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haechwrites · 1 year

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sugar, butter, & the royal crown - L.DH

prince!lee donghyuck x baker fem!OC (no name!)

synopsis: prince donghyuck only has one princess on his mind, but she's not actually a princess. she's just the royal baker's granddaughter.

wc: ~17.1k

warnings: pet names used only so i don't have to namedrop lol. no other warnings tho!

A/N: this is my second longest fic i've actually finished hehe i'm really happy with this one and now i wish i had a prince haechan lol

-- some things to note first:

THIS FIC IS WRITTEN IN FIRST PERSON. if you see ♔, that means it's in haechan's pov written in third person!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As a child, life is all about the simple pleasures. It didn’t matter that I’d come home to a dark house carrying the faint snores of my mother. I was still reeling from the sweet taste of mangoes on my tongue, the slight dusting of sugar in my hair, and the lingering soreness from laughing in my cheeks. I’d quickly wash up, give my mom a quick peck on the forehead, and tuck myself in bed. Before I know it, the sun greets me again and I meet my grandma outside as she leads me to the palace. This was my routine and for my young brain, there was nothing ever wrong with it.

My grandma is the head baker at the palace. Since the separation of my parents, I have spent my days with my grandma at work. It was all I knew and I was content with it. Every sunrise, I’d have 30 minutes before I had to meet her outside. Together, we’d walk to the palace’s servant entrance and my grandma would give our favorite guard, Doyun, a warm smile and a promise to slip an extra pastry in his meal for letting me tag along. I’d walk past him with a finger to my lips asking him to be sworn to secrecy. He’d always return it with a wink and a small laugh. It was our little promise, though I’m sure no one would actually mind an extra guest on the grounds – especially a mere 7-year-old.

Once inside the kitchen, I strap on the apron that the palace’s tailor secretly made specifically for me. Grandma told me that the busiest times in the kitchen were the mornings, so I always sit in the corner to let her start the day. I occupy myself for at least an hour before my friend comes to play with me. His entrance is always the same: a secret knock on the side door and a gleaming smile when I open it for him.

Today he’s dressed up in a super fancy garment, almost like a uniform. I had never seen him in anything other than his casual button-up and pants, typically covered by an extra adult-sized apron we’d find laying around.

“Donghyuck! What are you wearing?”

“Princess!,” He’d squeal, pulling me into a tight hug. “It’s my special outfit.”

“Is it your birthday?” My nose scrunches in confusion, looking him up and down. Even if it was his birthday, I can’t imagine his servant parents could afford such expensive fabric.

Donghyuck laughs before yanking a spare apron off its hook and pulling it over his head.

“Nooo. I have something important to do today. That’s why I’m wearing this,” He explains, looking a little nervous.

“Oh wow. You look like the King. Or like a prince,” I say jokingly, but Donghyuck freezes. His eyes are wide like the time he accidentally ate the last mango tart I was saving.

Then he breaks out into an awkward laugh and smiles wide at me, “I am a prince… because you’re my princess.” He says with utmost confidence, before grabbing my hands. We’re standing the way I position my two play dolls during a pretend wedding ceremony.

I quickly turn the shade of freshly baked cherry pies and I tear my hands out of his hold.

“Donghyuck-ah! How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” I huff, crossing my arms.

He snickers, “Hmmm… maybe one hundred more times.”

“One hundred more times?!”

“Yes, if you can even count that high,” he smirks, instantly easing the tension from earlier. He plops down onto my stool and looks up at me. “So what are we playing today? Or should we read? Or does Baker Grandma need help?”

I aimlessly kick the leg of the stool, thinking about what we could do today as I can see him anxiously bounce around in his seat. He looks like he’s running on limited time today. Sometimes Donghyuck disappears on me in the middle of our hangouts or doesn’t show up at all. I just assume his parents need help with their tasks just like how Grandma often calls me to help her bake. He’s never told me where in the palace they work despite the years we’ve been hanging out.

“What if we help your parents today?” The minute the question leaves my lips, I hear a snort from the kitchen staff and Donghyuck goes into a coughing fit as if the flour seeped into his lungs.

I begin to feel myself turn red again and wondering what was so wrong till I feel a familiar warm hand on my shoulder.

“Ah Donghyuck, you’re here today?” My grandma looks at his attire with a suspicious gaze. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Her hands are on her hips and it feels similar to the times she’s caught me using the oven on my own.

Donghyuck starts shyly giggling while fiddling with the oversized apron my grandma is reaching to remove. I stand there in confusion as he looks like a puppy that was told he wasn’t allowed to play or have a treat. I want to help him but the look on grandma’s face is too scary to fight.

She’s slowly ushering him out the door and I’m holding his apron in my hands, watching him pout.

“Bye Hyuck,” I mutter, sad that our day was cut short before it even began. This was the quickest that one has ended.

“Byeee Princess,” He says with as much despair in his voice. He always has to be a little more dramatic than me. I giggle and wave him goodbye, spirits lifted by his antics. I see a smile grow on his face at the sound of my laugh before my grandma closes the door.

My loneliness returns as I stare at the wooden panels of the side door.

“Did he have to go?” I ask, slumping back onto the stool he was just on.

My grandma turns to me with a quizzical look. I can’t tell if she’s angry, sad, or disappointed and then she’s crouched down in front of me. Her flour-coated hands are resting on my lap.

“Donghyuck got called by his parents. They’re very important people,” She starts slowly. Grandma has never talked about Donghyuck’s family or personal life before. It was never brought up in the past because I assumed he was just like me. Now that we’re finally beginning to talk about it, the hesitant look on her face makes me not want to know anymore.

“Guards?,” I ask. To me, Doyun is the most important worker in the castle as he freely lets me in and out. Maybe guards earn enough to adorn such fancy clothes I saw Donghyuck wear.

“No, honey,” She glances back at her staff, and I notice they’ve been watching. They give me a reassuring smile, but there’s uneasiness quivering on their lips.

“Donghyuck… Donghyuck is the Prince.”

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♔

They found him. Donghyuck’s personal guards find him where they usually do when he escapes his tasks, and that would be at the palace kitchen. This time, they find him outside the door, rather than inside scarfing down mango tarts.

Without any hesitation and with no room for him to trick them and run, they grab the tiny prince and bring him to the meeting he was meant to attend with the King. It was meant to be the first glimpse of his life as a future ruler, attending meetings with fellow diplomats and other boring princely things. Donghyuck does not understand why he can’t spend his day playing like a regular 7-year-old with his pretty friend from the kitchen.

Despite having complained and whined his way out of most duties, Donghyuck had reached the level of maturity to know that this one he couldn’t fight. I mean, the tailor adjusted his royal attire just for this one-hour meeting. After having come to terms with sitting in boredom for an hour, Donghyuck did not expect to be dragged into more as he was about to skip his way over to the kitchen once the diplomats left.

“And where are you off to now, Donghyuck?”

He freezes in his tracks and a shiver ripples down his spine at the sound of her voice. He’s been caught again.

He spins around, plastering the biggest smile possible on his face. “Nowhere, Mother. Just strolling around until my tutoring session.” He hopes she doesn’t recognize this path to the kitchen.

“And is your tutoring session located in the kitchen today?” She asks, words dripping with a patronizing attitude. Nothing Donghyuck isn’t used to.

“Oh! I wanted to see if I could get a quick snack before. My brain needs food, right?” He hides his crossed fingers behind his back, praying she doesn’t call his bluff.

“And you’re not just going there to see that girl, are you?” She takes a step closer and Donghyuck is scared she can see the drip of sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead. How did she know about Princess? He wonders if his guard ratted him out… even after Donghyuck gave him half of his tart. The betrayal, he scoffs.

“There’s no girl, Mother.” Donghyuck decides it's best to deny it and stare straight at his feet.

“You are correct, there will never be a girl. Instead, there will be a future queen. A princess for now and you need to begin meeting our potential suitresses,” The queen firmly states, grabbing his shoulders to steer him towards the library. Before he could stop himself, his chest bubbles with heat, and his brain is fogged with confusion. He can’t imagine anyone by his side but her.

“Why can’t she be my princess?”

The words spill out from his royal lips before he could catch them. There’s no missing the instant look of rage and disgust on the Queen’s face when her son’s true desires are revealed. Desires of the heart, but a complete disgrace to his duties as the Prince. Her eyes grow colder and her skin pales till her blush is the brightest hue on her cheeks.

Donghyuck feels his throat go dry and the crossed fingers behind his back unlock. No luck can help him now.

“No more kitchen visits, Prince Donghyuck.”

The queen’s words are final. His shoulders slump lower and his feet are heavy as he drags them across the cobblestone trailing toward the library. It feels like there was a wall that slammed into the ground behind him, forbidding him from seeing her again.

“Yes, ma’am. No more.”

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^ FIFTEEN YEARS LATER ^

The only memory of my childhood that lingered was the heat of the oven. Like I did every day at the age of 7, I continued to bake to keep that fire alive. There were days where the warmth was cooler than normal and my urge to bake waivered. Days like when my grandma stopped showing up outside my house every day a half hour after sunrise. Days like when my mother decided I was too much to raise when I stopped spending my time at the palace. And days like the one when I moved out of the city to live with my dad.

However, there were also days where the flame was ablaze. Days like when I got my own personal baking set. Days like when I got accepted into a baking school. And days like today, where I return to the city that pushed me out fifteen years ago to open a bakery. Despite the dismal circumstances of the day I left, I always felt the urge to return. It never felt right that I moved in the first place. Confusion still envelops my mind when I think about how my grandma stopped taking me to the palace for unsaid reasons and how my mother was incapable of taking care of me due to it. There had to be something more going on.

Outside of this mystery of my childhood, my main goal was to return with my own bakery specializing in my soon-to-be infamous mango tarts. I had visited the city for the first time since my move before to scope out bakery locations. But today was the day that I officially move in, to both my home and bakery, and kickstart my business. My first task was to put up a sign displaying the bakery’s name.

“Oh my goodness… so it is true!”

Warmth blooms in my chest; I would recognize that voice anywhere. I flip around and I’m greeted with her same sugary sweet smile. My grandma looks just as she did before but her hair is dusted white like the flour she worked with. But she still smelled like spiced apple pie, my eyes watered in disbelief.

“Grandma!” I ran into her open arms and I could feel her chuckle.

“Oh honey, it’s been much too long. Look at you now… a beautiful woman before my eyes,” She’s smiling widely and I can see her eyes take in my features. Fifteen years worth of change and growth.

“I’m sorry we haven’t been in contact much. I could barely find the time to tell you I was coming back.”

“It’s alright. All that matters is you’re here,” Grandma rubs my arms reassuringly. “And are you here alone? Or have you moved back with a lover?” The childish gleam on her face makes me giggle and I quickly correct her that I’m single and focusing on my baking.

“Ah, I see. In that case, you must have more time than I anticipated. You must come with me to work one of these days. Just like old times. Consider it research for your bakery.” The way she sways with excitement makes it hard for me to turn it down, and I can’t deny the flutter in my heart at the idea of stepping foot onto the palace grounds again. It was where it all started for me. I agreed with a smile.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After a week of prepping the bakery, I decided to visit my grandma. To be completely honest, outside of the work I had to do, my nerves did play a role in keeping me from going earlier. But now that I’ve decided I’ve run out of excuses, I’m walking to the servant entrance of the palace a little before noon to give my grandmother the morning to solely focus on work. It makes me smile knowing I still remember the schedule of the palace kitchen.

The streets surrounding the castle are quiet at this hour. I can still remember the hustle and commotion of the staff in the early morning, lining up to get inside to start their days. It was never daunting to be a young girl surrounded by a diverse array of people. It was thrilling and almost comforting and it was much better than staying home alone.

When I reach the gates, I feel like I’ve traveled back in time because blocking my path is a young guard who looks eerily like Doyun, the guard I knew from before.

“How can I help you, miss?”

“Hi.” I’m inspecting his face. He has the same colored hair, but it’s parted differently. He has the same warm light brown eyes and his face is a little softer than Doyun’s. My mind can’t help but ask, “I’m sorry if this is a strange question but do you know Guard Doyun?”

His stiff demeanor drops like a curtain and the young guard’s eyes light up, “I’m his son, Yunseo! How do you know my father?” Suddenly I don’t see a guard in uniform, but instead a bright, inviting individual in his place.

“No wonder! I’m the granddaughter of the head baker. I used to greet your father every morning when I was a child.”

“Oh yes! Yes, she told me you were coming. You can go right along in, just make sure she knows to sneak me an extra sweet treat.” He opens the gates for me.

“Ah like father, like son,” I giggle, slightly bowing to him as I enter.

“Do you remember how to get to the kitchen?”

I stare at the familiar worn cobblestone paths and nod, “I think so.”

The walk to the kitchen is shorter than I remember but the smell wafting from the windows is all the same. I reach the side door and I’m about to knock when I notice it’s creaked slightly open. I hear a voice above all the kitchen noise.

“Gran, please sneak something in my food today so I can get sick and stay in bed for the whole week. I do not want to court these women.” I peek my head in further to take a look at the man speaking. I let out a soft gasp when my eyes land on him.

Outside of his stunning beauty, he looks familiar. His tufts of chestnut brown hair are slightly waved as they curl around the nape of his neck. He often shakes his head to get the bangs out of his face, exposing his tan skin. If I look close enough, he has distinguishable moles on the plush curves of his cheeks. His rosy lips are wrapped around a piece of pastry and even when he’s talking with his mouth full, he’s still attractive. My eyes instantly widen when I notice his outfit: the royal attire.

A squeal escapes my mouth and before I could hide, the door is swung open by my grandma.

“You’re here!”

At the announcement of my arrival, the young man is dusting the crumbs off his hands, and looks like he’s about to make a quick escape.

“Hi Grandma,” I give her a hug, not minding the flour sticking to my sweater. “I was just about to knock.” I let out a small laugh to hide the fact that I was definitely eavesdropping not moments ago.

“Grandma?” I hear the man say behind her. He decided to stay after realizing it wasn’t one of his guards coming to get him, but instead a pretty woman. An oddly, familiar, pretty woman.

My grandma bites her lip to keep from smiling any bigger and she grabs my arm to present me to the man.

“Oh my. I forgot you guys know each other! It’s Donghyuck, do you remember, honey? You used to play with him every day as I worked.” The glint in her eyes is something more than just happy nostalgia and I give her a look.

“Pri-... Princess?” When the old nickname leaves his lips, I gasp and feel my cheeks bloom pink. The layers of the handsome man in front of me started to peel and I could see the little boy I spent my early life with. Most of my warmest days were spent with him. But I’m also brought back to one of the colder days of my childhood. The day I found out my childhood best friend was the Prince.

At first, I didn’t understand why my grandma was so fearful of telling me who he really was. I was ecstatic to hear that Donghyuck was royalty. I was fascinated and curious to see what his life was like and how it compared to being the granddaughter of a palace worker. I soon learned that what I wanted to discover was not so glamorous. Because apparently, his life excluded me. I didn’t piece that together until a few years after my move. Why else did Donghyuck stop showing up and why else was I forbade from going to the palace with my grandma? When I came to the realization, I began to resent him and eventually, completely forgot about him.

“Prince Donghyuck,” I bowed, trying not to show any expression. He had his arm slightly raised like he was about to reach for me but his body stiffened at my curtness. My grandma even looks at me with confusion. “It’s… It’s nice to see you again.”

“Oh, there’s no need to be so polite. You guys were friends!” My grandma squeezes my arms, urging me to get closer. I stay in my place.

“He’s the Prince, Grandma,” I whisper through my teeth and I can tell he hears me by the dejected look on his face. I can’t get myself to look him in the eyes.

“It’s quite alright. I actually have to get going. Prin-... Sorry, It was lovely to see you,” The Prince ducks his head and leaves the way I came in. He looks back at my figure once more, thoughts churning, before he disappears.

My feet remain still and I’m staring at the place he stood. Staring at the pastry he bit into. He’s real and he’s back. And the door he walked through was the same one he used to leave me 15 years ago. The alarms rang in my brain and I quickly shook my head, grabbing a bowl and mixing whatever contents are in it. The faster I stirred, the more I begged my mind to stop thinking about Donghyuck.

“You’re overwhipping the cream.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

On every page he turned to, the words blurred and all Donghyuck could see was her. She was more beautiful than he remembered. She’s much taller now, and he naturally smiles remembering when she used to argue that he was only taller than her by a centimeter. Her hair was also longer and not bound in her classic two braids. Though he didn’t get to see her smile, he was sure that it’s brighter than before. After all, everything about her seemed to have grown more beautiful than before. Donghyuck wonders if he should be calling her “Queen” now with how wonderfully she’s aged.

