- which Camilla seeks that has been textually established:

And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves?

Euripides speaks of the Maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, ‘more like deer than human being.’ To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst.

This is even more essential if one considers that the Maenads are tied to mythological events in which they tend to kill or tear apart men and animals in a state of frenzy. Moreover, some of the epithets that were traditionally attributed to them are connected to wool-spinning; the kind of imagery that can easily be connected to the Fate Clotho who span the thread of life and who decided in some occasions when mortals or gods should be saved or should die. If this theory is correct this is quite fitting for Camilla.

Then there is Richard’s comparison of Henry and Camilla to Pluto and Persephone:

It was shocking to hear him speak of her with such intimacy. Pluto and Persephone. I looked at his back, prim as a parson’s, tried to imagine the two of them together.

This is a significant choice on Tartt’s part. In the different sources Pluto and Hades are both names used for the ruler of the underworld but Hades is portrayed as violent and his abduction of Persephone is usually equated to rape, while Pluto in the Eleusinian Mysteries is seen as a loving husband to her.

Here’s my interpretation of Henry and Camilla possibly going after Charles. I see them as two people who have accepted each other but who can’t accept their own situation. Henry feels too detached from people and from the world. Out of the characters he only loves Julian all-consumingly and Camilla in a tamer way. When it comes to Richard, I think that his interest primarily lies with the fact that he sees him as someone who could finally be experiencing the same detachment. Henry is brought into the situation because his lack of empathy would make killing Charles easier in case Camilla had cold feet. The death of the farmer is an accident during the confusion that the drugs were causing.

But that night changed a lot. I think that after that night Camilla started regretting her decision, which eventually led her to staying with Henry in her attempt to break out of her situation in a way that wouldn’t involve getting her brother out of the way.

On the other hand Henry does not see beauty in living; this is something that he only glimpses during that night of ecstasy and which he tried to find again ever since. Henry, pristine and controlled, saw in that moment of total freedom that came with killing as the consequence of being in a state that did not allow him to be burdened by consciousness and by thinking a possible meaning in life. And this fact along with his preexisting lack of empathy made murder all the more easy for him.

Camilla’s unwillingness to go through with killing Charles –like Persephone she’s not always tied to the darkness of the underworld and of death- certainly changed her and Henry’s relationship but they still danced around it. The point of not going back was when Camilla showed that she herself was afraid of Henry. Killing had become part of Henry’s definition of living and Camilla showed that despite herself she saw that as a threat; as something to be weary and fearful of.

Henry bit his lip. He went to the window and looked out the corner of the shade. Then he turned around. He still had the pistol.

“Come here,” he said to Camilla.

She looked at him in horror. So did Francis and I. He beckoned to her with his gun arm. “Come here,” he said. “Quick.”

[…]

Camilla took a step away from him. Her gaze was terrified. “No, Henry,” she said, “don’t …”

To my surprise, he smiled at her. “You think I’d hurt you?” he said. “Come here.”

She went to him. He kissed her between the eyes, then whispered something—what, I’ve always wondered—in her ear.

“I’ve got a key,” the innkeeper yelled, pounding away at the door. “I’ll use it.”

The room was swimming. Idiot, I thought wildly, just try the knob. Henry kissed Camilla again. “I love you,” he said. Then he said, out loud: “Come in.”

I think that Camilla’s reaction sealed Henry’s fate. He had lost Julian, whom he loved more than anyone else, Richard did not understand him as he had hoped and Camilla, the one person who had at least fully accepted him showed that there was a part of her that could not fully embrace who he was. Henry ‘s predicament here comes down to this: Aristotle wrote that an individual who is naturally unsocial is either a beast or a god. Henry is conflicted between wanting to be accepted by few other human beings while being in this unsocial situation that tiptoes between the beastly and divine, unchallenged, power. Camilla was the last person left who might have accepted him as such and when he realizes that these are unrecognizable he ends his life, which ends up being a catalyst for Camilla’s character who has shattered her bond with Charles, whom she cares for despite herself, by investing in the understanding they had.

At the end of the book Camilla is partly hanging on the kind of living she could have had with Henry and partly mourning everything she’s lost.

“You should see the way I live now, Richard,” she said. “My Nana’s in bad shape. It’s all I can do to take care of her, and that big house, too. I don’t have a single friend my own age. I can’t even remember the last time I read a book.”

Camilla is back at her grandmother’s, back at the service of Diana, at a place that will always keep reminding her her irrevocably lost innocence. It’s not the situation itself that is dreadful. What makes it so is that it is a distorted version of Camilla’s childhood; one that comes with responsibility, with loss and with sacrificing ‘living’ and by extent beauty in service of others.

Finally, the tell-tale hint that Camilla’s dismay with her life is genuine and not a lie she employs to keep Richard at bay is her confession about being unable to read anymore. Being unable to be free and to live even on a spiritual level is part of her punishment.

#camilla macaulay #the secret history #tsh #donna tartt #henry winter #charles macaulay #richard papen #meta #tsh meta #long post

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angelaiswriting · 5 years

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Light | Tommy Shelby x reader

[original picture: pexels]

✏️ Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: It’s a peaceful morning the one Y/N and Tommy wake up to in the wagon they took to escape the city for a day or two. (Requested by Anonymous)

✏️ A/N: I hope this short story will manage to brighten up your day a bit. If you ever need a friend to vent to, I’m here 💛

✏️ Beta-read by @sweetvengeancee

✏️ Warnings: fluff (+ slight mentions of a night spent making love)

✏️ Word-count: 2,094

She wakes up to light – blinding, warm light that seeps in through the opening of the wagon that Tommy has borrowed from Johnny. It pulls on her muscles, makes her skin tingle as she slowly swims back towards the surface of her placid, dreamless sleep.