A delicate tap on his shoulder forces Donghyuck out of his lovestruck haze. “Prince Donghyuck, are you enjoying your book?”

He remembers that he’s in the library with one of his potential suitresses. He turns to her and almost wants to laugh. For the years that his childhood friend has been gone, it was the memory of her that invaded his mind whenever he was forced to go on these dates. But now that Donghyuck has seen her again in the flesh, he realizes how doomed he is and how these other princesses definitely don’t stand a chance.

During the fifteen years apart, Donghyuck’s gloom exacerbated the Queen’s determination to find him a future queen. Out of all his regular royal responsibilities, his courtships took the most time. He excels in all areas of his duties, but the one he can’t manage to succeed in is getting a wife. From playdates to formal dates, Donghyuck aged and remained single. And both he and the head baker knew why.

Despite the Queen’s warnings to never enter the kitchen, Donghyuck found himself there every week whether it was to steal extra mango tarts or ask about the baker’s granddaughter. It was usually after failed dates when he’d trudge into the kitchen, completely drained of energy, and beg the baker to talk to him about his first love. Questions about where she is, how she’s doing, and whether she thinks of him spill from his mouth, and the baker would entertain him every time. Even if he only knew and could only remember the child version of her, Donghyuck still managed to compare her to every suitress he met. None of them stood a chance against his princess. And though with time he could recognize how silly this infatuation had gotten, he grew fatigued of courtship and this was the easiest way to go about it. The grandmother was wary of this long overrun connection as well, but at the same time commended him for his commitment to her granddaughter. She also didn’t have the heart to tell him to move on.

And now Donghyuck’s here, on another date and he actually has an image, a real person, to be thinking of.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think this is going to work out.”

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“So you are hiding from me?”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” I drop the bowl of frosting at my feet and scramble to pick it up. A pair of far too expensive shoes enter my vision. I shoot up and my heart races, knowing exactly who it is.

“My prince,” I bow, meeting the ground once more. I stand upright and give him a passing smile.

“I like hearing you say that,” The Prince smirks. He swiftly scoops a finger of frosting before popping it in his mouth.

“Formalities,” I respond and I move the bowl out of his reach.

He chuckles and he starts to fiddle with an apron left on the counter.

“So you’ve been visiting at nighttime. Are you actually avoiding me?” He looks at me like he’s challenging me to say no.

Yes. “No, I just prefer the kitchen at night.” I clutch the frosting bowl tighter and focus my attention on what’s salvageable.

“You mean my kitchen… which you’ve been sneaking into with the help of my guard.” I can feel that he’s moved closer and I wince.

“Yes… I’m sorry. My grandma said it’d be okay and my kitchen at the bakery isn’t finished being built. If you’d like me to stop coming, I can.” I start to untie my apron and his hand catches my wrist.

“No,” He blurts out. “There’s no need. Feel free to use the kitchen.” The Prince raises his hands in the air as if to give me permission. I politely nod and go back to fixing my frosting, ignoring the tingling I feel on my wrist.

He doesn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he puts on the apron from the counter and leans in to watch.

“Um, what are you doing?” The Prince is tapping the table and humming as he stares at me.

“Hanging out,” He says matter-of-factly.

“I see,” And that’s all that I can say because who am I to kick the Prince out of his own kitchen? So I just mix and continue doing my thing.

“Just like the old days. You do remember, right?” I make the mistake of looking up and meeting his eyes. He’s looking at me like his question meant more than just a test of my memory.

“Vaguely… It was a long, long time ago.” A time I don’t wish to relive.

There’s a short pause before The Prince replies.

“Well, I remember. I think I’ll always remember. You were my best friend… And those were probably the best days of my life.” He doesn’t look at me when he says this. In fact, he looks nervous to be admitting it in the first place.

All I can do is nod, not knowing what to say to his confession. Especially when the feeling I get when I look back on those times is not as positive.

“Anyway… I’m planning on recreating those times.” Without thinking, I meet his eyes and he’s smiling hopefully. “So don’t try to hide from me next time. I’ll be here whenever you are. Think of it as your payment for using the kitchen.”

The uneasiness and warmth in my stomach are hard to decipher. The thought of spending more time with him is thrilling and terrifying at the same time. I try to ease my nerves by mixing even harder and he notices before laughing.

With my unspoken agreement, we spend the rest of the night in silence, just in each other’s presence. Every now and then he steals a bite of my makings and tries to lighten the air with a poorly made joke. And I don’t hold my laughter back.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“And then, once the frosting is on, you can add the strawberries.” I demonstrate by putting the nicely sliced strawberries on in a thin layer.

“When are you going to teach me how to make the mango tart?” The Prince pouts and bites the strawberries instead of putting them on the cake. I scowl and move the bowl away from him.

“When are you going to stop eating my ingredients?”

He smirks and taps the counter, “When are you going to stop using my kitchen?” He tilts his head to the side to goad me.

I roll my lips into my mouth and stuff another strawberry in his face when he laughs.

“Eat up,” I say sickeningly sweet.

Completely out of my control, my hangouts with Prince Donghyuck have returned. However, this time, I know he’s the prince and instead of every day in the morning, it’s 2 to 3 times a week at night. My excuse is that my kitchen in the bakery isn’t done being built, but to be completely honest, I could have it done by the end of the week. Maybe it’s because I enjoy my time with the Prince or maybe it’s because I actually do want the extra amenities I asked to be installed last minute… who knows? The end conclusion is that I find myself in the palace’s kitchen more often than I intended, and I find myself enjoying the Prince’s company more than I intended.

“Okay, your highness. Do you think you can stack these layers evenly?”

He gives me a playful salute, mouth full of cream, as he hops off the kitchen counter. He stands by my side and takes the cake from my hands.

“You know… as much as I like hearing you call me ‘your highness,’ why don’t you ever call me by my name anymore?”

“Because now I know you’re the Prince.” And I don’t know how it feels to have your name roll off my tongue as it did before, I think to myself.

The Prince lets out a low whistle. “Do you see me differently?” He trains his eyes to the level of the cake to get it precisely right. I watch him from above.

“It’s been fifteen years… so yes, I do see you differently.” I move to mix more frosting to coat the cake with.

“Okay,” He nods, thinking about my response. “So me being the Prince isn’t part of it?” He glances at me quickly with what I can assume is worry before he goes to add another layer of cake.

“Mmm… It is. Not a big part, but definitely a part. I think it’s mainly because you’ve grown up, We’ve both grown up. Maybe me more than you,” I tease. He sticks his tongue out at me and I make a face back. “Example number one.”

He finishes putting on the last layer and stands up straight to admire his work.

“What makes me different than before?” He takes the frosting bowl from my hands and begins icing the cake like I’ve taught him a couple of days ago. I take this as a break and I lift myself up to sit on the counter, dangling my feet.

“You’re taller than me, for one,” he gasps in fake shock and I hit him on the shoulder.

“You’re dressed nicer.”

“That’s not a compliment for me, that’s a compliment for my stylist,” He corrects me.

“True, okay. You’re smarter than before, I can see you’re not skipping your tutoring sessions. And… you’re not as cute.”

At that, he perks up, frosting is long forgotten. “What do you mean I’m not as cute?” And with the face he’s making, I almost take back my words.

“Well, your highness, you were a boy before. Of course, you’re not cute now. You’re a man.” I roll my eyes as if that were the most obvious thing.

“If I’m not cute, then what am I?” He squints at me and I can tell I’ve fallen into a trap.

“You’re… You’re handsome. Now,” I mutter out. I quickly clear my throat and point to a bald spot on the cake. “Hey, you missed a spot.”

Without even looking at him, I know he’s smiling. “You think I’m handsome.”

“Alright,” I drag out the word. “You’re the Prince. Aren’t you supposed to be handsome so you can woo and marry a pretty princess?”

“Not exactly. Being ridiculously handsome isn’t a royal requirement.”

I let out a scoff, “When did I say ‘ridiculously handsome’?”

“You didn’t have to, I see it on your face.” He taps my cheek and I suddenly notice how close our faces have gotten. Before I know it, my face is blooming pink again and I can feel the warmth shoot from my head to the rest of my body. I launch myself back and adjust my apron. And he stares at me like he’s won.

“Okay, your turn. What’s different about me?” I look around the kitchen to get my heart to settle down. What is happening?

The Prince doesn’t hesitate. “Well, you’re just as beautiful as you were before. Maybe even more.”

I gasp at his words and look him in the eyes. There’s no hint of his typical teasing attitude; he looks completely genuine. My mind goes blank and my ability to respond is rendered useless. He seems to notice that so he brushes off his comment quickly, thinking he’s overstepped.

“Anyways, since we’ve discovered that the only thing that makes me different from before is that I’m exceptionally more handsome-”

“Didn’t say that.”

“-Then why don’t you just call me ‘Donghyuck.’ Like you did before.”

Maybe it’s because he called me beautiful. Maybe it’s because I like the idea of exclusively calling him ‘Donghyuck.’ Or maybe I’m excited to eat the cake we just made, but my heart is fluttering quicker than it ever has.

“Okay. Donghyuck.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“FIRE! DONGHYUCK! FIRE, FIRE!”

“OH SHIT!”

Watching the medium sized fire bursting from the top of the pot, I run to the fire extinguisher. I’m scrambling to grab it, swift to squeeze the white dust all over the burning stove, despite the dough covering my hands. I hear Donghyuck’s screams in the back and he’s grabbing my shoulders to hide. Once I see the last flame get coated, I drop the extinguisher on the ground, exhausted.

I feel his hands digging into my shoulder blades and I grab him by the jacket, turning him to face me. Knowing how to cover his ass, he smiles in shame, rubbing my arm.

“I swear I was watching the stove,” He whips out his baby voice and try my best not to smack the side of his head. He’s the Prince. He’s the Prince. He’s the Prince, I repeat to myself.

“Your looks distracted me.” I slap him anyways.

He groans in pain, even though I could’ve slapped harder and I cross my arms to look as threatening as possible.

“You burnt the caramel,” I whine, staring at the black tar in my brand new pot. “And my pot!”

He immediately attacks me with a hug, shaking me around, mumbling apologies. “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise! I’ll buy you three! Four? Seven!”

“Make it eight,” I huff, tearing his arms off me, only to weirdly miss them.

He gasps, hands against his head in shock. “You definitely dressed prettier today just so I could set your pot on fire and buy you twenty more… You’re evil,” He looks at me like I’ve masterminded the biggest robbery of the century.

I narrow my eyes at him, lifting my hand to smack him again. “And you’re on timeout. No more baking today.” I start putting away the dishes I had ready.

“Hey! Who’s older here?” Donghyuck begins helping me sort the supplies into the pantry.

“I’m pretty sure I am,” I say, trying to remember if we told each other our birthdays back then.

“When were you born?”

“May.”

“Shit,” He mutters. He tosses the burnt pot into the trashcan, wincing at the char. “Okay, let’s keep the ball rolling. What’s your favorite color?”

I laugh, “Really? Also should I save this dough for tomorrow when we try again?” I hold it up to show him and inspects it.

“Yeah, why not? Just wear a trashbag or something tomorrow.” I kick him in the foot and he chuckles. “But yes, really. What’s your favorite color? I like red.”

“Purple,” I play along while saran wrapping the dough. “Favorite food?”

“Kimchi jjigae,” he spits out, with no hesitation. I nod along, remembering all the times he’s requested it as a midnight snack while we bake. “What do you like to do besides baking?”

“I like to go on walks. When I moved out of the city and with my dad, we lived near the beach. It was nice to just walk on the shore only five minutes away from me. I miss it sometimes. I should probably visit soon.” I tap the bowl mindlessly, trying to figure out my schedule.

“You should take me,” Donghyuck says. He’s right next to me now. “I always wondered where you went after I stopped seeing you. I assumed you were still in the city, until your grandma told me you moved-moved.”

“Ohh, no, yeah. I moved. It was hard leaving everything I knew, but at the same time, I learned so much when I was there with my dad. Come with me next time, and we can hangout on the beach. Nothing should be too flammable there.” I tease, bumping his hip with mine. He laughs with me, but I can tell his mind is somewhere else. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks almost guilty.

“You know, when I found out you were the Prince, I wrote down a list of questions. I was so excited to see what your life is like.”

This grabbed his attention and my heart eased seeing his eyes light up a little more. The kitchen was relatively clean now, so I decided to prop myself up on the counter. Donghyuck always gets mad at the sudden height difference, but I can tell he loves it when he naturally wedges himself between my thighs like he does right now.

“Yeah? Do you remember any?” His hands were pinned on either side of my hips, forearms pressed against my outer thighs. It’s comfortable. I’m not sure when we got so comfortable. “This is kind of like ‘Princess and The Pauper.’”

I snort trying to remember my list. “I think I wanted to know how many crowns you had.”

“Classic question. I’m pretty sure I have three. My head’s kinda small, so it actually takes awhile for them to make it.”

I hum, investigating his head. “I can tell.”

“Mean.” He lightly pinches my thigh and I stop staring at his skull.

“I also wanted to know if you had any royal pets.”

“A cute, small, white dog. Yep.” He nods, like he’s impressed with himself for having such a basic dog and I have to laugh.

“Any cool cars?”

“Tons,” He brags. “Okay, what does ‘Adult You’ want to know?”

There’s always been a question I wanted to ask him since I started hanging out with him again. It nagged in the back of my mind as I watched him, always happy, always cheering everyone on. Despite his bright facial expressions and body language, I could tell it was tiring, it must be. I never imagined the royal life to be hard, or as hard as my own, until I met him again.

I look at his face, checking for any signs that I shouldn’t be asking him. But he looks at me with such softness and openness, that I don’t hesitate to ask.

“Are you happy? Like… do you like being the Prince?”

His eyes widened at my question and he looks down at my lap to think. He takes longer than I expect, and I assume no one has ever bothered to ask. His silence is telling.

“Hey…,” I reach for his face to lift his chin up. “It’s okay to say you’re not. You don’t have to be all the time.”

He flinches like this was a concept he couldn’t accept for himself. I grab his face a little tighter so he really hears me.

“As long as you’re at least looking for your happiness, that’s all that matters,” I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “You deserve all the happiness, Hyuck.”

I can see his mind slowly wrapping around my words as something in his face shifts. He looks hesitant for a different reason.

“And what if I find my happiness in you?” I gasp, instinctively letting go of his face slightly. He’s fast to bring his hand up to keep mine there. His fingers slot between my gaps. He looks desperate to keep me here.

Knowing my words hold immense weight, I still don’t stop myself from saying, “Then I’ll be that for you, in whatever way I can.”

Despite me being vague, Donghyuck takes all that he can. His face blooms into a smile and I return it, knowing it was cause of me. He holds my hand this time and brings it down to my lap, sighing happily.

“Thank you.”

And for a split second, I’m scared for what I’ve promised. After all, he’s the prince and I’m the pauper.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

Donghyuck is the happiest he has ever been. Unlike how it was when he was a kid, he’s attending his classes, his meetings, and even having lunches with the princesses the Queen sends over. However, he can’t promise that these dates are leading up to a potential marriage. He’s doing just enough so that his mother doesn’t get suspicious. Best of all, for most nights, he gets to sneak into the kitchen and talk, bake, and laugh for hours.

The secret hangouts are going amazingly. He can tell she’s warming up to him as she did back then or maybe it’s just the fire from the oven heating up the place. Last week, the kitchen at her new bakery finally finished being built and he knows this because he hired his staff to make sure the job was done well without telling her. That day he expected her to come in and tell him that she had to stop seeing him, but she still showed up like clockwork – two to three times a week.

Next week, her bakery is set to have its grand opening and Donghyuck hopes this isn’t what actually stops her from coming to see him. He’s even practiced his baking skills on his own and eaten less of the fruit while they’re together in hopes it doesn’t make her want to leave again. And so for the following week, Donghyuck is treading carefully.

“Do you need help with that, Princess?”

“Should I preheat the oven for you?”

“Here, let me tie your apron.”

“I’ll carry that for you.”

All of these mini acts of chivalry are met with a suspicious gaze and a light dusting of red on her cheeks. Donghyuck feels a sense of achievement whenever she accepts his help. And this all leads up to the night before her grand opening.

Donghyuck is lighting the last candle when the sound of keys unlocking the side kitchen door is heard. He quickly blows out the match before scurrying behind the table to greet her with a “Surprise!”

“Donghyuck! Don’t do that! God, I thought I was caught for sneaking in.”

He rolls his eyes at her lackluster reaction and reorients himself.