A pleasant soreness has settled into her limbs, and she’s sure her skin is littered with kisses and hickeys and bruises in each and every place Tommy has touched her. The feeling has a lazy smile to stretch across her lips as she hums, her eyes still closed even though the dawn light is insistent on the other side of her closed eyelids.

Her butt presses into the blankets and her back arches and for a moment, she feels like a cat as she gently stretches her back, one tired vertebra after the other until also her neck is arching, welcoming the new day.

The air is different – and it’s the first thing the rational part of her mind notices. It’s crisp, almost chilly, and so clean it almost makes her head dizzy, her nostrils itch as her lungs feel light in her chest. A nice and welcome difference compared to what she usually breathes in Birmingham – and in Small Heath above all.

The second thing she becomes aware of is Tommy’s breath brushing the skin of her shoulder, right across the bruise she got at The Garrison two busy nights before. It’s warm, almost wet and it makes her smile grow wider the more she realizes where she is – in a wagon with her childhood crush, away from the chaos and the troubles of the city.

She peaks one eye open and all she sees for a moment is white, blinding light and the small crochet curtain covering the entrance of the wagon Tommy has left open last night. It flutters in the wind like a leaf and each time the morning breeze sends it flying in and upward, she gets a glimpse of green – and of the peach and pink of the sky as it slowly awakens.

It calms and excites her at the same time and when she opens her other eye, too, she feels like a new person. It’s almost as though Tommy burned the old her to ashes with his lips and his body and she is now reborn like a phoenix.

It feels good. And as she props herself up on her elbows and lets the blanket fall down her body to let the breeze wash over her still-tingling skin, she finds herself wishing she could stay right here until her dying day. No worries, no troubles to fix or run away from, no cars, no smoke and certainly, no shit-covered Small Heath anymore. It’s a dream, and an impossible one at that, but for a moment she wants to believe – believe it’s possible for her to run away, for Tommy to leave everything behind, for them to have a life away from the death that lurks behind every corner in Birmingham.

She remains still for endless minutes, staring at the ever-changing colours of the sky as the hues go from warm to colder ones until there’s light blue winking at her at the horizon. It’s then that she turns to her right, half-expecting to find Tommy already awake and intent in staring at her, too lost in his own thoughts to let her aware of the fact that his eyes have been trained on her for a while.

But Tommy is sleeping – and it’s a first: he’s either out of bed running his business or staring at her when she wakes up. Today is different for him, too, she thinks as her smile slowly fades away. It’s not out of sadness nor is it out of worry. There’s a warm, lazy feeling stretching inside her as she watches him sleep: she doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen him like this. The Thomas Shelby everyone is terrified of is no more, for he’s left his place to the old Tom nobody has seen after the war.

He’s beautiful like that – there’s no denying that, there’s no hiding that. The lines of his face are softer, no wrinkles of expression are visible anymore. And as his eyes run back and forth behind his eyelids, his lashes flutter above his cheekbones. They’re long, his eyelashes, long and black and they brush against freckled pale skin. His lips – plump and pink and still a little bruised – are set in a slight pout, one Tommy would never consciously wear when awake.

But like this… God, like this, it’s different. It’s like staring at a completely new person – and even better than that: it’s like finding again someone she thought she had lost forever, swallowed up by the horrors of the war. She feels younger as she looks at him – she feels fifteen again, and it’s like losing her virginity all over again with the only difference that now she’s seen the man she had spent days wondering how he’d one day be.

It’s a good difference, of course, but it makes her long for something they can’t seem to be able to have – peace and tranquillity and a clean mind. Sometimes she thinks about dragging him away from the city, away from its dangers and away from his enemies, but it’d equal to killing him slowly, one day at a time, she reasons. He’s bled so deep into the Peaky Blinders that sometimes, it feels like he’s only that, like there’s no more to him than the Tommy Shelby everyone at The Garrison knows.

She stretches her hand out, traces the line of his jaw with light fingers. And she smiles. It’s the only thing she can do as she stares as the man that managed to fuck her up sleeps.

There’s no running away from Birmingham for her, either. It’s a sudden and unexpected realisation, but it’s also the truth. There’s no running away, not when she has all she needs there – a man that worships her, a family that loves her, friends that cherish her. Happiness. It’s happiness, even when it doesn’t feel like it, even when the smokes of the city fog up her eyes. She has Tom and his siblings, she has the friends of a lifetime, she has a better job than the one her parents grew up dreaming for her…

Staying doesn’t feel that heavy a burden, not when she thinks of the frame she’s built around her picture with the things and the people she loves. But a getaway? A getaway will always feel like a blessing – and she doesn’t even need much: a wagon, a horse, some food and the one person she’s sworn to marry as a kid. Marriage is not in sight as of now – if it ever will be –, but the child she has spent her days running after is there, and that’s what matters.

And her touch on him is light, for she doesn’t want to wake him up. She doesn’t remember the last time he’s had such a peaceful slumber, and she doesn’t want to be the one to interrupt it, not if she can avoid it.