“I said… Surprise!” He dramatically waves his arms around to show all the work he put into decorating the kitchen. She finally notices her surroundings and her eyes light up. Donghyuck can feel his heart soften, compared to how it was racing earlier trying to set all of this up without his staff.

“What… what is all of this?” Her hands are covering her mouth in disbelief. There are streamers and fairy lights gracing the walls and candles are littered all around the room. Donghyuck is standing in the center with a single cupcake in his hands.

“Congrats. I heard from the grapevine that your bakery opens tomorrow.” She laughs at his theatrics and sets her bag down to look at the cupcake he’s made. In messy red font, the top of the treat reads the name of her bakery. She almost wants to tear up.

“Only one? Are we sharing?” She takes the cupcake from his hands and he tries not to think too hard about her fingers touching his.

“Well, I made that myself, and I personally don’t trust that I didn’t mess up the recipe in some way. So if anyone’s getting food poisoning tonight, it’d be you.” He taps her nose. “Eat up!”

At that, her jaw drops and she keeps the cupcake at a distance as if it’s some nuclear substance.

“Do you secretly want me dead?” She laughs.

“Hey, when it comes down to a royal and a baker. The baker’s going.” Donghyuck mimics his throat being slit and bites his lip to stop himself from smiling too hard. He loves to mess with her.

“You are the worst. Way to look out for your people, your highness.” She begins to unwrap the cupcake, taking a sniff out of precaution.

“‘Your Highness’? Aw, Princess, don’t be like that.” He moves closer to her and she shifts back, tutting.

“Nope. As a baker under your kingdom, I will gladly sacrifice myself by eating this cupcake. Alone.” She dramatically curtsies before going in for a hesitant bite.

Donghyuck swiftly beats her to it and takes a large bite out of the other end as her lips touch the cupcake. Her eyes widen in shock and he sends her a wink before brushing the crumbs off his mouth.

“Now you can’t tell me I don’t care about my people,” He says while chewing the weird texture of his creation. Donghyuck smirks at the deer-in-headlights reaction she has on her face.

She gulps, shaking her head so that her hair hides her blush. She sets the cupcake down, not wanting a reminder of how close his face just was.

“Well, it’s edible,” She jokes. Donghyuck’s tongue prods the inside of his mouth as he takes in what was supposedly a compliment.

“Says the one who took the smallest bite known to man,” He accuses, pointing at the cupcake.

“How was I supposed to take a bigger one when you practically shoved your face into it and devoured half?” Once again, she’s reminded of what just transpired and feels her cheeks growing warm.

“Ooo, did I make you flustered? Scared your lips were about to touch mine?” Donghyuck takes a step closer and brushes a nonexistent crumb off her lip with his thumb. He hopes she doesn’t feel his heart pounding like fireworks.

Like she can sense his fake confidence, she grabs his wrist. “Is that what you were thinking about when you took a bite? Kissing me?” She tilts her head to the side and his whole body buzzes.

Before he could crumble even further, he tears his hand out of hers. “Please. Like I’d let anyone touch these royal lips.” He turns around to calm himself down and pretends to busy himself with something on the fridge.

He hears her laugh behind him. “I bet they’re not as sweet as a baker’s.”

He turns around and narrows his eyes at her. “How did this grand opening celebration turn into you messing with me?” Accepting defeat, he resorts to fake anger and his signature pout.

“You started it,” She playfully rolled her eyes. “Anyways…”

With the softest smile, she says, “Thank you, Hyuck. I really appreciate you.”

He returns it, “Always.”

The rest of the night is filled with laughter and playful bickering as the two avoid finishing the mysteriously textured cupcake. Donghyuck makes multiple attempts to pit the blame on her as the teacher, and the soon-to-be bakery owner fails to leave and sleep early at the expense of the Prince’s whines. To be honest, the lack of sleep was worth it if she got to spend more time with him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Now that the bakery is well past its grand opening and flourishing greatly, I’ve gotten my days back. My employees are well-trained and seasoned and I feel comfortable taking days off when I need to. Oddly, my new opened-up schedule was somehow sensed by Donghyuck and I was invited to the palace during the daytime for the first time ever. I was nervous at first to be sneaking in in broad daylight, but he assured me that if I followed the steps he gave me exactly, I’d be fine – not that reassuring.

As written in his note, I greeted Yunseo, the guard, as usual, and he gave me weird looks, going back and forth between the sun and my face.

“You know the sun is out, right?” He asked, still looking at me funny.

I gave him the most incredulous look. “You’re joking? It’s not nighttime?” I made an effort to crazily look around and he sighed.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” He shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d switch things up,” I shrugged, not wanting to reveal who I was meeting.

Yunseo nodded, “Fair… okay, be careful, okay? The palace feels a little frantic today.” With that, he opened the gates for me and I gave him a smile.

“You’re the best. Make sure to stop by sometime this week, I have pastries for you.” I waved goodbye as he promised to come.

Following Donghyuck’s poorly drawn-out map, I realized our meeting point isn’t the kitchen and that he’s taking me on an obscure path that the Queen and King definitely are not aware exists. As I walk through centuries-old, dimly lit stone walls, I think about how many times Donghyuck has used these secret passageways and if little Donghyuck used these when he snuck out to see me, 15 years ago. I can imagine 7-year-old Donghyuck discovering these routes within the castle’s walls.

“Stop right there!” A voice echoes through the abandoned hallway.

My heart spazzes and as loud as my brain is yelling at me to run, my feet don’t budge. I curse under my breath and crumple Donghyuck’s map in my hands, remembering to kill him unless I die right here. And if I do happen to die here, then I have to make sure I return as a ghost, haunting that man for life. I turn around slowly, eyes half closed, to see who’s behind me, but there’s no one there. There’s no one in the passageway at all. I whip around a few more times to confirm and I notice a crack in the wall to my right. It’s a peephole overlooking the actual palace hallways.

Out of curiosity, I look through and I see the Queen, face as red as the beautiful gown she adorns.

“Prince Lee Donghyuck,” his name is spat out like bile. “You will follow my orders.”

Coming into view, I see Donghyuck. He and the Queen are in the middle of a heated argument. His head is hung low and I can see him playing with his sleeves like he does when he gets anxious. I wish to reach for him, but then I remember the wall separating us.

“Your majesty, I… I can’t. I don’t want to,” He hiccups, and if I can’t see the tears on his face, I can hear them. “I never did.”

The space in my chest feels as tight and narrow as the walkway I’m in and I want to look away, but I can’t.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. You are the Prince and you are expected to marry a Princess. How dare you fool me for all these years?” As the Queen, she still carries her natural elegance, but her words burn like acid. She’s speaking to him at a normal volume, but her tone pierces your ears.

“I-I didn’t mean to fool you. I tried my best, but I don’t love them. I don’t love the suitresses you send. And I need you to understand that I never will.” Donghyuck finally looks up and I can see the desperation in his eyes from where I stand.

“Love?,” The Queen laughs bitterly. “I don’t need you to love them. You just need to marry one. As the Prince, what makes you think you have the privilege of being in love? Not when you have a country to rule.” There’s less anger in her words and more disappointment.

Donghyuck winces, looking like he’s fighting back what he wants to say. His bottom lip is trembling and the grip he has on his sleeves is tight. His whole body practically shakes. Eventually, he lets go.

“If I’m not meant to love someone, then explain to me why I already do. Explain to me why I love her? Explain to me why I can’t have her?!”

Tears are rolling down his cheeks like heavy rainfall. “I never asked for this!” He screams, and I wonder to which he’s referring to.

My body is sweaty like I ran a mile and I feel like my breathing can be heard through the wall. He never mentions my name, but I know, I can feel, that he’s talking about me. My whole body is buzzing and I don’t know whether to feel ecstatic or sad. Despite my confusion, one feeling is clear: fear. Before I can hear what the Queen has to say, I run.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

“Oh God. Sorry, I was supposed to get here before you. I was supposed to be part of the surprise,” He smiles meekly, praying the puffiness from crying doesn’t make him look strange. He accidentally sniffles and hopes she blames it on the flowers and his chronic allergies.

She’s sitting in the garden chair next to the tea table Donghyuck had set up an hour ago. He scoped out a secluded spot in the royal garden and slowly put everything together. He moves to sit down across from her and she’s staring intently at the cup in front of her.

“I asked Gran what your favorite tea is and brewed some for us. I know I don’t have your baking skills, but if we get hungry, we can sneak back to the kitchen,” he playfully winks, trying to hide the fact that he was in the worst state five minutes ago. Although he can’t bake, he can definitely make a good batch of tea. He hopes it hasn’t gone cold.

He waits for a response, but she’s still frozen, chewing the inside of her cheek. Maybe he’s still on edge from his argument with the Queen, but she doesn’t look happy. This is definitely not the reaction he was expecting.

“Do you wanna try the tea? I bet it’ll amaze you so much, you’ll beg me for the recipe,” he teases. The teapot hovers over her cup, but she makes no move to accept it.

“Okay, no tea. That’s fine,” Donghyuck chooses to laugh it off. “Do you wanna walk around? Most of the garden is secluded so we don’t have to worry about someone catching us.”

“Would that be so bad?” The first words she whispers strike him with confusion. Her voice is dry like she just strained it.

“Huh?” He tilts his head, scooting his chair in closer to hear her.

“Would that be so bad?” She says, unable to bate her anger. “Being caught with me? Would his royal highness hate being found walking with me?”

“Hey,” Donghyuck grabs her hand from her lap, interlocking his fingers. “What’s going on?” She tears her hand out from his hold like it stung and he feels like he’s making mistake after mistake.

“I-I’m sorry, is this too much? I wanted to do something nice for our first date outside of the kitchen. Was this a mistake?” He starts to stack the plates, quickly discarding his work. “I usually don’t plan these myself, so I’m sorry if this is bad. I-”

Donghyuck sees her wince in his peripheral and feels her hand on his wrist as he’s about to haphazardly dump the tea in the bushes. Her hands are cold today.

“Date?” The word leaves her mouth as if it made her sick.

The alarms go off in Donghyuck’s mind. “Date? Did I say date? Sorry, I actually mean-”

“Donghyuck,” she cuts him off. He can see her harshly swallow. “Why are you doing this?”

He blinks. “I… I wanted to do something nice for us. It doesn’t have to be romantic if you don’t want it to be. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Donghyuck can feel himself beginning to ramble.

“No. Why have you been hanging out with me? If it’s because you feel guilty about ditching me all those years ago, forget about it. I don’t care anymore.” She looks at him with so much intensity, not only trying to convince him, but convince herself that none of this matters.

“Princess, please. No, it’s not out of pity. You know that.” He shakes his head almost violently, begging her to believe his honest intentions. He was shocked he had to convince her in the first place, always assuming she knew his heart better than him.

Completely ignoring him, she continues, “And why aren’t you married yet?”

“W-what?” Similar to whiplash, Donghyuck feels like his brain has just been jostled. Are his ears tricking him and forcing him to relive the traumatic conversation he just had with his mother? Why is this topic being brought up?

“You’re the Prince,” she says like it’s an unwavering fact. “You’re meeting with princesses weekly. You’re meant to rule side by side as King and Queen. Why… why aren’t you married yet?” She asks and her eyes are ice cold like her hands.

She too closely resembles the older woman who was just yelling at him moments ago. The casing around his heart begins to harden and the feeling he gets from the girl in front of him is now anger. The same bitter taste returns in his mouth.

“Are you serious?” He looks at her and the Donghyuck she knows has washed away. Betrayal, rage, and sorrow are painted across his face. It was like she was looking through the peephole again.

“Don’t ask stupid questions you know the answers to,” he mutters, words barely making it past his tight lips. He’s breathing much harder than before.

“Answer me. Why. Aren’t. You. Married.” Her hands are gripping the edge of her knees to stop them from shaking.

Donghyuck stares at her for a long time, eyes flittering over every facial feature, confirming that she actually wants to hear the answer. Her face is firm and her question is set. He takes a deep, pained breath and leans back slightly.

“It’s because I love you.” Not like the confession he imagined in his head, Donghyuck reveals his long-term feelings like this was their end and not their new beginning. The period at the end of a sentence. The last page of a hardcover book. The last second on a timer.

She simply nods, stiff in the neck. She excuses herself before standing up, bowing, and walking away.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“That’ll be $6.06. Would you like your receipt?”

The cash register dings with another purchase and I slump back in my chair as the customer leaves. It was a slow and agonizing shift with only two more hours till closing. It’s also been a slow and agonizing two weeks.

I’m haunted by what went down at the royal garden almost every hour of the day. At first, I was using every chance I could get to skip work and wallow at home. But suddenly the plants in my room reminded me of him and the teacups in my cabinets smelled like the tea he prepared for us. So for the second week, I decided to dedicate myself to work. I’ve been coming in every single day and overworking myself to the point where my employees don’t know what to do but stand around. I debate whether or not to let them leave early when a familiar head of brown hair walks in. My heart picks up its pace and it’s like the teacups all over again.

“Donghyu- oh. Hi, welcome!” I smile wide, trying to hide the previous disappointment drawn on my face. The customer gives me an awkward smile back and begins browsing the pastry racks as I mentally slap myself.

I slump down to the floor behind the counter and silently groan in my hands. Why does every male brunette customer these past two weeks remind me of him? And why are there so many of them? Like every other time I’ve confused a customer with Donghyuck, the guilt begins to creep back into my system and I get flashbacks of our last conversation.

“Why aren’t you married?,” I mock my own voice. “Are you stupid?” I repeatedly hit my palms against my head when I hear a ding from the counter bell. I quickly shoot up and brush the bangs out of my face, hoping the customer thinks I’m at least slightly normal.

“Hi, how can I hel- Grandma!” On instinct, I glance behind her, foolishly hoping he’s hiding behind her tiny frame, and my shoulders slump when I’m met with no one. So now I’m really imagining him.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, composing myself.

“Just checking in on you. I notice you haven’t been coming to the kitchen because when I come in in the mornings, my counter is actually clean,” she jokes. I smile sheepishly and nervously adjust the apron string around my neck.

“Sorry, it’s usually Donghyuck’s fault,” I quickly clear my throat, answering a little too fast. “The Prince, I mean.”

Grandma’s eyebrows shoot up at the mention of his name and she looks down at her feet, suddenly fidgety. I notice her change in demeanor instantly.

“Speaking of him…”

“We don’t need to,” I cut her off. “Speak about him, I mean.” I wince at how suspicious my words sound.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’m just curious… if anything happened between you two.” She whispers the last part, looking back at the customer to make sure he can’t hear. She clears her throat and steps behind the counter with me, naturally rearranging the bread in the display case. She busies herself while encouraging me to speak.

I gnaw on my lip, tapping the counter, debating if I should finally talk it out with someone. I’ve only been talking to my employees about bread starters and yeast.

“We fought.” I admit.

“About?” Grandma loads the case with more bread. I start passing them to her one by one.

“He told me… he told me he loved me.” I press my lips together and I hear her head hit the top of the display case and the bread hit the floor. “Grandma! Are you okay?”

I crouch down, grabbing the top of her head to inspect, and she’s giving me the most incredulous look.

“He told you he loved you?!” She squealed at an embarrassingly non-discrete volume, making the customer drop the pastry in his hands. He’s looking around, frazzled, and I can see him debate whether or not he should pick it back up.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll clean it up!” I screamed from behind the counter.

“Grandma, keep it down,” I curse through my teeth.

She’s rubbing her head and shaking it in either pain or confusion.

“I know, I know. A Prince saying he’s in love with the baker’s granddaughter is farfetched and unrealistic. I get it.” It’s what has been circling through my brain every day.

“That’s not what I’m confused about, dear.” She looks like she’s debating what to say next. “Did you not hear?”

“Hear what?” At the end of my question, and like a universal sign, the door jingles and the mailman is rushing in, hair swept back by the wind.

“Sorry! I forgot to drop this off this morning. It’s urgent mail.” He salutes and is out the door as quickly as he enters.

On the counter is a letter with the royal stamp. My stomach feels queasy assuming this is the first contact I’ve had from Donghyuck since our fight, but I can’t help the naive smile that breaks out on my face. I rush to open it, not worrying about the papercuts. Every doubt that was just in my head disappeared and my grandma interjects, hoping to bring me back down from my high.

“Sweetie, wait. I need to tell you that-”

To the owner of Princess Bakery,

Prince Lee Donghyuck will be celebrating his union with Princess Nam Soohae on 26 May, 2023 at the royal garden grounds. The royal family requests a wedding cake to be made with your expertise and culinary skills.

Please accept this royal assignment with details soon to come.