Her thumb brushes across his lower lip as her hand cradles the side of his face.

He looks innocent – like he’s never seen the horrors he’s seen, like he’s never done the things he’s done, said the things he’s said. The early-morning light seems to kiss his skin, even the reddened tip of his nose. And there are goosebumps on his arms, but he doesn’t raise from his sleep, doesn’t register the chilly morning starting to chirp and shine outside.

If she could take a picture of him like this, she would. She would eternalise this moment on film just to then waste the rest of her life staring at the photograph, treasuring it like the most precious of her belongings.

For a few invaluable moments, he’s young and innocent and she feels blessed, for she’s able to see it, to witness that big of a change happen right on his face.

He wakes up slowly, just not as slowly as she did. He hums in his sleep, swallows, and his lips part as he exhales from his mouth. His eyes scrunch tightly against the stubborn light of day but when her hand slides away from his face, they’re quick at opening. The fair light blue sets on her as his hand wraps around her wrist and when he sees it’s her – it’s just her –, he smiles.

“Hi.” His voice is groggier than usual and he has to clear it for a moment as he brings her hand to his chest, presses it right on his Romani sun.

She smiles, lies down closer to him, presses a kiss to his arm before nuzzling the side of his shoulder with her nose. “Morning.”

“Were you staring at me?”

It somehow makes her chuckle – and it’s low and airy, it feels as light as the crochet curtain still dancing in the wind. “What if I were?”

He doesn’t answer, he just… He just smiles. He looks at her with one of those knee-melting smiles she rarely sees these days and she finds him more blinding than the morning sun – and also warmer, wilder – kinder than he lets himself be in Birmingham.

He’s twenty again, a few years before the war came and took him away, and she’s just as young, hopeful for the future peeking from behind the corner of the end of her adolescence. It’s like a jump back in time, and it feels good. It erases anything else for a moment or two and there’s just the two of them left, right here in this wagon, naked under the blankets, with their bodies still carrying the signs of a night spent making love to each other.

“That would be creepy.” There’s no real conviction behind his words, for he’s still half-asleep and in this state, he’d let her do anything.

She chuckles, scoots closer and nuzzles her cheek against his arm. “Oh, so it’s creepy if I stare at you while you sleep, but it’s not when you do it?”

He exhales loudly from his nose as his smile stretches and widens, and for a moment there’s just almost-complete silence. The leaves whispers outside as they tremble on the branches; a bird chirps not far from there and underneath those sounds, there’s Tommy’s breathing – slow and paced and peaceful, for once. He’s relaxed against hers and his right hand is still holding onto her left, fingers uncomfortably entwined under the blanket, but neither seems to care.

“You’re perfect while I’m…”

“Still the child I used to crush on,” she smiles, pressing a kiss to his skin. “I see him again today, in here, away from the lives we normally carry on.”

He chuckles – and it’s quiet, almost barely there. “How does he look?”

“Tired,” she admits, moving her head until she’s staring up at the side of his face as he looks at the ceiling of the wagon. “But he’s still there. And there’s light,” she adds as she lovingly squeezes his hand in hers.

When he turns his head to look at her, there’s the whole weight of his years on his face and the child she once knew is gone. It’s not a bad thing, though – we must all step out of the dream sooner or later and sometimes, it’s unexpected. It’s not a bad thing for this is still the man she loves – even when he has trouble showing her his feelings, even when he turns overprotective and even when they feel oceans apart.

“That’s because you are my light,” he says in a whisper, eyes fixed on hers and voice so faint it’s almost like a secret, like a confession given in a church.

It comes as a surprise even when it shouldn’t, even when this has always been clear – both at nine and at twenty-nine. His words still make her smile, though, and she feels light and weightless, floating in the morning breeze under a sky turning more and more blue with each passing minute.

She doesn’t tell him he’s her light, too, for he wouldn’t believe her – not yet, at least, not as long as he’ll linger in the dark corners of his mind. But it’s alright: they still have time.

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jovialyouthmusic · 5 years

Text

Charlotte’s Choice

A Royal Romance AU

11 The Hunt

Drake has a small victory, and checks in with the Englishman

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Chapters will slow down now unless I get a flash of inspiration - I have the ending but the middle is a bit thin... enjoy xx

11 The Hunt

Gritting his teeth, Drake urged his horse on, neck and neck with Anton, the finishing line coming up fast. He didn’t care that it would be bad form for a born commoner to win over someone with such ancient lineage, no matter that he had been awarded the status of Duke after his father’s sacrifice. He just wanted to wipe the smug look off Anton’s face, and more than that, win the right to be the Princess’s escort for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Just the one victory, just one time to be at her side in public, he told himself, and he would concede the rest.

He kneed his steed and murmured encouragement, his grip on the reins tightening, but still gentle with the horse.

‘Come on Sultan, you can do it. Don’t let that stuck up Duke beat us, not this time. I promise I’ll come to the stables tomorrow and spend some time with you, old fellow. Do it for Charlie.’ Sultan flared his nostrils and surged forward, leaving Anton behind. They crossed the finishing line a good two lengths ahead, and Drake wheeled Sultan round so he could see Anton’s expression as he crossed the line. His face was fixed into a grimace, and he caught the ghost of a scowl before he composed his features into a gracious smile of congratulation. He whipped past Drake before turning and reining in his steed to come parallel with him, extending his hand.