Signed,

The Lees

The words on the page silenced me and my thoughts, my breaths barely leaving my lips. My eyes kept darting across the paper; the calligraphed words are being repeated over and over again in my brain.

Prince Lee Donghyuck.

His union.

Wedding cake.

Realization finally dawns that this isn’t the love letter or apology I was expecting from Prince Donghyuck. A breath finally escapes and it’s shaky as it wavers in the air like an offkey music note. A heart-stopping pain envelopes my chest and it seizes up to my eyes. The whites of the paper burn my irises. I catch a teardrop splattering onto the parchment. I’m haunted with images of Donghyuck at the altar with someone else. And then I’m thinking about the garden. And us.

Surprise.

Our first date.

Because I love you.

Because he loves me? Because Prince Lee Donghyuck loves me? Prince Lee Donghyuck who is getting married to an actual princess in a week? Suddenly, it feels like the floor’s unsteady and the oven temperature was turned up to the highest. The letter wrinkles between my fingers and the ink smudges with salty tears.

This is what I was afraid of. And yet this is what I set myself up for. I knew I should have stopped seeing him. I knew it the moment mango tarts began to remind me of him. The moment my secret ingredient of love found in every bake was powered by him and his place in my heart. Even though I meant to stop this from happening during our talk in the royal garden, that small teaspoon of hope was still sprinkled in my mind. That hope stayed every time I saw a plant, a teacup, or a brunette. But now it’s dissolved.

A new feeling washes over me. One that I haven’t felt once these past two weeks. Not false hope. Not heartbreak. And not regret.

Anger.

“Don’t blame him.”

My grandma’s words slice through the red and her hands on my arms attempt to calm me down. I look up through wet lashes, lips trembling.

“Donghyuck… Prince Donghyuck had no say. The royals… they never do.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my grandma?” I clench my jaw to stop the shaking, slightly regretting my bitter words.

Her grip is softer. “Oh honey, I am. And that’s why I’m telling you not to waste this energy on being mad at him. What you guys share is beautiful, don’t let this taint it.” She takes the letter out of my hands and physically turns me to face her.

“Shared,” I corrected her.

“Share,” She corrects me. “Your love for each other is seen by everyone. I know it can’t flourish the way love is supposed to, but at least cherish it for what it was.”

Her words reintroduce more feelings. Sorrow. Frustration.

“I was really hoping this time it works out…” She voices my thoughts.

At this point, I’m hiccupping between breaths, caught between reliving the past and hearing these explanations. The world was never meant to have us together it seems. But at least I was told this time we had an ending.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next royal letter came two days after the first, and I was called to spend a week in the royal palace to test out different wedding cakes. I essentially had no choice but to say yes as the royal chauffeurs picked me up every morning to take me there. It felt like those sunrises with my grandma when I was seven but the butterflies in my stomach turned into bees. Unlike the past, I prayed I wouldn’t run into Prince Donghyuck, but with him having requested I make his cake, I’m sure he knows I’m here.

My grandma designated a portion of the kitchen to me as the head baker and it mimicked the old days as much as it could. That was until I got a visitor on the second day.

“Good morning! I’m Princess Nam Soohae.”

My eyes widened and my whisk fell out of my grasp as I took in her presence. She’s beautiful. She’s an actual princess. Her bright, toothy smile would’ve made anyone smitten if it weren’t for the fact that she was about to marry the man I loved. The pretty pink dress she wore was tinted green through my eyes. I shook my head, trying to remind myself of my place.

“Good morning,” I bowed. “I’m the baker in charge of your wedding cake.” My smile faltered only slightly with the mention of the union.

She giggles and I almost want to laugh with her. “I know that, silly. I was sent by the Queen to sample some. Or should I say my future mother-in-law.” She bites her perfectly manicured nail with excitement.

Soohae leans her hands on the counter and peers at the bowl in my hand.

“Is there any to try right now?” Her head surveys the kitchen like a kid looking for cookies. It’s genuinely hard to dislike her.

“Um, I have a few cakes placed to the side to cool right now. There’s no frosting on it yet, but I’m sure it’d be good to try the base first!” I move to grab one of the trays and she flutters to follow me.

“Ooooh!” She gushes. “I’m so excited to try it. My own wedding cake, can you believe it?”

“No.” I almost drop the cake. “I mean, yes? Sorry. Getting married to the one you love is… it’s a crazy thing.” I cut a piece of cake and place it on a plate for her.

She doesn’t hesitate to take a bite and as she chews, she thinks.

“I don’t love him yet, to be honest. This cake is really good, by the way.” I start cutting a slice from the other cake to sample. “But I know I will love him eventually. I already get butterflies when I look at him. I trust that he’s the one for me, I mean have you seen him?”

Before I can agree, and thank god she doesn’t give me a second to, she continues, “I know it’s silly for a person in my position to believe in the one. But I really, really do think it could be him. The other day he brought me my favorite flowers, like how did he know?!” She pops a bite of the other cake in and her eyes light up.

“Oh this is the one! Don’t even think about giving me another,” The Princess reaches for another bite and applauds me.

I laugh and make sure to note to go with the lemon base and not the mango one. As my hands are about to toss the mango cake away, my mind stops me and I consider whether Donghyuck would prefer this instead. The clanking of the Princess’s fork on the plate, finishing the lemon cake slice till it’s crumbs, reels me back and I let the cake fall into the garbage. It feels eerily like a metaphor.

For the rest of the week, Princess Soohae visits me and taste tests the frosting, fondant, and other things she wants. With every passing day, I hear more about Haechan and I can feel that her words have turned fonder. Coincidentally, her sweet tooth has gotten worse and the final components of the wedding cake are a complete sugar bomb like her personality.

On my final day, the Queen joins her. The last time I saw her majesty, she was berating the Prince as I secretly watched. It felt like I was in that hidden passageway again as she watches me prepare a slice of the wedding cake for her. My hands shake, placing the plate down in front of her and her gaze is sharp. It’s interesting how harsh her energy is when her facial features are as soft as the Prince’s. She looks like she’s been through a lot and I wonder if Donghyuck will experience the same thing when he fulfills his role as King. Like she can tell I’m thinking about him, The Queen’s eyes narrow.

“I hope you enjoy,” I bow, and she doesn’t say a word. Princess Soohae on the other hand is completely bubbling over how good it turned out and how her guests are sure to love it too.

The Queen simply nibbles on a piece and nods along. The black and white vibes almost give me whiplash as I stand there, watching the two of them. A sweat forms on my hairline and I’m internally glad this is my last day. I can’t go through this any longer.

And like a karmic jinx, the kitchen door opens and a familiar brunette walks in. This time, it is him.

“Oh my! Prince Donghyuck!” Princess Soohae scrambles off her chair and bows both gracefully and clumsily. I bow as well, trying hard to hide the immediate blush on my face I get whenever I see him. I wonder if I can stay bowing so I don’t have to meet his face. The last time we saw each other was when we talked at the royal garden, and as much as I prayed I wouldn’t run into him here, truthfully, a part of me also hoped I would.

As soon as I force myself to stand up straight, we lock eyes and the strain in my chest loosens like a snapped thread. I can feel my lungs fill with air and it’s relieving to see him again after so long. It hurts in the best way as I’m overwhelmed by his presence. That familiar brown waved hair, the sunkissed tan skin, and the plump smiley cheeks. Everything is how I left it but his expression is not one I expected. He’s in complete shock and I don’t know what to do but look around the room to find something that would cause such surprise. I quickly glance at the Queen, and for the first time since she sat down, there’s a small lift in the corner of her mouth. Is she smirking?

“Princess?” He tilts his head, still staring at me before he realizes what he just called me. “Princess! Princess Soohae! I came to get you.” He runs over to grab her hand and the lifted cheekbones on her face tells me she’s grinning.

“What- uh- what’s going on?” I’m fixated on the way he fiddles with her hand as he looks around the room for answers.

“Cake testing? How did you forget, silly?” Princess Soohae laughs as she playfully pats his cheeks. Everyone in the room can tell she’s head over heels and my stomach hurts. As I’m clutching my stomach and the Prince stares at me quizzically, there’s one person in the room watching all of this go down.

“She’s the wedding cake baker we outsourced, Prince Donghyuck.” The Queen says calmly, gesturing to me. She tells him like it’s his first time hearing this and I’m taken aback, my movements making the utensils on the table quiver slightly.

“He didn’t know?” My mouth was too quick to voice my thoughts. “His highness, I mean.” I bow in apology.

“No. No, I didn’t.” His hands are at his side now, gripping the fabric of his sleeves. The shock left his face and now he’s staring at me with pity and then silent anger when his head turns towards the Queen. My eyes follow his and she returns his look as if to challenge him to say more.

Completely obvious to the shift in atmosphere, Princess Soohae raves about the final wedding cake decisions and begs the Prince to try a bite. He turns her down without sparing a glance and asks her to leave with him. He doesn’t give me a second thought as he breaks eye contact with the Queen and drags his future wife away. There’s no stopping the ache that fills my chest again, slow but strong like the rising tide.

“So he still likes you.”

Snapped out of my haze, my ears don’t believe the words I hear coming from the Queen’s lips.

“Pardon?” She’s looking at me now and it’s a mixture of disappointment and disinterest etched on her face. The warmth on her face has depleted.

“My son. Prince Donghyuck. He still likes you,” she laughs dryly. “After all these years…”

My eyebrows furrow and I feel myself getting dizzy. Maybe this is all some sort of hallucination and the Queen isn’t talking to me right now. I grip the counter for support, and she doesn’t wait for me to respond.

“You know, I thought I handled the issue 15 years ago when I asked the head baker to stop bringing you here. I was stupid to think it would be that easy when he purposely sabotaged every date I set up for him the years after.”

She’s twirling the fork on the plate now and the scrapes make me flinch. The kitchen no longer feels like a safe space for me right now as her words slowly suffocate me.

“And when he started to actually go on these dates this year and report back to me that they’re going well? I was foolish to think it was him beginning to try. I saw you one day, back in this kitchen. Back in his life. It all made sense and it made me so angry.” Her hands grip the fork handle. They’re dainty, but if you look close, they’re calloused, indicating years of work. Her face appears the same. If it weren’t for the terrifying state I was in, I would’ve wanted to comfort her. She looks up at me, and I felt tinier than I did before, her eyes piercing into me.

“Do you not understand the life I’m trying to set up for Donghyuck? He’s the future king. He needs a queen, a real queen to survive in this world. As the queen, I know firsthand what he needs. My king wouldn’t be anywhere without me and his mother who set me up with him. You’re not fit for this role and you never will be.” She finally sets the fork down with a clatter.

“Listen to me, and let him go. It’s what’s best.” Her threatening nature fades as quickly as it came and she gracefully stands up, brushing the nonexistent debris on her gown. The Queen gives me one final look, waiting for me to bow and essentially agree, before leaving the kitchen.

The air returns and I grasp my chest to let myself breathe. Tears prick the corner of my eyes as I choke back sobs.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Remember, it’s the room on the right hallway. Third door. And if anyone sees you, don’t tell them I sent you. I’ll get in trouble.” My grandma hammers in the details one more time, waiting for me to nod in confirmation.

It’s the end of my final day and she asked me to deliver pastries to a room in the palace before I leave, saying her workload is too large to be going herself. I figured it’s one more thing I could do before I never step foot in the palace again. I almost turned her down earlier in fear of running into the Queen. Just the thought of that happening makes me feel sick, but I know I won’t be seeing her again after this anyways.

I scoff, “So you’d rather I get sent to the guillotine?” I tease her with an exaggerated horrified look.

She easily flicks my forehead, despite our height difference, and I grab it wincing. “You’re lucky I don’t chop off your head myself with that attitude of yours.” She sneers at me and I giggle.

“Fair…,” I playfully mutter, soothing the area between my brows.

Her directions sent me to a room with beautiful brown double doors. I smile at the two ladies standing outside of it and I’m about to explain why I’m here before they cut me off.

“Pastry delivery for the Prince?” They say in unison.

Like a horror movie, my jaw drops and I lose my instinct to run. One thing I do know is to make sure I yell at my grandma later as I nod and tell them they’re correct. She completely set me up.

On another occasion, I would’ve appreciated the doors to Prince Donghyuck’s bedroom more, but right now, they look like the gates of Hell. I attempt to swallow whatever saliva was left in my suddenly dry mouth as I brushed my hair out of my face. The ladies allow me to knock on the door. My palms are sweaty as I shakily knock on the varnished wood, hearing it echo into the space on the other side. His room must be huge.

No responses are heard. This was my out, but my body was telling me not to leave, even though my mind was screaming to run. Instead of knocking again, I turn the knob and almost wish it wasn’t unlocked, but it was.

There he is on the other side, scribbling at his desk. His back is facing me and I watch the muscles in them move with vigor. I haven’t seen him work this hard since he convinced me to teach him how to make a creme brulée and accidentally made scrambled eggs with the yolks.

I shut the door behind me and hope it catches his attention, but it doesn’t. I gulp, realizing how very real this situation is and I almost want to throw up knowing I have to speak.

“Hyuck.”

I hear him inhale and he spins quickly out of his chair to look at me. Different to how it felt seeing him in the kitchen earlier today, his face is softer, accepting my presence. My heart floats in my chest, wondering why I was so nervous to see him when just the sight of him oozes comfort. He looks at me like he’s feeling the same way. I see the longing in his eyes and the way they warm, I close my own to stop myself from giving in too much.

“Princess.”

His voice is fragile and his choice of words makes me shut my eyes harder, scared that I’d lose all my resilience and run straight into his arms. He doesn’t correct himself this time, and he says it again with more confidence.

I finally peel them open and force myself to act cold. Just an hour ago I was finishing his wedding cake; this fire has to be extinguished.

“Princess Soohae will make a great queen.” I move to set the pastry basket down on a table near me.

“It’s not what you think. I was going to-“ He turns around in a frenzy and grabs the paper he was just writing on. The Prince takes a step closer and it takes all my strength to recoil. It takes all of me not to be swayed by the obvious hurt on his face. This will be good for us, I have to remind myself.

My hand is up, drawing the line. “You don’t have to explain. It’s not what I’m here for.”

He hesitantly puts his arm down, eyebrow twitched in confusion. The paper is still in his hands.

“I got you a gift,” I partly smile. “A wedding gift and I guess, also… a goodbye gift.” With that statement, I break away from his stare, fixating on a corner in his grand room.

I hear paper wrinkling. “A goodbye gift?” His voice gets lower and it causes me to wince. It feels like all the tension in the room gathered in the small vacancy in my chest and the overwhelming pressure makes my eyes sting. I can already feel the tears build up as I play with the hem of my shirt.

“Mhm,” I painfully affirm. “The wedding cake. It’s both my gift and my goodbye. I thought you requested it when I first got the royal letter,” I laugh at the situation, trying to stop myself from letting him see me cry.

“Turns out it wasn’t you, but regardless. You’re getting married and I can’t be here anymore. So I left it in the kitchen. Obviously, it’s not a goodbye-goodbye, since I’ll still be living here in the city, but… No. Yeah, it’s a goodbye,” I nod to myself, trying to unravel the knot in my throat. “I guess you took my advice, huh? Congratulations, your highness.”

The silence from him is thick and it leaves a sour feeling in my stomach. It calls me to look up at him, and his eyes are icy cold. The sweet honey brown is as dark as coal.

“This is your response?” His words are robotic, I can feel the venom on his tongue as it pricks at my heart.

“S-sorry?” I tilt my head, not understanding him. It felt terrifying to make him repeat himself in the state he’s in.

“I told you I loved you. I’m assuming this is your response.” My eyes flicker to the paper in his fist, no longer readable. Neither is his face as he gives me the blankest look. It makes me want to cry more knowing this is how I will remember our last moments.

This time, I do take a step towards him but he’s shaking his head aggressively, lower back pressed against the edge of his desk. Now I know how he felt.

“If you want to hear me say ‘I love you’, you know I can’t do that.” Just having those three words leave my lips causes a tear to roll down my cheek.

“Because I’m the Prince?” This time, his expression changes to match mine. I can feel the frustration and pain radiating off of him, and all I want to do is to tell him what he needs to hear. But I just nod, forcing a distance.

“So it always mattered. What if… what if it was 7-year-old Donghyuck asking his princess? What would you have said? You didn’t know who I was back then. I was just… just Donghyuck.” He sighs, his body is limp as he settles onto his desk. I notice his frail build, worried that he’s been eating less.

I smile, fondly remembering the ignorant bliss from 15 years ago. But then I’m forced to remember our situation now, our ugly situation where our hearts are demanded to stay silent.

“I would’ve told him I loved him too.”

And with that, all strength is gone as I sob into my palm. I’m trying to force the wails in, but my body is shaking. My legs feel weak and he’s over here and his arms are wrapped tightly around me in a second. I can feel his heart beating against my arm trapped between our bodies and his breath shakily blowing on the top of my head. One hand is holding me tight and the other is brushing through my hair as he shushes me.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” He repeats. A part of me thinks this is to calm himself down too.

I know I’m right when I slowly pull myself back and see the red in his eyes and on the tip of his nose. My hand flinches as I’m about to caress his cheek. His breath is steadier as it now fans across my face and his eyes are lidded like they’ve finally got some rest. My hesitation vanishes as I let myself cup his face, trace the constellation painted on his cheek, and feel the sweetness of his lips on mine. The warm sensation that envelops my body makes me gasp and Donghyuck tightens his embrace on me, refusing to let go. He tasted better than every sweet treat I’ve had combined. He was intoxicating and my whole body buzzed like a sugar rush.

I close my eyes tighter, savoring the feeling of his lips, wanting to remember every trace — letting myself be selfish this last time. He’s sugary, cozy, and soothing like the afternoon sun on my back. His mouth moves with such ease against mine and it feels like I’ve been kissing him my whole life. The feeling of his tongue gently nudging my bottom lip jolts me back to reality and I push away, seized by the cold air of his big room again.

I bring my hands to my face, hoping to cool down the flush. The Prince is breathing as heavily and in sync with me, and all I can hear is our matching breaths and the ringing in my ears. I have to end it here.

“Um. Congratulations on your wedding,” I say in one breath. I don’t dare look at him as I quickly bow, scrambling to his door.

“Princess! Wait,” He grabs my wrist, almost too tight. “I can’t go through with this. Please, I-I only want to marry you.”

“Your highness…”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that. Say my name, please. Call me Hyuck. Call me Donghyuck. Anything but that. Just don’t-“ His teeth are chattering and he blinks away the tears. “Don’t leave me again.”

Without a second thought, I’m shaking my head ‘no.’ Even with tears blurring my vision, I can see the hurt on his face and I feel a part of my heart rot. It pains me just as much to reject him, but the Queen’s words swirl around in my head, unrelentless. I’m forced to leave him and my heart here and I want to scream, but I can’t. He notices that. It reminds him of himself.

Letting the finality of my decision settle in, he lets go of me, taking in a shaky breath. This was our end.

I restrain myself from taking any steps towards him as I reach for the door behind me. The wooden panel swings open, gliding past my extended fingers as I’m met with the face of the Queen.

That same hand shoots up to touch my lips, remembering what just happened in here and I bow till my hair grazes the tiled floors.

“Your Majesty,” I squeak. She looks at me with a million emotions and plants her glare at the Prince. Like pieces of a puzzle coming together, her face twists into anger, dissecting the situation. I take this as my cue to leave but the Queen shuts the door behind the both of us. I don’t hear the Prince make any moves to save me.

“What were you doing in there?” She angrily whispers between clenched teeth. Not sure what comes over me, but the fear I felt before is gone. Instead, I’m left feeling numb.

“Don’t worry. I was just saying goodbye.” I swallow, bracing myself for her reprimands.

A beat passes, before she speaks, this time in a normal tone. “Are you done?”

I nod, “Yes, and I’d like to be excused from attending the wedding to serve the cake.” The Queen’s eyebrows quirk up, shocked that I’ve made a request. I look her straight in the eyes so she knows I mean it.

“I can’t… I can’t be there for that. I believe I’ve done all the preparation I can and I am not needed to actually attend.” My confidence waivers, and I draw my attention back to the ground.

“Fair enough. You don’t have to attend. I’ll tell the other bakers to serve it.” I take my chance to meet her eyes again and I can almost see concern on her face. I shake my head of that ridiculous thought, and offer her my best smile.

“Thank you, your majesty.” I bow before dragging my feet off the palace grounds. Hoping to never set foot in here ever again.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bells. I plan to remove all bells from my bakery. The royal wedding bells have been ringing all morning and I don’t need any more reminders moving forward.

I spent the whole night crying after leaving the palace and then my anxiety kicked in, trying to get me to map out my life without him. Naturally, I planned to pour myself into work and here I am, out of bed, manning the shop by myself on his wedding day. I may have cried into a batch of dough in the morning, but baby steps are important. This is only day one anyways.

I realized I made a mistake leaving the house when I overheard everyone in town talk about the wedding of the century. I even let my employees off for the day, mainly to have my space to wallow alone. Practically everyone was outside the palace gates, waiting to get a glimpse of the couple. The streets were currently empty and I wonder if I should just close up shop.

Right when I was about to count up the cash and close out the register, the bell on the door jingles. I’m halfway into the one dollar bills when I roll my eyes at the sound, pressing my lips together to stop a groan. I make a mental note to remove the bell before I leave.

I look up to check on the customer and I see a man with, of course, brown hair surveying the bread on the back wall. All I can see is the back of his head as he peruses. I scoff to myself at the instant fluttering of my chest at yet another brunette customer. Is no one blond anymore? Are gingers that rare for me to never encounter one in my bakery?

I finish counting the ones and I move onto the fives when I realize he’s still standing in the same spot. I’m organizing the bills in my hands as I examine him. Normal guy. Black hoodie. Jeans.

Maybe he’s just really indecisive. I can see him tapping his foot from the counter. I decide to offer help after I finish counting the five dollar bills.

With the last dollar to count, I place it in the tray and slowly walk over to the man. As I get closer, my stranger danger instincts kick in and I suddenly regret my decision. His foot is still shaking and from this close, I can see him fidgeting with his sleeves in front of him. I grab a pair of tongs from the closest case and approach him.

“Excuse me, sir? Can I help you find something?” I have the tongs gripped with both hands, discreetly but ready to swing.

I see his body tense and my breath hitches, thinking I’m really going to have to hit this man with my makeshift weapon.

He turns around painstakingly slow and I raise the tongs instinctively to block my face, before letting out a squeal.

But then I see his face. And different bells go off.

“Oh my god. Hyuck?”

The bags under his eyes are prominent and I finally notice the way his hair has been pulled in different directions. His lips are dry as he cracks a sheepish smile. He’s rubbing the back of his neck and notices the kitchen utensil in my hands.

“Were you gonna hit me?!” His mouth is open in surprise and he’s taking the tongs from my hands. I let him and put my hands up in defense.

“You were standing there for so long, all fidgety! I’m alone in here, what was I supposed to think?” I fight back, taking the tongs back and clutching it close to my chest.

He lets out a long sigh, seemingly frustrated with himself as he runs his hands through his hair. I hate that I find it attractive.

“Wait.” He looks up at me through his lashes, swallowing. “What are you doing here?” I ask. He blinks, knowing that question was coming.

I expected to feel sick awaiting his answer, but instead my heart is racing, anticipating his next words. I almost feel that false hope I felt a week ago, and I try hard to deny it. But the way he’s looking at me leaves me with no doubts.

I’m about to push him out the door when he digs a hand into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. The wrinkled piece of paper from yesterday. He plays with it in his hands as he thinks about his next move.

“I was drafting a request to get the law changed.”

His words peak my interest. I set the tongs down and let him continue. Wrapping my arms around my waist for security, I’m fearful of what he has to say next.

“I’ve actually been working on it for the past two months.” He flattens the paper out in his hands. “You caught me finishing the final draft yesterday. I didn’t expect it to take up until my wedding day…” He laughs, unhumored by the situation.

He hands it to me. “This is an old copy now, but it’s actually already being reviewed by the King. Right now. Being who I am, I fled just in case.”

He looks at me anxiously as I read the top of the page, the words in bold:

Formal Petition to Repeal the Royal Marriage Ordinance

Written By Prince Lee Donghyuck

My eyes don’t believe what’s written, like the royal letter I received not too long ago, requesting I bake the royal wedding cake. The same royal stamp and all rests in the top left corner.

This time, I can read the words clearly. They settle into my chest, leaving me with such a funny feeling. I read the text and I can tell it’s written by him. I imagine him staying up every night after we meet in the kitchen, working by himself on this proposal. All of his hard work for the past couple months was printed on this very paper. All this work… for us.

I feel my cheeks wet from pure joy and I cover the smile straining my mouth. A rush unfurls through my body like sweet, sweet sugar and I look up to share it with him.

“Donghyuck… You-?”

“Marry me.”

He gets down on one knee, holding my free hand. He’s rubbing that one spot on my ring finger and it feels unreal. The gleam in his eyes reminds me of the toasty fires in the oven, the glistening mangos on his favorite tart. His smile matches mine, nervous just slightly, and I want to paint this memory in my brain forever. The love and desperation in his eyes are begging me to think of him. Think of us. Every fear that had been eating away at me the past month was overcome by his pleas. This paper and his actions are proof that we can happen.

He continues,

“Princess, please marry me. I’ve only wanted to marry you almost my entire life. I know that sounds crazy, but how can I doubt my obvious soulmate? You always come back to me, but I still don’t want another reason for you to have to leave. So please, trust me and trust us. Forget everything and everyone else and say you’ll marry me. If this petition doesn’t pass, I’ll continue to fight. Just…

Say you’ll be my princess forever.”

I tug his hand softly to get him to stand up. He obliges and I free my hands to hold his face. He finally breathes and closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. I can feel him relax and his hands rest on my hips, drawn like a magnet. My mind is bouncing back and forth trying to contain the frenzy in my heart and the steady warmth of my core. I tap his eyelid lightly with my thumb and ask him to look at me. He opens them slowly, fear still trickling in his irises. I smile at him.

“My Prince,” His breath hitches. “I love you too.”

Donghyuck wastes no time tucking his head into my neck and lifting me against his body. He spins me around between the cases of bread and I giggle, feeling his heart beat erratically against mine. He softly lets my feet touch the ground and we’re looking at each other again, tears adding sparkles to his eyes. I wipe them away instantly.

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers, but it feels like he said it with his whole being.

“Always.” I say with just as much commitment.

We’re cherishing the moment together, laughing at how happy we get to be, when the wedding bells go off once more. I look at him with confusion and he shrugs, just as lost.

“I can’t believe my wedding cake is going to waste,” I pout, remembering all my hardwork. And he squeezes my hip at my choice to be silly, snickering.

“I can’t believe you went with a lemon cake. Do you even know me?” He teases, pretending to be hurt. I gasp, slapping his chest.

“I’ll make sure to go with the mango tarts for ours.” I press a soft kiss on his lips and he smiles with me, pulling me unbelievably closer.

“I like the sound of that,” Donghyuck hums.

“I’m sure you do.” I laugh.

Donghyuck and I stand there in each other’s arms for as long as our legs allow. We talk about the past, how it felt to leave each other. We talk about the garden and I admit to catching him talk to his mom, which explains everything he needs to know. Even as I’m profusely apologizing, he’s doing the same, saying sorry for putting me in such a situation. I choose to ask about Princess Soohae and he bites his lip nervously, telling me he hasn’t handled that predicament yet. I almost drag him out of the bakery at the sound of that. We even go over his repeal proposal and I call him out for some typos.

Eventually we move to the kitchen, doing what we do best, and what we’ve done for years, waiting for someone to find him. The Prince and his Princess.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A/N: i hope you enjoyed!! pls like, reblog, reply, whatever!! if u want hehe

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themotherofblood · 1 year

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Hey dear! I saw that you are accepting requests and would like to know if I can get an imagine nsfw with Daemon x poc fem! reader (may be Dornish) who was a dancer before marrying him, but she still has the activity as a hobby and one night when she misses dinner, worried Daem goes after her and finds her dancing, please?( feel free to ignore and sorry for my english)

I absolutely love this ask, however there will only be a small implementation of culture.

ghugroo~ an anklet made of gold bells and a red cloth, worn to dance classical south Asian styles.

masterlist | Part 2

smut, softie daemon (oral f) voyuerism-ish, tw: mentions of prostitution, purity culture and Otto Hightower

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

The floor of the Mirrored Place was cold under your bare feet, the entire palace was dim; other than a few candles that reflected light from one mirror to the other. Leaving the barren hall with a warm glow. There used to be much light in this hall before; when your mother and you danced. The entire Dornish court would gather to enjoy in the art your had inherited from her.

She was a Lysenese courtesan, thought to please men with her dancing from a young age. Her will to dance was different, not because it earned her a coin but she found solace in the sound of the music playing for her body to move on her own terms.

You were raised within the group of these courtesans, a sister hood that protected you at all costs. The reason you learned to dance was for the sheer entertainment of the other sisters, and an unshaken will to mirror everything your mother did. However everyone of them knew your fate since the day you learned to walk, you too would inherit the title of court dancer at the ripe age of five and ten. They protected you still, keeping you hidden in the back of the numbers performed.

Then came along Qoren Martell, on his many ventured to Essos and a budding relationship with the Triarchy, he had found your mother dancing for the Lys court; he had eyes for her and only her after that. The deal may have not been affluential and yet he returned home with your mother and a sister for his daughter Aliandra.

The court at Sunspear was different, mother only danced for familial festivals and taught various girls at court to dance for her joy. No one quite picked it up like you did. Qoren had an entire place made for her, the interior made completely of mirrors for her to dance in.

She passed ten summers before.

You danced for her memory, not on familial events or as a courtesan, Qoren would have anyone’s head if they even mentioned the possibility to you, as far as he cared you were his daughter. Blood or not. You danced in the secrecy of this abandoned palace, alone where only the walls could hear the jangles of your mother’s given ghungroos

That brought you today, and what ails your troubles.

Your marriage to prince Daemon Targaryen wasn’t one of secret, Daemon was sent as envoy from King’s Landing, hoping to settle the issue in the Stepstones. Again, the deal wasn’t particularly affluential, yet the Targaryen prince gained a wife. You.

It was a quaint Valyrian traditional wedding, one with your approval.

You’d fallen for the prince, and what was Qoren to do? Tell his beloved flower no? No she couldn’t have the dragon prince that wanted her just as much.

A royal wedding without the approval of king or his court was a dangerous affair, hence both you and Daemon remained at Old Palce, awaiting news. Whether you’d be presented or court or if Daemon was to whisk you away on his dragon to Pentos.

Daemon only grunted and groaned when you asked who would oppose what the dragon prince wanted

“Otto Hightower.”

Daemon’s words came true like a dying wish, a raven did indeed arrive from king’s landing that Qoren showed you first.

Vile words were used against you, as the king’s hand gathered information of your parentage and the two years you had worked as a court dancer with your mother.

Not that they were lies; you were a bastard, not even a Sand. Yet Qoren had fought tooth and nail to title you and your mother as princesses. Moreover they questioned your purity and how it would muddle the pure Targaryen blood Daemon seems to possess, concerns of what influence I might impose on his daughter by his late lady wife Laena. You grimaced at the thought of even teaching those young girls what the court at king’s landing insinuated. They weren’t wrong in their concerns, and here you hadn’t even told him you danced let alone that you were a courtesan.

Qoren believed that if he could have wed your mother while begin the head of the Martell family, what is a mere second son who cannot accept the apple of Qoren’s eyes. You had left the matter at that, hoping to just let it drown behind your thoughts.

Daemon wouldn’t shun you for this…would he?

The family had gathered for supper, rather large sum of Sand sisters and Aliandra along with your husband and your step daughters. Qoren frowned at your empty seat though he knew exactly where you would have gone after reading that letter.

You’d bent down to ties the ribbons securely against your ankles, the gold ghungroos held weight to them, yet for you moving them was as fluid as a swan. You tapped your feet twice, feeling the tightness of them before exhaling a ragged breath. You tucked the loose end of your shawl on the waist line of your skirts.

Your imagination did the work for you, hearing the beat of the percussion and flute in your head as you hummed the melody under your breath, rhythmic jangles of the bells on your ankles began to echo through the hall. You closed you eyes, picturing your mother dancing next to you. The smile on her face, finally dancing for her love of the art and not the perversions of men.

Your skirt flared out as your twirled, glimmering in the light of the candles, you kept dancing. Following every count in your head as you hands remembered the signs to make. The hard your feet tapped against the marble floors the louder the jangles echoed.

Your life wouldn’t be different if Daemon left you for knowing the truth, but you wondered if anyone would want you because of what you were forced to be. You moved around the room efffortlessly, you hips swaying at the imaginary sound of the strings.

You hadn’t realized your eyes watered until you flinched in fear, watching your husband leaning against the grand posts of the mirrored hall. You stopped, the twirl of your skirts coming to stop and pool around your legs.