‘Well done Walker’ he proclaimed, loud enough for the King and Princess to hear ‘That was an excellent effort.’ Drake inclined his head, noting that he didn’t address him as ‘Sir’, the insult rolling off him like water off a duck’s back. Anton’s grip was firm, and he felt him pull forward slightly in an attempt to unseat him. Drake matched his grip and anchored himself into the saddle, causing Anton to pitch forward slightly instead, but he recovered and let go swiftly. Drake didn’t care that he’d most probably made an enemy, he wasn’t in this game to make friends, he was there to make sure Charlotte was happy for as long as he was able. Anton had already showed his colours as far as he was concerned, and he would be telling Charlotte to be cautious with him.

Brad crossed the finishing line and wrestled his steed round to come alongside Drake just as Anton dismounted. Drake had met the Englishman at the stables early and picked out Apple Blossom as a good match for him and given him a few tips when he saw he had a little skill at riding.

‘A creditable third’ said Drake ‘Didn’t I tell you that horse was fast?’ Brad grimaced as he slid off the saddle with just enough poise to look competent.

‘You weren’t joking, that’s for sure’ replied Brad ‘It was all I could do to stay in the saddle, Apple Blossom here did all the work’ As the King and the Princess came forward with the winner’s wreath, Drake remembered his conversation with Brad that morning as he got the two horses ready for the day’s events.

‘So you got some alone time with Char - Lottie last night.’ he said questioningly, covering for the fact that he had been about to share his pet name for the Princess with him. ‘How was her mood?’ Brad scratched the back of his neck and looked sideways at Drake

‘Can I be honest with you?’

‘That would be appreciated if you can’ he replied

‘She took me to some ex Queen’s bedroom and jumped me – she was pretty frantic’ Drake stopped grooming Sultan, his nostrils flaring. He waited for Brad to carry on ‘you didn’t tell me she’s technically a virgin’

‘I left that for her to divulge’ Drake said, trying to sound casual but feeling the bite of jealousy, restarting the long slow strokes of the brush.

‘Well I won’t go into details, but she still is’ Brad replied

‘Ha, well I suppose I should thank you for that, but it was her choice to make’ he said, going back to grooming Sultan vigorously. The horse whinnied in complaint, and he softened his stroke, patting his flank consolingly.

‘She always talks about you, I can tell she really cares about you.’ Brad assured him

‘That’s good to know, I guess’ Drake said. Brad rubbed the back of his neck again

‘I think she’s starting to realise what she has, but she’s concerned that she makes a good choice for Cordonia. She thinks that rules out marrying for love’ Drake paused, saying nothing and then handed Brad a brush.

‘Here. You should probably give Apple Blossom here a grooming, get to know her before you saddle up’ He inhaled the scents of the stable, the hay and the leather and dung, the polish, and the faint smell of sweat. He always had found it soothing and grounding, which was just as well, otherwise he would probably have swung for the Englishman already.

‘She’s pretty stressed out about this business.’ said Brad as he copied the long slow strokes Drake made over Sultan’s smooth flanks on Apple Blossom. ‘She knows she needs to make the right choice, and I think you and I are doing okay helping her. I actually think we complement each other’ Brad went on.

‘How so?’ asked Drake

‘Well, not to put too fine a point on it, you’re rather abrasive but you stay in the background and are pretty good at watching what’s going on’ Drake snorted in derision

‘No shit, Sherlock’ he scoffed, and Brad sighed in exasperation

‘Whereas in my time as a barkeeper, I’ve learned to be diplomatic, get folk to open up, size ‘em up while I’m doing it, lay on the English charm but stay alert for trouble. I can find out how the other suitors are holding up, what their plans for the Princess are if there’s any gaps in your intel’. Drake sighed. The Englishman was persistent, he’d give him that.

‘If I agree, will you stop talking?’ He said in exasperation. Bad mimed zipping his lip, nodding yes. He was almost as bad as Maxwell – he was Maxwell without the energy. And the stupidity.

‘Okay, lets do that then, and report at the end of the day, see what each of us has discovered.’ He said begrudgingly. ‘I’ll bring my hip flask’ He was going to need whiskey in order to interact with keep it together, he told himself – and all for Charlie’s benefit.

Now the King was congratulating him on winning the race at the end of the day’s symbolic hunt and the Princess hung a wreath around his neck, smiling with happiness. They had all ridden out into the Cordonian countryside to make camp at an ancient village that had seen a significant battle, to race for the favour of the Princess and camp the night. It was more like glamping than camping, as there were log cabins to sleep in and marquees had been set up for feasting and drinking. Drake was elated that he had won the right to stay by her side for the rest of the afternoon and evening as her champion.

He looked around at the other suitors. Anton appeared to be taking his defeat with good grace, but Drake knew better after catching that fleeting glimpse of his true feelings at the finishing line. Maxwell hadn’t been bothered about the race at all and was bouncing around like a puppy as usual. Rashad was easy to read, a dedicated businessman who knew when to seal a deal and when to kick back and enjoy the fruits of his labour, though Drake wasn’t sure how he was with women. Neville wore his usual expression that said everyone around him was unworthy of his attention, Tariq was either posing or picking invisible lint off his riding clothes, and Milo was displaying his usual emotionless demeanour. Drake had filled Brad in on those last two suitors in the hope that he could uncover something useful. Indeed, he saw Brad drawing Tariq aside and chatting with him disarmingly.

The rest of the afternoon was spent at The Princess’s side, eating (mostly meat, as it was a hunt, even if it was only symbolic) drinking (he drank little, saving himself for the bottle of single malt in his saddlebag) and making polite conversation – or rather, listening as Charlie made polite conversation with him by her side, letting it all wash over him. He couldn’t help imagining what it would be like if she chose him, though he still didn’t believe that Olivia’s plan could work, or that he was worthy of the role of Prince Consort. There was little opportunity for speaking privately, and even less of being alone with her for any length of time. Her Father stuck to her side determinedly.

All too soon she announced she was tired and would be going to her private chalet to sleep. He couldn’t go any further than her threshold, so he said his goodnight there, taking her hand and kissing it, promising her to meet alone the next day. It would be their last full day at the Palace, ass the whole court would be travelling to spend a week at Lythikos on Olivia’s territory. He had no idea if she had planned anything out of the ordinary but was sure he would find out soon enough.

Drake made his way to the ruins a few minutes’ walk away from the edge of the camp, where he had agreed to meet Brad and compare notes on the day, making sure there was no-one else around. He was the first to arrive, so he took out his trusty hip flask and took a good swig of whiskey. He hadn’t been there very long when two figures appeared.

‘Well well, the victor arrives’ said Olivia ‘I thought perhaps I could join in your little game of espionage’

‘Olivia’ said Drake sharply ‘It’s hardly espionage, more intel if you insist on using jargon. I wanted to include you too, so it’s good you’re here’

‘Whatever you call it, I’d like to contribute if I may’ Drake nodded, took a swig from the hip flask and passed it to Brad. The Englishman tipped his head back to take a drink and made an approving face as Drake felt the burn of the alcohol spreading. He cleared his throat and spoke.

‘Okay, so if you were in any doubt, Anton is not to be trusted, he’s two faced – polite to my face, but I caught a few expressions that show his real feelings, and he doesn’t like to lose – he made a good try to pull me out of the saddle when he shook hands. Plus he was pretty smarmy toward Charlotte after the Archery competition, tried to sell her a sob story about his father. I’m not sure what his game is, but he’s definitely a bit off at least. Brad, did you find out anything about Tariq or Milo?’ Brad handed him back his flask and he took another mouthful.

‘I gather you know Tariq pretty well, and I got him talking over a glass or two of some very decent bubbly. I don’t think there’s much to him beyond the expensive clothes and snobbery. He doesn’t talk about women very respectfully, and I suspect he’d not treat Charlotte with any kindness, just use her as a blank chequebook to finance his expensive taste in clothes and booze.’

‘That’s much as I thought, but it’s good to hear you delved a little deeper’ said Drake ‘How about Milo?’ Brad made a face

‘He’s very difficult to read, very uptight and close lipped. I couldn’t get him to talk at all.’ Brad said glumly, but Olivia laughed.

‘Oh he’s a pussycat if you know how to play him’ she said ‘He has a penchant for young blonde women and loves driving sports cars. Find out what he’s driving and sing its praises, he’ll open up like a cracked safe’ Brad raised his eyebrows

‘Well that’s useful. Welcome to team Charlotte, Lady Olivia’ he said with admiration

‘I was on the team before you even met her’ she said dismissively and took the hip flask from Drake. She took a sip and made a face ‘Really, you need some good Lythikos Ale, not this dishwater’

‘So, going on – do we need to delve into Neville’s dirty dishwater?’ Drake asked. Olivia made a face, and a memory surfaced in in her mind.

‘Why is that dirty commoner here?’ Neville’s voice drifted over to Olivia as she watched Charlotte gazing out of the window to her mother’s garden and the maze, Drake sitting next to her and talking quietly.

It was the Princess’s birthday – the first without her mother. Constantine had gone ahead and thrown a party despite her insistence that she didn’t want one. She had told Olivia that all she wanted to do was go into the centre of the maze, the hedges only just her head height – if she stood on tiptoe she could easily see where to go. She wanted to go into the middle and sit quietly and alone and try to cement the memories of her mother before they faded. Under a loose floorboard in her bedroom she kept a box with some mementoes – a scarf, a bottle of her perfume, a letter the Queen had written to her when she’d been on a Royal Tour of Shanghai and Charlotte had been too ill to go with her. She wanted to take the letter to the centre of the maze, but instead she had to welcome her guests and play games and eat party food. Olivia knew she had the scarf in her pocket anyway and wore a little of the perfume.

Olivia whipped round to look at Neville,

‘What did you say?’ she demanded

‘That filthy commoner – what’s his name? Walker? His father failed to protect the Queen, didn’t he? He should be the last person to be invited. I don’t know why he’s still here, him and his sister should go and join their mother, goodness knows why they’re still at the Palace’

Olivia was not overly fond of young Drake, but she was fiercely close to Charlotte, having made firm friends after her own parents had died, before her Aunt had come to claim her and take her back to Lythikos. She spent her summers and Christmases at the Palace and had seen how close Charlotte and Drake had become after the assassination of the Queen. She was a little jealous of sharing her best friend’s attention but nevertheless shared a common bond with the Princess and with Drake and Savannah. Charlotte had begged her father not to send the two children away when Mrs Walker suddenly left, abandoning them, and they had been made wards of the Crown.