His palms crashed together in an applause, a smile of admiration of his face. You noticed the parchment in his hands and he noticed you eyeing the message.

“Do you truly think I care if you were a courtesan?” He shook his head, moving towards you “You were a child.” He scoffed.

You blinked the tears of concern away, you couldn't help from a few others falling free too

“My mother found her prince in Qoren, I believed so had I in you and then this.” You felt vulnerable, “I would never expose your daughters to such vulgarity, that's why I never danced for them and I was pure on our wedding night; I swear it. I wou-” You rambled on, Daemon’s eyes softened as he held you face, he held moved his thumb atop your lip to shush you

“My love isn't so fickle that bloodless sheets would diminish its fire. You are mine, and I yours. I sweared it by fire and blood sweet girl.” He reassured you “That ought to mean something?”

“You would forsake your family for me?” You shook your head, unwanting of such loyalty.

“That cunt of hand is not my family, these are his words; not my brother’s” He sounded irked at the parchment. “I will present you to the court as a good and honourable princess of Dorne, if anyone has objections they may rely on it to Dark Sister.”

You were left speechless, perhaps you had found the right prince after all. You tried to make words form at the tip of your tongue and yet nothing came through

“And as for you dancing,” His voice lowered “You ought dance for your lord husband more often.”

You swatted his shoulder before throwing yourself at him, you nuzzled your face at the crook of his neck. He moved her head, letting his lips capture yours, moulding them and taking charge; exploring your mouth with his tongue. He had been so heated about it you had to pull away to breathe

“Caught me a little dancer.” He whispered, bending down to lift your over his shoulder

“Daemon!” You shrieked “What are you doing!”

“Admiring the art.”

He plopped you down onto the viewing nest, a collection of heavy comforters a pillows that were laid at the edges of the halls for people to lounge.

“We can’t- what if somebody catches us?” You argued as he adamantly began to to strip you like a child pawing at his present.

“Then they will find a prince worshipping his princess.” He said in annoyance, huffing at all the ties on your blouse. He then reached for his inner pockets and threw a key your way.

You sighed in relief, the doors to the palace were locked.

“So fucking beautiful,” He groaned as you breasts spilt free of it entrapment, he immediately latched on the pebbled flesh, suckling on one as her tweaked the other. You chest heaved, feeling his warm mouth assault your breasts. He unlatched himself before paying attention the the other.

“My pretty little wife.” He breathed out, pushing your skirts up and yanking the cotton leggings underneath off your legs. He leaned back onto his legs admiring your cunt, he let a glob of spit dribble onto your folds as his fingers smeared them all over.

One hand working on the eager bundle of nerves and the others scissored at you insides, that familiar warmth of pleasure began to spread through your body as whimpered from your husband. You ghungroo’s jangling as you spread your legs further. Daemon latched himself onto your bud, frantically licking at the little things. You shrieked out his name, feeling him smirk as he took you apart on his mouth.

Just as you reached the precipice of your pleasure he pulled away. A shameless whine tore through you making Daemon chuckle, “All in sweet time princess, just getting you ready for me.” He idly rubbed circles on your rose bud

“Daemon just fuck me.” You groaned in frustration making your husband’s eyes.

“Such filthy words, sweet girl.” He taunted, nearly pushing your legs to your shoulders, even the little strums of the bells on your ankles were taunting you.

“Please, please Daemon,” you whined pleadingly as he ran the leaky tip of his cock through your folds. “I want you!”

“Good girl, begging for her husband’s cock.” He grunted as he bottomed out within you.

Barely allowing you a moment to adjusted before setting a determined pace in pounding you cunt.

You looked up at him as his long silver locks shielded your face, he leaned down to kiss your lips, biting at the bottom of your lip. The ghungroos on your ankle rhythmically jangled to the thrusting of your husband’s hips. He leaned back, throwing your legs on his shoulder as his pounding turned animalistic.

“My pretty little dancer, all mine.” He groaned

Drowning in your own pleasures your agreed in series of all yours- all yours pouring from your lips, nearly far too lost in the sensations radiating of your body. You reached your hands upwards, wanting him closer as your back arched off the ground. He wrapped his hands around you back, letting your legs hug around his lower back as he pounded you to your peak.

“Y/N- gods.” He breathed out in your ear as his cock spurted ropes of his seed in your cunt.

There was Moment of serene peace as Daemon pulled out of you and fell next to you, untill you felt his spend spilling down onto your skirts and you groaned.

“You ruined my skirt,” you pouted, grimacing at the stains

“I’ll buy you hundreds more.” He huffed out, yanking you on top of him.

Just as you helped each other straighten out, he spend a while tying the ties of your blouse, peppering kisses on your back as you undid the ghungroos, quite sure they would have bruises your ankles by now.

There was yet another topic lingering on Daemon’s tongue that he wasn’t sure how you would take

“Rhaena found out at supper that you dance, she could use a teacher…” He said hesitantly, you frowned.

“Just as you learned from your mother, our little dragons could use a lesson or two from their mother.”

You pondered and then looked to him using the word mother.

“Rhaena will make a gorgeous little dancer.”

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calisources · 1 month

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𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒, 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences have been taking from different media and literature, movies and more regarding the topic of mistresses and favorites, mostly in the setting of royal court but can also be adjusted to other time periods. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit. Some of these include foul language, so beware. Implications of cheating are also in these.

You are my king, Niko, and I need you.

Everything I say is obeyed; everything I want is given to me.

You are such hard work to seduce, Niko.

She wanted to sit ON him, not next to him.

Never underestimate the power of a woman's intuition.

Behind every great king, there is a great queen. And behind them, there is a mistress.

The King is allowed to have as many favorite as he pleases.

A queen is never without her secrets.

A woman's beauty is her greatest weapon, use it wisely.

Rules are meant to be broken, especially by queens.

Queens do not beg for love, they command it.

Have as many bedwarmers as you wish, but I am your wife and you will not humiliate me.

A queen's grace can disarm her enemies.

He will grow tire of you, as he does with the others.

Having an ugly mistress is therefore a fatal mistake.

When a man takes a mistress, he doesn't turn around and divorce his wife.

Finding out that you are not your lover’s only lover hurts.

But a mistress can do interesting thing with food. Shall I describe them?

You will come back to the castle with me.

I-I'm not your responsibility.

You are mine. They gave you to me, remember? And I want to keep you.

Your Grace---I am a virgin.

I realize that, and it pleases me. You do not doubt that I can be gentle with you?

They say you grow tire after the first night. No mistress last longer than a night with the king.

I know what you are trying to do, but do not think to take the King away from me. Let him play with you.

Done being sore yet, by chance?

From a mistresses’s perspective, taken men are low maintenance. All they want is sex, sex, sex.

Do not take it harshly. It’s only flesh. And a body wants what it wants.

Kings have mistresses, Queens have secrets and they die with them.

To be the mistress of a married man is to have the better role.

The role of a mistress if make a man’s mood change and send him happy to his wife.

Don't be mad at a hoe for doing what she does best, besides it's not her that owes you that loyalty.

It was not a request. I will take you to bed and make you mine.

My wife has no interest in my bed, butb I assure you, my bed has interest in you.

Wives are young men's mistresses, companions for middle age, and old men's nurses.

I don't want her to know the truth about us.

They know about us and they do not care. My wife does not mind to share.

As long as I do my duty, I am allowed to do who I please.

This absurd jealousy.

A mistress should be like a little oasis, refreshing and exciting, away from the mundane realities of life

The bedchamber is where political alliances are sealed, and where empires are born.

A king may rule a nation, but a woman's allure can conquer the king.

Behind every great king, there are the whispers of his mistresses.

The allure of a mistress lies not only in her beauty, but in her ability to manipulate.

A mistress must be both lover and confidante, juggling passion and secrecy.

In the court of kings, a mistress can become more powerful than a queen.

He is one of his favorites, and everyone knows it. You must become his favorite too.

In the arms of a mistress, a king can escape the weight of his crown.

I want more than this. You cannot offer me more than secret meetings and a warm bed. People whisper.

You can be my wife here.

If I desire to marry someone else, would I be allowed or you would not let me?

I'll take you as my only mistress. I won't have a thought or an affection for anyone else.

I call Mary my English mare, because I ride her so often.

He cannot give you his true heart... for *I* have that in my keeping.

You can't have 3 people in a marriage!

Seduce me. Write letters to me. And poems, I love poems. Ravish me with your words. Seduce me.

You've taken her honor!

I swear to your grace, someone else was there before me.

They say all his liaisons are soon over. He blows hot, he blows cold.

Sometimes I believe you will grow tire of me. But then I find you here in my bed.

If I cannot please the King, will he kill me?

You must not touch me, for Caesar’s I am.

Everyone knew she was his queen and wife in anything but name.

You will have this orgasm if it’s the last thing I do.

What happened to the art of seduction? A woman enjoys being seduced.

I will not be the laughing stock of the realm. A woman who can only be a lover, never a wife.

I found her a very beautiful young woman with a very sweet and yielding disposition, She confessed to great admiration for Your Majesty. Should I, arrange ...?

If you put the Queen aside for this affair, the kingdom will fall apart.

If you seek Your Grace, you know where to find him.

I trust his mistress more than I trust any man on this table.

My husband is extremely jealous. Wants me sent to a nunnery.

I am with child. It is His Majesty's child.

Slow down so I can see how you do it.

Think of this as training. For your future husband’s pleasure. And mine.

should like to be your wife in every way.

I was wondering if you'd like to become my mistress.

You like to board other men's boats.

You know perfectly well what the King desires and what he shall have.

I saw with my own eyes how attentive he is to you.

My only satisfaction is that in frustrating you, I hasten your fall from the King's good graces.

Any man is weak against a maiden’s magic. Alluring and sweet. Like spring.

I make you this promise. When we are married, I will deliver you a son.

I have yet to decide whether to make your bedmate a head shorter.

So you can have your lovers and I have my own, but at the end, we return to one another.

If you are not careful and a bastard is conceived, you will be ruined.

Everything will change for her. That kiss is her destiny and fortune.

So, what about this girl, this putain, the king's whore? Why doesn't somebody just get rid of her?

Have any of the women you've bedded with lied about their virginity?

Pretty, witty Nell, don’t forget you are mine until I say so.

Do you seriously expect me to be the first Prince of Wales in history not to have a mistress?

I will teach you many things, how to please a man and in turn, you will be my eyes and ears in court.

I thought you wished for us to be over.

How can I when you plague my mind at every turn.

Let me have you, at least once. Many women would consider it an honor.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #mistresses meme #royal scandal meme #mistress meme

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tiredmoonslut · 1 year

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Okay I’ve got my thoughts together now, and honestly, Young Royals season 2 is a prime example of how consistency makes for a much better story than shock value, or surface-level drama. Season 2 was literally packed to the rafters with angst and teen drama--but not a single bit of it felt contrived or over-the-top, because it was a completely natural progression of what the first season established. Every character made mistakes, or did things that had unexpected ripple effects--but the choices were consistent with their characterization, and it made the entire story cohesive.

Wilhelm gets aggressive when upset---especially so when it involves Simon, so him pulling a fucking rifle on August doesn’t seem out of place, as hugely dramatic as it is. Sara is neurodivergent and has issues with expressing herself the way she intends---so her lies and secrecy don’t read as uncharacteristically villainous or vindictive, despite how negatively it affects the people around her. August is human, and capable of things like kindness and affection, but he’s always been self-serving and manipulative, so his actions this season don’t confuse the storyline. The writers behind YR are clearly interested in telling an actual, organic story that develops naturally--and doesn’t rely on shock reveals and sensationalist plotlines to tell that story. It’s really incredible, and the soundtrack, score, cinematography, and amazing actors just pull it all together. I can’t wait for Season 3.

#young royals #young royals season 2 #young royals netflix #young royals spoilers #young royals season 3 #wilmon #prince wilhelm #simon eriksson #sara eriksson #young royals august #lisa ambjörn #edvin ryding #omar rudberg

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pluck-heartstrings · 9 days

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Ik Eclipse is only in your "actual medieval times" AU but. What if in the main fic Fazco decides for extra drama to give Monty a sorcerer companion who's a long lost brother of the attendants' and he does magic shows and stuff during the tournaments. And one of his Things is flirting with the Princess. Thoughts?

OK wait listen...listen...listen to me...

You can't just say this. My brain gets carried away so easily, I can easily see this happening. I won't/CAN'T add it to the fic canon because it would mess with the plot too much BUT!!!!

Medieval Times Eclipse, on the Invader's side, would be a whole new light show/magic show to take over the non-existent falconer's intermission.

The lights in the arena would go crazy and the sorcerer would make his dramatic entrance in a puff of smoke. He'd point his staff at the Princess and the jesters would crumple to the floor beside her, revealed to be his automatons from the beginning. Thus would begin a battle of magic vs song, where the Princess could only use her voice to drown out the sorcerer's chanting, urging the audience to sing with her to combat the evils that threaten her kingdom.

With the audience, her people, her lords and ladies, the sorcerer would be defeated but only temporarily. He'd vow to return night after night, gleeful and menacing, until the day that the audience fails her and she falls to his clutches.

He vanishes with a triumphant laugh, and sneaks around the corners of the atrium after the performance. Lucky guests will be able to spot him and call the Knights to thwart him, but he always vanishes before the Knights can get to him. (he uses the hard-to-spot staff corridors to get around) It becomes a side mission for all the young guests of Castle Faz.

The Royal Jesters wake with no memories of their master, and the Princess pities her Royal Attendants and doesn't tell them the truth, vowing all witnesses to secrecy.

#ask pluck #what do I call this? a canon divergence?#medieval times au #pluck my heartstrings

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lovelykhaleesiii · 9 months

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My lovely Hel!!! Please, if you could.

Aemond and Aegon taking turns with reader and face fucking her? All the degradation and praise please? (Daddy kink what) And wonderful aftercare! Any other kinks is up to you!!!

beans your request is my command, this is everything & more….. oh to be face fucked by this duo, lord have mercy.

hope this was everything you dreamt of and more ✨

Exceptions.

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

WORDS: 2,280.

WARNINGS: NSFW, degradation kink, praise kink, mentions of innocence kink, female receiving (fingering), p in v sexual intercourse, male oral receiving, Daddy kink, slight mentions of breeding / lactation kink.

A/N - OKAY so I attempted to do a contrast between the brothers regarding their treatment towards the reader. hope I did it justice :) NO PLOT JUST S*X !!! Did I put my whole helussy into this? maybe…

How they found you hidden away in the solace of the castle's library, your nose buried in between the ancient pages of a book, you could not say for certain. Although, it was a keen skill of theirs, and you knew those guarding and tending to the castle grounds spoke, especially when questioned by the royal inhabitants, probing for your whereabouts, they'd have the answer in a split second.

Your elder Uncles cherished you since your youth, something about the way you looked at them, spoke to them, touched them, even if it was as innocent as gripping their arm, drove them far beyond the hatred they had for their Strong nephews... Your half-brothers. Having grown into the mature, young woman that you were, Aemond often dotting you as "ethereal", the maesters had highly proclaimed as a true Targaryen beauty. Nonetheless, many noble and highborn lords of the realm sought for your hand, yet you remained indignant in refusing to engage, for your heart was set elsewhere, closer to home.

Aemond and Aegon also made no effort to hide their infatuation with you. Especially Aegon, refusing to engage in small talk or relations with maidens his grandsire would arrange, as means to provoke an heir from him, Aegon was solely fixated on you. The proposition of Aegon marrying Helaena, was shut down immediately by the Prince himself, for he'd rather set himself aflame than take his sister to bed.

Nonetheless, the family grew aware of his deep admiration for you, and felt defeated in retaliating against it any further. Whispers of a betrothal between yourself and your eldest Uncle were in the midst. And although your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, much preferred Aemond as a suitor, as you both were far closer in age and Aemond having less arduous tendencies, she was agreeable to the arrangement if it meant a form of peace-keeping between herself and the Dowager Queen.

Although, from time to time, you'd confide in her how Aegon the First, took two wives... Would it be so terrible for you, to take two husbands in the ancient traditions of your House?

Regardless, amongst the three of you, you had your own little plots and ploys at hand. If Aegon secured this marriage with you, he'd made the promise that his younger brother too, would take part, even if it was concealed in secrecy. You loved them both incomparably, and they had accepted this respectfully. For you, they would travel to the ends of the Earth for, kill for and bleed for... No one else came close.

You were always the exception for them.

****

"Here she is brother. Too preoccupied for us it seems-" Aegon utters. Slowly he strides towards you, plopping himself down by your side on the lounge, as he plants a soft peck at your cheek, before fiddling and flicking the pages of a smaller, overused book at the table side.