‘Call him a filthy commoner again and you’ll regret it’ she snarled. The friend of her best friend was her friend too, and she had never liked Neville, ever since he had found a toad and dropped it in her lap on a picnic. It wasn’t that she didn’t like toads, in fact she had kept one as a pet, but it had been so sudden that she’d jumped up screaming and everyone had laughed at her. Not for long though – she had picked it up and soothed it and pretended to put the poor creature down Neville’s back, instead dropping a handful of jello down. He had jumped around and squealed enough to eclipse her own reaction and from then on, he had been called the Toad.

‘Whatever, he’ll always be a commoner’ he said dismissively. Olivia balled up her fists with anger, then acted. She grabbed hold of him and dragged him over to the dining table, groaning with food -sandwiches, savoury pastries, cakes and sweets – and a large trifle decorated with cream. She got hold of his hair and pressed his head face first into the bowl of trifle. He came up gasping and bawling before she repeated it, dunking him again and again, cream and jello spattering everywhere. There was an uproar, and Bastien was the one to take hold of her and pry Neville’s hair out of her fist. He took one look at her serene expression and supressed a smile. Neville was taken away to clean up and didn’t return to the party, but Olivia was never disciplined, the whole debacle declared an accident. It was not long after that Jackson Walker had been posthumously declared a Duke, and Drake was allowed to take up the title in his own right.

‘Neville isn’t a problem’ she said, ‘That toad’s too spineless to make a proper attempt, and Lottie dislikes him.’

‘So what so we do with all this info once we have it?’ asked Brad ‘The Princess wasn’t going to choose any of them anyway – was she?’

‘No, but she’s under a lot of pressure from the King’ said Drake ‘Who has also asked me to dig a little into all of them. I have to say he favours Anton most, because of his heritage. She may have to give good reasons for turning each one down’ Olivia yawned.

‘Well we have some time yet – if I can’t get Milo to open up, maybe Olivia can?’ Brad said, looking at her pointedly. ‘Which leaves Rashad and Maxwell’

‘Maxwell’s a boy’ asserted Olivia ‘She thinks of him as a little brother, and he’s easy to read. We can rule him out completely as far as I’m concerned’

‘Okay, then we do some dirt digging on Rashad, and keep our eyes and ears open for anything Anton might let slip’ said Drake. ‘Then Charlotte will have a good idea where she stands.’

‘Well, Brad and I have to make an early start for Lythikos tomorrow, so we’d better get to bed. you’ll have a day on your own to do that digging or spend some time with Lottie.’ Olivia announced, yawning ‘Sleep well, boys’ and with a broad wink she took Brad’s arm and they made their way back to the chalets.

Charlotte cautiously opened the window to the rear of the chalet, looking around before climbing up on the windowsill to drop silently to the soft earth floor beneath. She began out toward the ruins but had barely gone a few feet before a figure stepped out of the shadows. She stopped dead in fright, hand on her chest, and Bastien frowned at her before drawing her back into the shadows.

‘Have you somewhere to go, Princess?’ he said in a low voice ‘Your father would not be pleased to know you are out alone’ The princess sighed

‘Bastien, it’s fine, I arranged to meet someone…’

‘I must ask you who, your highness’ Charlotte let her breath out in a long sigh

‘Does it matter Bastien?’

‘Under the circumstances, most definitely yes’ he insisted

‘If I tell you, will you let me go alone?’ She couldn’t see his expression in the darkness, but his tone was sorrowful.

‘I’m sorry your highness, I have to know, and whether I allow it or not depends very much on who it might be’

‘And would you report it to my father?’

‘If you remain in my sight, I may be able to keep your confidence – again that depends on who…’

‘Oh Bastien, it’s only Drake’

‘I have to point out, your highness, that Duke Walker is one of the suitors, and being alone with him is not in the interests of fairness or balance’ his tone softened ‘But as he is also a close friend, I will allow you to meet him if you remain within my sight’ Charlotte felt the urge to hug Bastien, but instead put her hand on his forearm.

‘Thankyou Bastien, that means a lot to me’ Bastien shifted uncomfortably

‘Carry on Princess, I’ll be behind you’ Charlotte squeezed his arm and carried on toward the ruins. Had she not known Bastien was following her, she would not have realised, and she wondered how many times she had been watched in the past, although Drake was far better at spotting that sort of thing, having trained with the Guard himself.

Sure enough, when she reached the ruins, Drake pulled her aside into the shadows

‘You’re being followed – he’s good’ he hissed

‘It’s fine, it’s Bastien. He has to be able to see me’ she explained. Drake let out his breath in a sigh and embraced her before moving back into the open. He held her at arm’s length, trying to see her face in the dim light.

‘How are you holding up?’ he asked, ‘It was good to be close to you today’ Charlotte smiled back

‘It was good to have you there – I felt so much more relaxed’ she replied. ‘and it’s good to see you now, I feel - more normal’ She leant into him, relishing the solid feel of his chest, the steady beat of his heart soothing her. He held her gingerly

‘I’m not sure we should be doing this in front of Bastien’ he whispered, and she drew away to look up at him.

‘He knows we’re friends’ she replied, ‘What could be more natural?’ Drake made an odd noise

‘Heh – yes, friends’ he said, ‘though we’d better not get up to the sort of things we do when we go riding’ Charlotte giggled.