Aemond, tediously following behind remains quiet and unfazed, as he too follows his elder brother's gesture: planting a soft, longer-lasting kiss at your other cheek, before seating himself on the arm rest of your chair.

"You two have been in meetings since the mane, I thought I'd keep myself tucked and busy as I waited for you both."

"My sweet thing-" Aegon steadily arises as he plants a tender kiss atop your head.

"Have you missed us?" He utters, plopping himself back down, one hand embracing your from behind, the other free one begins to hike your dress up, high enough for his hand to sneak in between your thighs. Pulling aside your cotton undergarments, his fingers creep inside, now lightly grazing over the bare, sensitive skin of your cunt.

"Hmm, yes."

"How much?" Aemond sternly interjects, subtly biting at his lower lip, as he watches his elder brother teasing you.

"V-Very much."

Aegon's thick fingers slowly began to etch between your thighs, motioning in small circles, as your wetness began to naturally stir.

"How much is 'very much', dear niece? Do not be shy now. Tell your Uncles, exactly what you desire, and we shall see to it that your needs are met," Aemond firmly pressed, kneeling down on the ground, as he lifts your leg, planting a trail of small, tender kisses from the shin working his way up.

"I-I want y-you both... Inside me," Stuttering your words, only just above the volume of a whisper, Aegon's digits now deeply immersed inside your folds, churning in larger, sensual circular motions, as his longer index rubs at your clit. Helpless moans escaping your mouth, as Aegon buries his head against the crook of your neck, his plump, wet lips latched at your soft skin, harshly suckling at it.

Aemond remains below, now feeling the sharpness of his canines faintly biting at the flesh of your inner thighs.

"Hear that brother- Spoiled, little girl wants to be full of us both. Such a pampered babe, wants to be coddled and fucked stupid by her Uncles."

"And we shall-" Aegon utters, momentarily breaking free from your skin, as he responds to his brother's despotic words.

"On the floor now, Y/N," Aegon growls, as he stops his lustful pursuits, hastily removing his eager hand from below, causing your breath to hitch suddenly, as you firmly grip his forearm instinctively. Once you regained your senses, Aemond aided your descent to the carpeted, stony floor. Aegon begins to lay down a few silk, plush pillows from the lounge, behind you, as he too follows your steps.

"On all fours, brat," Aemond spits, as he props himself on his knees, his rough hand entwined in the free, loose strands of your hair, guiding your head towards him. Your face, now, just a few, mere inches apart from his cock, beneath his pants. You could sense Aegon behind, his hands firmly grasping at your waists, as he aligns himself with you. One hand finding its way between your legs, pushing at the sides of your inner thighs, as he urges them to spread.

"Wider baby, you know I need more space- That's it-"

In sync, your Uncles begin to hastily undo their trousers, watching Aemond unbutton his with a smug appearance on his chiselled face, and hearing Aegon groan in relief from behind.

Aemond's lean, stiff cock, sprung before you, the veins and its natural hue evident, as his tip flushed red with colour, glistening with a white, cloudy film oozing from the tip.

From behind, Aegon once again, hiked your dress up, folding it on your back, as he ripped apart your undergarments completely with his bare hands. You knew he was desperately eager now. Shuffling himself more forward, shoving himself between your thighs, closer to your frame, you could feel his thick, fat cock rigid against your soft ass cheeks. Taunting you with his girthy size and unyielding posture, his hands gripped firmly at your waist once more, pulling your backside deeper to his dense mass.

"If only you could see brother. Just how avid she is for our cocks. She cannot even bring herself to look me in the eye, though rather my cock."

"Do not jest with her, brother. She has waited long enough, and we too have been kept from her. My poor Princess-"

One hand still gripped on your waist, Aegon sets the other one loose, as it wanders over to your naked ass cheek, kneading at your flesh, before giving it a quick, sharp slap. Positioning his stiff cock to entrance, Aegon spares no second to thrust himself in, earning a moaning plea, as the intense pain of your walls stretching out beyond comfort, desperate to accomodate for his substantial mass.

In doing so, as your mouth shapes blatantly open, Aemond seizes the grand opportunity to shove his into your mouth. His hand remaining tightly entangled in your strands, tugging to pull your face towards him.

Gleaming down towards you with a complacent smirk strewed across his face. His one remaining, good eye, lurks down intently upon you, as he begins to sway himself slowly, backwards and forwards, his eye flutters in conjunction to the unfathomable sensation.

"Th-That's it, my petty, little brat. Show me how well that spoiled mouth of yours can treat me, show me how well you think you deserve my cock."

Hot tears began to swell in your eyes, although from the glorious pain and fulfilment you felt in that precise moment. Aegon's growling grunts, your mouthful gags and Aemond's deep moans, ricocheted across the walls of the ancient library, like an orchestral symphony.

May the Gods be good, that no one dares to venture in your vicinities.

Aemond's lean, long cock, shoved its way deeper, as your soft, wet lips stroked againsts its circumference in rhythmic motions, sensing the urge of the hard tip at the back of your throat. His hot wetness began to pool, coating your insides, as he roughly jammed himself in.

"F-Fuck, that feels so good, Y/N."

Simultaneously, Aegon's thrusts, although not as synchronised and steady as Aemond's, began to grow sloppier and faster, as he plunged himself partially in and out, forcing himself back in. The friction brewing between your inner thighs, lessened as your natural wetness began to ooze from the gaps of your clenching entrance.

"Poor Princess, so needy for my cock. I can just feel you tightening for me, baby. Is that how bad you wanted your Daddies, huh? Needed your Daddy's fat cock inside to comfort you, hmm?" Aegon breathlessly exclaimed: the vulgarity as he confidently spat the term 'Daddy' out, provoking you to quench tighter around his throbbing, hard cock, earning a mindless, low moan from him.

"Fuck Y/N!" Aegon roared, raking another piercing slap against your bare ass. Sensing from the sweat and heat of your flesh that your sensitive skin was marked with a reddening handprint, mimicking that identical of Aegon's palm.

"Insolent, weak Princess. Crying from how full and weak she is, Seven Hells. Aren't you a pathetic, little thing, struggling to take her Daddy's cock front and back, huh?"

Aemond immediately wretched his cock free from your mouth, as he tugged at your head once more, pulling it back before leaning down towards you. Faces an inch apart, his hungry eye lusts over your wet, soiled lips with his pre-cum, inadvertently he licks his own lips, before succumbing to a passionate yet short-lasting kiss.

"Tell me, brat. Can you take much more?"

"Y-Yes, Daddy-" You weakly whimpered and sputtered, gasping from deep, full breaths as you impatiently sought for fuller consciousness.

"What was that, whore? Have we not given you enough yet? You hear that, Aegon? Keep at it. The whore is not yet satisfied."

"I-Is that so? My innocent babe will reap her desires, j-just as she deserves." Aegon menacingly growled, his grip firmer than before on your waist, you felt your skin growing numb beneath.

"Lets finish her-"

As Aemond spoke his final words, taking one final, crisp breath in, he shoved his cock back into your mouth, its lengthy size and rapid thrusts, rewarded with muffled moans echoing from your mouth watering lips.

"That'll shut up the bratty whore."

The aches of your arched, lower back grew sorer, a dull pain brewing as the weight of Aegon's mass leaning over from behind, and having been stationed in that exact position for a solid period of time, began to take its toll. Although, just as your desires had been fulfilled, you felt yourself reaching a climax from below, just as Aegon's cock grew tenser inside, the throbbing sensations of his cock was blinding. Your eyes rapidly flickering shut, all your senses incoherent and stunned beyond awareness.

"I'm gonna cum, baby, I'm gonna cum- Fill you up with my hot seed, you might just take. And then what? Ugh- To see you swell with my babe, for being such a good girl-"

"Do it, brother. May her tits also swell with the Mother's, sweet milk, that she may bless us with her treat."

The grunts and groans your Uncles ravenously exchanged, was once more, a melody to your blessed ears.

"Then we shall see to it. Cease every opportunity to fuck her senseless, until her cunt is drowning in our seed, until she takes. That belly will grow healthily with a royal heir," Aemond breathlessly proclaims, before releasing a deep groan, as his hot load shoots against your uvula. Coating your mouth to the brimful, before slowly pulling his twitching cock out.

In sync to his younger, the rigid and pulsing tensity of Aegon's cock begins to dissipate as he instantly releases his hot cum inside. Pooling all over your delicate walls, some naturally streaming out, as he cautiously removes himself from your tight hold.

"That's it, baby. You did such a good job," Aegon softly coos, as he massages small circles against the lower part of your back, where your hand momentarily was tending to the soreness.

"Lay down, sweetling-" Aemond lowly interrupts, guiding your tiresome, weary body to lay. Your head gently rests on Aegon's clothed thigh, as his hand begins to soothe through your mottled hair, brushing the messy strands away, tending to the mess his brother invoked.

"Now we rest for a short while, Princess. Regain your strength and us, ours, till the next lot of fun and pleasure-" Aemond slyly murmurs, as his fingers softly trace random trails across your back, just as he knows you enjoy.

"Mayhaps we'll move this to the bedroom, dear brother. I shall carry her back, and you can see to it, fetch for the servants to bring up some replenishments. And then, can we resume this deed, once and for all."

general taglist - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @rafesbarbiegirl @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylas-the-grim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit

Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog

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raincitygirl76 · 1 month

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Speaking as of March 17, the day before 3.06 drops, I don't see August's arc in 3.01 to 3.05 as a redemption arc. Yeah, he's done one more genuinely nice thing in his life than before S3: for his third years, walking back from the homophobic sexual degradation that he experienced in his own initiation as a first year. Go him.

That's a good thing he's done, no question. But he still organized terrifying initiations (even if they weren't quite as bad as his own), he still got booze from Simon for the initiation party that he'd never had any intention of paying for.

August also allowed his lawyer to make that outrageous statement in 3.01 denying that the video was defamatory. The only reason he's not in jail awaiting trial on CP charges is because he has money and connections to make his criminal act disappear. That's not original, about the money and connections, but I forget who said it first. @unfortunate17 or @billfarrah , maybe... He was also smug rather than penitent while everybody was signing the paperwork.

Also, August persists in walking all over Sara's boundaries. He visits her at Micke's without warning, and doesn't apologize for the position he put her in. He uses that Conversation to remind her that she and he have similar dads, except Micke is alive and Carl Johan is dead. He's trying to play on Sara's sympathy. Even though the whole reason she feels she has to live with Micke is because of august's past bad actions.

And he repeatedly defies her wishes about not wanting to read his first year letter. He follows her out to the dumpster and insists on reading it to her to tug on her heartstrings. Even after she was clear she didn't want to read it and gave it back to him.

Now, was August being manipulative in S3 on purpose? No. But he and Sara aren't an example of a healthy relationship just because in S3 Wilhelm and Simon have an unhealthy relationship. I know I shouldn't use the word healthy, but at the moment I can't think of a suitable synonym.

So yeah, now he's done exactly two nice things in his life that we know of:

Buying Sara for Rousseau

Dialling back the sexual intimidation on the Forest Ridge initiations when he was a third year. Although the initiations August presided over were no walk in the park, so let's not give him too much credit.

I'm not saying he's a soulless monster. He's only 18 going on 19, he has time to improve before we write him off altogether. But he has STILL never apologized to Simon and Wilhelm for the sexual violation he inflicted on them. As soon as the NDA was safely signed, his own bad actions regarding the video were in August's rear view mirror.

So yeah, he listened to Boris and he tried to do a nice thing or two. But he’s still August.

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unicorncornflakes · 1 year

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Little One - Story AU! | Chapter 2

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Paring: Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

Summary: You are the only daughter of Jacaerys Velaryon, future lord of the tides. After the victory of Aegon and his side in the war, your family suffers the rejection in Driftmark. There you must always give an account to the king's new hand, Aemond Targaryen. However, when the time comes, Aegon and his court claim you as Queen Helaena's lady-in-waiting. As a new piece of the Greens' strategy to coerce your father, you are taken to King's Landing to begin your life in high society. Aemond will be, much to his pleasure, in charge of guiding you in this new stage.

Tags: Alternate Universe/ Enemies to Lovers/ Emotional Hurt/Comfort Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st, at some points.

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @thedamewithabook @bluevxnus

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 3.5K

"What do you think, princess?" One of the tailors looked at princess Jaehaera, who looked sad in front of her mirror. Aemond, sitting as he watched, with a cup of wine in his hand, looked at his daughter, Aegon's daughter. This was how he had to see her, and how he had tried to see her thus far. Jaehaera was his niece in the realm's eyes, but that didn't exempt him from acting like her father most of the time. At a table in the young princess's chambers, the Hand of the King was sitting watching as she tried on the last dress he had had ordered for the princess, who as always seemed to enjoy only her solitude.

"Fine" she replied in a small sweet voice. And that was all he said to her, showing no emotion on her face or in her voice, barely blinking. Just looking in front of the mirror. The tailor looked at Aemond as if he expected some directive more than just 'Fine'. He took another sip of his glass in silence, just before speaking.

“It's a good dress. I like the use of green and gold" Aemond replied, without a smile, just staring at the tailor, almost as if he could read what he was thinking, tasting the fear he had of him... he liked having that power over others. He took another sip and the tailor didn't know what else to do. This was not a conventional royal family in any sense. Fear, secrecy, and unease seemed to reign throughout the red fortress ever since the greens had won the war. They were all puppets and Aemond the main puppeteer. The silence was still heavy in Princess Jaehaera's chambers and the tailor dared to speak once more.

"Then, if it's fine with you, I'll retire to make the final arrangements, my prince" said the poor man. His gaze dropped from him. He could not bring himself to defeat that cruel look that Aemond seemed to maintain all the time. Several of the maids ran to help Jaehaera undress her and she just sighed sadly. She was the living example of what the war had done to the children who had spent their childhood in it. Aemond worried that she was so lonely, but he too had been a lonely child, and he hadn't fared so badly, had he? The tailor was preparing to leave when Aemond spoke with authority.

"Wait," he said, taking his hands behind his back and slowly approaching that man. The new dress twisted in his hands. Aemond's presence was more than any of this fortress could bear. “The other dress that I ordered you…” he began saying, but the tailor interrupted him.

"Is that dress also for the princess, my lord?" he asked confused, but soon realized his mistake. He had interrupted the one-eyed man at his request. Fear could be seen in his eyes at such audacity, and Aemond only smirked, as if taking mental note of the challenge.

“Do you think Princess Jaehaera will wear so many see-throughs at a tournament holding?” he asked arrogantly, perversely inviting that man to interrupt him again. Aemond couldn't see it, but Jaehaera looked at him for a moment in confusion. Finally, she just continued to be dressed by her maids.

"No, of course not, my lord," the tailor replied quickly, almost bowing to be forgiven. Aemond smiled again, amused by the situation, and returned to square himself on the ground, maintaining his always powerful posture.

"The girl who has to put it on is already here," he informed without expressing any emotion, although he was excited by the prospect of seeing you in that dress. "Tomorrow I would like you to come back with it and we can try it out to her"

"So it will be done, my lord," said the tailor, bowing a thousand times, just before leaving. Aemond smirked again and turned away. Jaehaera was already dressed again and she had leaned on the balustrade of the balcony that overlooked her room. Aemond moved to stand beside her. It was a good day.

“Hm, today is a good day for flying” was all he said and Jaehaera didn't even look at him. She this she kept watching as Morghul, her dragon, and Tessarion, Daeron's dragon, flew together through the sky, almost in perfect synchrony. Two more of the few survivors of the Dance "Maybe we could go flying together today." Aemond tried to sound excited at the prospect of spending time with her, but he knew it didn't sound natural. Few things moved Aemond anymore.

"Uncle Daeron and I already said we'd go flying together today," she whispered back. "But thank you, Uncle Aemond." Jaehaera had enjoyed the stories Aemond had told her when she'd been a child, but that was all. The beautiful memories that the princess had of her 'Uncle'. Aemond was not a loving and charming man like Daeron, not even a man given to pleasure like Aegon. He only knew obligation and duty.

Aemond turned, ready to leave Jaehaera's chambers. He would spend the rest of his day until dinner in the library. He could go see Helaena or his mother, but he would only find them mourning the loss and damage of the war. Aemond Targaryen must have been the loneliest and most feared man in the seven kingdoms.