‘True’ she replied and rested her head on his chest. ‘We’ll be riding home in the morning, then I’ll be packing for Lythikos. Livvy said she’d find a room for you in the Chateau, and Anton will be out in one of the chalets.’ She looked up at him ‘I’m looking forward to skating and skiing – will you be joining in this year?’ Drake smiled down at her

‘Try and stop me’ he grinned ‘Usual race down the piste?’

‘Of course, and I’ll beat you again’ she laughed ‘just you wait and see’

#drake walker #drake x mc #the royal romance #choices trr #choices the royal romance #trr #trr drake #trr fanfic #trr choices #charlotte's choice

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zaldrizer-sovesi · 7 years

Text

Khaleesi of Nothing, the Millionth of your Name

Each of the old women had been a khaleesi once. When their lord husbands died and a new khal took his place at the front of his riders, with a new khaleesi mounted beside him, they were sent here, to reign over the vast Dothraki nation. Even the mightiest of khals bowed to the wisdom and authority of the dosh khaleen. Still, it gave Dany the shivers to think that one day she might be sent to join them, whether she willed it or no. (AGOT, Daenerys V)

The heart of a stallion would make her son strong and swift and fearless, or so the Dothraki believed, but only if the mother could eat it all. If she choked on the blood or retched up the flesh, the omens were less favorable; the child might be stillborn, or come forth weak, deformed, or female. (AGOT, Daenerys V)

"You belong to the Dothraki now. In your womb rides the stallion who mounts the world." He held out his cup, and a slave filled it with fermented mare's milk, sour-smelling and thick with clots.

Dany waved her away. Even the smell of it made her feel ill, and she would take no chances of bringing up the horse heart she had forced herself to eat.

Do the dosh khaleen have power?

They certainly have status and influence. They have important jobs in the temple. They are probably kept safe. Compared to most of the other options, it’s nice work if you can get it.

But it’s also not something that you can aspire to, earn, or even choose. When Daenerys first sees the city as a teenager, she is adapting to a situation that’s been forced onto her. While she intellectually acknowledges that the temple of the dosh khaleen is how that situation ends, she doesn’t come up against what that means until Drogo is wounded. Before anyone knows about his injury, she can pretty much do whatever she wants, as long as she explicitly invokes his authority. Even after the bloodriders realize it’s serious, he’s still alive and conscious enough that she can convince him to submit to Mirri’s treatment. Her idea is pretty transgressive and it’s impressive that she fights for it – but even then, the issue is whether Mirri’s abilities can be exercised, not whether Dany can do anything on her own. But she will lose everything with his death, and she knows it. Much as she’s come to care for him, her fear of his death is largely and explicitly about how she will lose everything when the light of her sun-and-stars goes out. And she’s right!

Jhogo took the whip from her hands, but his face was confused. "Khaleesi," he said hesitantly, "this is not done. It would shame me, to be bloodrider to a woman.".... Aggo accepted the bow with lowered eyes. "I cannot say these words. Only a man can lead a khalasar or name a ko."..... "You are khaleesi," Rakharo said, taking the arakh. "I shall ride at your side to Vaes Dothrak beneath the Mother of Mountains, and keep you safe from harm until you take your place with the crones of the dosh khaleen. No more can I promise."

A khaleesi has status, and some derivative degree of influence. But it’s not a title which connotes authority or power, individually or collectively.

That’s not to say they’re irrelevant. The dosh khaleen serves an important purpose in Dothraki life. They are the inhabitants and keepers of Vaes Dothrak. The city is both domestic and public, effectively serving the purpose of the private sphere for the Dothraki: it provides a place of sanctuary where the men who run a society are protected from competition with other men. But it also serves the public function of allowing the various khals to maximize the benefits of cooperation and trade while minimizing the risks. The dual nature of the city creates the sense of it as a home for all Dothraki, which in turn supports a sense of shared community across the many far-flung khalasars. Vaes Dothrak is important enough that the constraints on its inhabitants are critical.

There are more immediate reasons for this duty to be given to the widows of khals. Khals make the rules, and they’re not going to give Vaes Dothrak to one of their rivals. Most khals want their wives to be taken care of after their deaths, and even the ones who are emotionally indifferent to their wives still don’t want to be subjected to the posthumous degradation they inflict on their own enemies of “taking [raping and enslaving] their wives.” Removing a widowed khaleesi from the horde is part of keeping the power structure unambiguous, and it forces the khal’s sons to sink or swim on their own if they want to take their father’s place. But it’s also a forceful enactment of cultural values. Someone who stays put in one city may be a king, but he cannot be a khal, and nobody who is not a khal can be given authority over khals.

Their role categorically excludes them from the defining features of Dothraki life. They cannot ride with a khalasar, because they cannot leave Vaes Dothrak. They cannot fight – or prepare themselves for someone to attack them – because there are no weapons in Vaes Dothrak. This paradoxically forces the dosh khaleen to be more invested than anyone in protecting the Dothraki’s social norms, because the Dothraki’s social norms are all that will protect them.

In this light, the priestesses of the dosh khaleen have some striking parallels to the Vestal Virgins of ancient Rome. Like the Dothraki, the ancient Romans were militaristic and expansionist. Rome, as the core of that empire, had the deep importance of a home base. And in the heart of Rome, certain sacred duties were entrusted to the Vestal Virgins. They were honored at sacred ceremonies and entrusted with documents as important as Caesar’s will. In many ways, they had more respect and independence than any other women in the Republic or the Empire. This autonomy is conditional on their gender performance – specifically, on their sexual histories. Like most khaleesi, Vestal Virgins didn’t choose their life path, they were chosen as children. Like the dosh khaleen, they lived or died as individuals and as an institution only as long as the sacred city’s rules and norms were universally upheld in their spirit and to the letter.

The institution of the dosh khaleen is an almost brutally crisp operationalization of the madonna/whore dichotomy, a sociological phenomenon which pins inequalities (primarily, but not only, gender inequality) in place by rewarding some women for their purity with a largely toothless type of status, while openly rationalizing abuses of any other women. Dothraki khals grant the title of khaleesi to a tiny minority of women, chosen either wholly arbitrarily or due to other status markers, such as the nobility, beauty, and adolescence that Illyrio used to market Daenerys to Drogo. They are set apart from most (not all) of the often horrifying treatment of lower status women – as long as they don’t put a toe out of line. Perfect compliance will bring you some polite deference and as comfortable a life as you can reasonably anticipate. Any challenge to those expectations and, well. It is known.

Daenerys, of course, veers way off this course when she hatches her dragons. Dragons are fire made flesh, and firepower is really not in the job description. She collects more conventional power. She learns to be a commander and a dragon queen, even chains her dragons and tries to be a politician.

[This is where we jump from the books to the show. I’ve used the books so far because I like the detail in the books, but there’s more material in S6, including scenes where the khaleesi speak to each other and for themselves. The core issue I’m interested in here is consistent.]

She is an intelligent, accomplished, and deeply impressive person. And what’s all that get her, when Drogon flies off and the Dothraki catch up with her?

"You heard my words," she said. "Stop them." She spoke to her khas in the harsh accents of Dothraki. "Jhogo, Quaro, you will aid Ser Jorah. I want no rape."

The warriors exchanged a baffled look. Jorah Mormont spurred his horse closer. "Princess," he said, "you have a gentle heart, but you do not understand. This is how it has always been. Those men have shed blood for the khal. Now they claim their reward."

Across the road, the girl was still crying, her high singsong tongue strange to Dany's ears. The first man was done with her now, and a second had taken his place. (AGOT, Daenerys VII)

QHONO: I’ll ask Khal Moro for a night with you. What do you think?

AKHO: Pretty eyes, but she’s an idiot.

QHONO: She doesn’t have to be smart to get fucked in the ass....... (The Red Woman)

"Eroeh?" asked Dany, remembering the frightened child she had saved outside the city of the Lamb Men.

"Mago seized her, who is Khal Jhaqo's bloodrider now," said Jhogo. "He mounted her high and low and gave her to his khal, and Jhaqo gave her to his other bloodriders. They were six. When they were done with her, they cut her throat." (AGOT, Daenerys IX)

MORO: You are nobody, the millionth of your name, Queen of Nothing, slave of Khal Moro. Tonight I will lie with you, and if the Great Stallion is kind you will give me a son. Do you understand?

DAENERYS: I will not lie with you.....

MORO: Forgive me. I did not know. It is forbidden to lie with a Khal’s widow. No one will touch you, you have my word.

DAENERYS: If you will escort me back to Meereen, I will see that your khalasar is given a thousand horses as a sign of my gratitude.

MORO: When a khal dies, there is only place for his khaleesi. (The Red Woman)

The only thing that saves her from the sexual violence the bloodriders were planning is her status as Drogo’s widow. Moro cuts her hands loose, but she is still a prisoner.

Moro’s bloodriders deliver her to the temple and wordlessly comply when the High Priestess tells them to leave. If that’s more than ceremonial, if she’s really in charge of the temple, you’d expect the High Priestess to be able to do more than “hope” the khals will “let” Daenerys live.

MORO: She should stay here. It’s our tradition. She belongs with the dosh khaleen.

DAENERYS: Don’t you want to know what I think?

MORO: You’d rather be sold into slavery? Or maybe you’d like to show Rhalko here what you taste like?

DAENERYS: No, I don’t want either of those things.

MORO: We don’t care what you want. This is the temple of the dosh khaleen. You have no voice here, unless you are dosh khaleen. Which you are not, until we decide you are. (Book of the Stranger)

And there it is. In this system, the khals are the final arbiters of her position. It’s inconsequential enough to them that they seem willing to humor her, maybe as a poke in the eye for those ancient and most glorious cities to the south. Until she opens her mouth to express an opinion and pique their egos, at which point she immediately becomes a “crazy cunt” they’re going to gang-rape to death.

Daenerys crushes them because she has the magic and the slightly deranged courage of a demigod – but also because of some hard-earned wisdom.

HIGH PRIESTESS: You cannot run from Dothraki. You know this.

DAENERYS: I will never run from Dothraki. (Book of the Stranger)

She understands that she can’t just extricate herself from this situation. Not only as a moral issue, or because she’s started to bond with a couple of them. She actually can’t. The only way to leave this system behind is to destroy some of it and to change the rest irrevocably.

#asoiaf meta #game of thrones meta #dothraki #vaes dothrak #daenerys targaryen #a game of thrones #the red woman #book of the stranger #rape culture #gender roles #historical parallels

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