You felt your skin burn, completely stung by the victory of that sponge she had used to scrub your body. You had told that girl, which had gone to attend to you in the bathroom, that you knew how to clean yourself. But she this she seemed to have despaired seeing your soft and slow movements during the bath and had ended up taking the sponge and doing it herself. It was clear that she used to work fast. She must not have given her time to do all his tasks in that big castle. She finally looked at you with relief when you got out of the tub and began to dry yourself off. You did it briskly while she sighed with relief and began to prepare her dress for that night.

“At least you know how to dry yourself. That reassures me” the woman told you as she took out a garment from her own trunk that she herself had brought there “By the way, my name is Mistra. I'm going to be the one to help you bathe and dress for the time you're here” she sighed tiredly as she took another green garment out of the new trunk.

"I have brought my own clothes" you answered her, pointing to the trunk that she had prepared for you in Driftmark before leaving. You walked over wrapped in the towel, and when you opened it, it smelled like home. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you didn't cry. You couldn't cry there, when would you come back? Maybe never and that saddened you more.

Mistra looked at you for a single moment as if she took pity on you, but she only continued afterwards preparing the green dress while she watched as you looked for another one in your trunk. You brought her a black dress, with the heraldry of the Targaryens with turquoise blue motifs. You liked that dress. You showed it. As if it were what you wanted to wear and the poor woman smiled sadly, as if that garment reminded her of better times.

"You can't wear that garment. Come on, it would give the one-eyed man and her mother a heart attack if they see you with that ” she spoke to you as if you were in Driftmark. You smiled at her crazy ways, but then you remembered your father's words. You couldn't trust anyone, what if that woman and her words were just a way for you to fall into Aemond's trap? Your smile faded at that moment and the woman noticed it. You remained silent while she dressed you. You saw your reflection in the mirror. You were dressed completely green. You didn't like it and you looked the other way. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. We all did it when they won” Mistra sighed, and you turned to look in the mirror. You wanted to go home.

Aegon took another swallow from his wineglass, until it was empty. "More," he ordered, and the cupbearer came running to refill it almost to the brim. The swollen features and scars that covered part of his face from the war made it almost impossible for Aegon to breathe or drink, but that didn't stop him from drinking. Aemond looked at him. He was sitting in the center of the table, in the king's place. They hadn't started dinner, but Aegon was already on his fourth glass of his wine. Aemond was standing behind him, waiting for the rest of his family to dine. Silence prevailed between the two brothers. Aemond had arrived on time as always, and Aegon had been brought there by the guards, on Aemond's orders. What was not done in that place if it was not under his command? The first to appear were Helaena and Alicent. Helaena was dressed in mourning for her dead children, she had almost lost her mind in those years, and Alicent was carrying her with difficulty to her chair. Aemond came over to help them, while Aegon continued to drink. Looking at the sadness and madness that reigned in that room, Aemond wondered if he had been worth the victory. But of course he was worth it. He was almost king. The room was barely lit, as it always was when Aegon dined with them, as if that would prevent the rest of his family from seeing his burn-scarred body. Now not only was the atmosphere hostile and gloomy, but it was also poorly lit. Aemond heard Daeron's laughter down the hall, and Daeron appeared with Jaehaera on his arm. The young woman's eyes always lit up when she was with her younger uncle, but they soon became dull as she entered the room, seeing that unfortunate spectacle, which more than inspired glory and triumph, exuded fear and grief. Daeron kept smiling, at least he didn't stop doing it even under the circumstances. Always gentle and nice.

“And (Y/N)?” Daeron asked, moving closer to Aemond in a whisper, having released Jaehaera to his mother. “I think you should set her as Jaehaera's lady-in-waiting. They are more or less the same age, and the princess could use a little company” Daeron whispered close to him, genuinely concerned for his niece and the loneliness that surrounded him.

"Since when have you thought and not obeying, brother?" Aemond snapped, giving him a dirty look. He fixed his only eye on his younger brother, as if he wanted to scare him away. But Daeron kept on talking to him.

"Then why did you bring her?" the knight snapped, and Aemond was just about to respond when everyone else in the room fell silent. All eyes were on the small figure that appeared dressed in green through the door of that room where they always dined. Daeron and Aemond looked at you, even Aegon stopped drinking. You felt clearly uncomfortable and looked at the only figure you knew in that room. Aemond was looking at you now with a smirk and moved closer to you. While the guard announced you. “Lady (Y/N) Velaryon” You had never been announced before and you felt your stomach turn. Aemond took your hand and led you before the others in the room. You saw Queen Mother Alicent sigh as if she didn't believe what was happening, as if the last place she expected to see you was there. She looked at her middle son as if after dinner she was going to talk to him. Aemond led you to the center of the room and there he released you. Daeron smiled as he stepped behind a young woman who must have been a little older than your age, with violet eyes and silver hair. She must be Princess Jaehaera. Daeron placed a hand on her shoulder and caressed her. You felt yourself as if you were a dog that had just been adopted, a pet for the use and enjoyment of that family. You looked at Queen Helaena, who was staring at the ground, almost as if she wasn't there.

"So, in the end, Jace did know where to put his cock" Aegon laughed, raising the glass to his misshapen lips and watching you in silence, almost as if devouring you. Everything that Aemond's cold, distant gaze hid was shooting out of Aegon's eyes. You have never felt so exposed. They introduced you to everyone who was there. That's how you met the princess, the queen and the queen mother. The latter didn't even dare to look at you, as if your presence only bothered her. But, the worst was when arrived at Aegon II's turn. He made you kneel before him and forced you to kiss one of the rings he was wearing. You realized that the war had destroyed him, but he tried to smile at you with his best smile and spoke to his brother with an amused tone “Aemond. Very good acquisition. She's very pretty when she's kneeling down.” You felt your cheeks turn red and you looked down at the ground.

Aemond did not reply. He only told you to sit down for dinner in one of the corners of the table, next to the princess. You prayed before dinner, much to your bewilderment, because in Driftmark few times they thanked the sitters before dinner, but you weathered it the best you could. You opened your eyes in half of the offering, and while you saw Aemond also with his only eye closed, Aegon looked at you funny, at the same time that he drank from his cup. He even winked at you and you closed yours again tightly. You didn't know if you could get used to that. Once the prayers were over, you began to eat. While Aegon ate without measure, the others took small bites. It even seemed to you that Aemond did not even take any food to his mouth, only occasionally his glass of wine.

Daeron was the only one smiling at that table. His eyes lit up every time he looked at Jaehaera and tried to get the two of you to talk, without much success. Everyone at that table seemed sad, and you could only be lost in thought as you turned the food on your plate.

"What a pretty little girl," Aegon whispered to Aemond, who, as always, had sat to his right at that dinner. He brought the glass back to his lips without taking his eyes off of you. You didn't even see it, too deep in your sadness to attend to anything else "Do you think that she already...? You know?" he indicated his younger brother with a suggestive grin, taking a sip again. Aemond didn't even speak. I just take another small sip from his glass. His throat was suddenly dry from imagining Aegon in the same bed as you. He was sure that it was the idea that was going through the king's rotten head at that moment.

"According to her parents she hasn't bled yet," Aemond replied for the first time taking a bite of the pheasant they had served. There was also roast pork, but he never ate pork. It was a matter of principle.

Aegon snorted in amusement at those words. "Yes of course. Those boobs belong to a girl who doesn't bleed” said the king without taking his eyes off your cleavage. Aemond had you had another of the green dresses put on you for his enjoyment. Not Aegon's.

"Anyway, your grace is not going to fuck her" Aemond replied without looking at him, continuing to eat, wishing his brother would shut up for once. He leered at you with the only good eye of his. You were very pretty that night, but he wasn't going to touch you. He had promised himself. He wasn't going to fall under the spell of legs spreading for him again. What had happened with Alys was proof of that. He couldn't fail on such base instinct again.

“So… have you brought her for yourself? To Fuck her and deliver the final blow to those bastards?” Aegon laughed, finally breaking away from whispering in Aemond's ear with his alcohol-laden breath. The one-eyed man on that occasion looked at him in a bad way.

"No. I just want to prevent her parents from trading her for something that could be a threat to our power” he said through his teeth, trying to explain, as if that was the only excuse for which he had brought you there.

"You will speak ‘your power’" Aegon replied as he returned his attention to his food. Was it the only reason? Well, he also felt that he controlled Jace that way and any desire for rebellion that much better. He now he had a hostage in king's landing. Those were all the reasons why he had brought you here. He lied to himself.

Helaena made no sound. Since she had lost Maelor and Jaehaerys, she had not enjoyed any of his encounters with Aemond. With her gaze fixed on the ceiling, she waited for her brother to finish his duty. She didn't want to get pregnant again, but she prayed to all seven of them for it every night Aemond came to her. At the beginning of marrying Aegon, Aemond's visits had begun to happen due to the lack of appreciation that the king had had for Helaena. She needed an heir, and Aemond had made her two before the war. They had fulfilled his part of the bargain. Her younger brother had never shown much sign of enjoying it, though she had at first. She had caressed and kissed him in search of a simple touch of love. Aemond had sometimes smiled, sometimes, very rarely, laughed, and sometimes he had returned her kisses. But not now, now it was just the obligation to maintain a status quo that didn't make anyone happy.

Aemond continued his methodical thrusts of her, not even looking at his sister who lay beneath him, her legs spread and her body drenched with the sweat that dripped from his body. Now Aemond was even thinner, but he was still slender and strong. His white skin was seen on many occasions crossed by scars that were even whiter as a result of the Dance and some confrontation that he had had afterwards. He continued his duty by pinning his one eye against the wall. He had undressed out of habit, as if it would help either of them finish sooner, and he had left the eye patch on. They would finish soon. He told himself. He worked on his mind to get aroused. He thought of Alys and the encounters he'd had with her in Harrenhal. Always torrid and passionate. He thought of her seeking his release and continued to move his hips almost desperately to finish. Something like a snarl escaped his lips at that moment, just as he remembered that time he'd fucked Alys on her fours and she'd smiled over her shoulder as if she'd enjoyed it. He wanted to believe that she had enjoyed it.

One of his hands grabbed one of Helaena's thighs and moved her under him. He was close to his climax. He buried his head in the pillows. Gods. He pictured you. It was a simple moment. You, like Alys, seemed to enjoy it. You screamed his name like he was a god while you cumed. All your hair scattered across the pillow as he kept pounding into you. You yelled at him that you loved him and he still didn't slow down. He growled again and gave two last thrusts that released him from the tension that had occurred in his lower stomach. He had verified in recent times that if he thought of you, that duty became a little more enjoyable. He came out from between Helaena's legs, who was still in that position. The maester had instructed her not to move afterwards, thus increasing the chances of conception.

Aemond got out of bed and went to the table where there was a single glass of wine. He took a drink while he looked out the large window of the room. He heard his sister cry, trying to control herself and return to silence. He placed both hands on the cool stone and stretched out his back. He was tired. But, he realized why he had brought you to King's Landing. You smiled. You were the only person he had seen genuinely smile in all those years. He remembered the first time he had seen you swim on the beach, so smiling and pretty, and he told himself that he also wanted to be the reason for your happiness. He hated himself for wishing for something so stupid.

#aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader

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yumedoca · 2 months

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Non-Urusei Yatsura fans, which of these IS NOT an actual character? (Answers)

The poll is over and thanks to all who voted since it's pretty fun to see how UY characters may seem from an outsider's POV! And since many were curious, here are the answers for the poll. The characters are listed in no particular order, except for the last who will be the fake one so if you just want the actual answer, just scroll down to the end; and since the poll was aimed at non-UY fans, I'll provide context for the real characters' descriptions so there will be character spoilers ahead!!

A cow monster, who is also the most handsome character in the series.

This is Rei, the female lead (Lum)'s ex-fiancee. The description I gave may sound kinda weird but it probably wouldn't sound as weird if I had stated that he has two forms: one being a mostly humanoid form and the other which is the cow monster one. He swaps between forms at random, mostly depending on his mood and comedic timing.

A princess who wants to lose her virginity.

This is Princess Kurama. She's the princess of the alien race, the Karasutengu (Crow Goblins). Since her royal line was fading away because there were no more humanoid men on her planet, Kurama decided to find a suitable man to mate with, but has no luck when it comes to that since her standards are way too high for the any of the males in the series.

A fire breathing bumblebee.

This is Ten. Like his cousin Lum, he is an oni alien and his abilities are to fly and breathe fire. Ten ended up getting a good number of votes in the poll and I'm guessing it's because people thought I meant a literal bumblebee. I gave that description to poke fun at his character design and I'm pretty sure most UY fans were able to recognize him from the description, and his resemblance to bees has been stated in canon too. But if you did vote Ten because you thought he was an actual bee, I am so sorry, please don't kill me, I should have added the word 'alien' or 'kid' to the description.

A school nurse who regularly beats up her male students.

This is Sakura. She is a shrine maiden and a school nurse at the main high school in the series. I don't think I need to give much of an explanation for her description; she's hot and all the male students are horny so it shouldn't be a surprise that she beats them all up.

A woman hater whose diet consists of baseballs.

This is Tobimaro Mizunokoji. He hates women, which is most likely a result of spending time with his rival's sister who treated him horribly when they were children (and she still does, by the way; we'll talk about her next). Oh, and as the description says, he can eats baseballs whole.. and is able to spit them out entirely too.

A teenage girl who kills boredom by plotting and attempting murder.

This is Ryoko Mendo. She is a rich, well mannered young lady and her favorite hobby is torturing her big brother and his rival (aka baseball boy from above) in many different ways for fun. I wanted to add a bit more to explain exactly how sadistic she is but the wiki does it better, so have that instead:

She will throw grenades and bombs at people while acting calm and composed, and yet will cry over them when they return to her charred to a crisp. She often acts in total secrecy without telling anyone of her plans, such as setting bombs in a giant Christmas Cake, turning a giant Christmas Tree into a firework, and retaliating to people by setting off bombs near them. She also shows an interest in black magic, having used hypnosis and voodoo dolls to torment her brother.

So yeah, she's fucking insane and I love her for it. Have my favorite Ryoko image ever as a bonus:

A sheltered girl who ends up falling in love with her brother.

This is Asuka Mizunokoji, younger sister of baseball boy from above. I feel like her she needs the most context since I think this might be the most questionable description of them all.

As per tradition, the women in the Mizunokoji family are not allowed to meet a single male until they are 15, this includes their father and brother; which is the case for Asuka. Because she has never seen a man, she doesn't know what they are (or anything that falls under 'men', like father, brother, etc.) and was raised in isolation by her mother and her family's all female guards. But her first, unfortunate encounter with a man, which happened before the arranged day ends up terrifying her and as a result, she gets a phobia of men, no matter who they are... unless they are a 'big brother'. You see, when her female guards' explained to her what men are, they unintentionally had them sound.. scary; but they also tell her about 'big brothers' (since she'll have to meet hers) who are a special type of man who look like her and are very nice. Eventually, she finally meets her big brother, Tobimaro (who didn't even know she existed till then by the way), but since the description on what a 'big brother' given to her was incredibly vague and because she has no knowledge of how siblings work, she ends up falling for him unaware of how big of a taboo it is. Naturally, it is a one-sided crush since Tobimaro knows better but that won't change the fact that it causes a lot of trouble for him.

Ok, I'll stop here because that took forever to write. Also, I took some help to write the above part from Asuka's page on furinkan.com, I needed a reference for the entire paragraph because Asuka and her shtick needs one hell of an explanation.

A TV addict with zero social skills.

This is Shingo. He is a boy who went missing during an experiment when he was small and because of that, he grew up by himself (asides from some animals) in a jungle. His only source of entertainment there was a TV, which only has historical dramas. As a result, he became very attached to TVs (he used to think the TV was his grandfather, and no I will not explain), even after he was found and brought back to society. He is also terrible at socializing since he grew up on Japanese historical dramas which are incredibly outdated. He is already weak when it comes to interacting with men, but he is the worst when it comes to interacting with woman since he has no respect towards them (again, because historical dramas). I find it funny he got a lot of votes and according to tags, it's because his description sounded more normal than the others, which makes it even funnier because he's like the only character who actually watches TV (asides from watching TV during lunchtime and stuff).

A cowardly kid who aims for a life of crime.

And here it is, the fake one! With how many characters there are, it was hard to come up with someone (for some reason, I can't be creative when I really want to be) but after I posted the poll I realized that there is a minor character who fits half of the description: He is a kid who aims for a life of crime, but he is pretty strong willed and isn't exactly what you would call cowardly or timid (His name is Kintaro, in case you are wondering- he is only in the manga and 80's adaptation).

And that is all! Thanks for joining me here and I hope you have a great day ahead!!

#again i am so sorry about the ten thing #urusei yatsura #うる星やつら #urusei yatsura 2022 #anime #manga #animanga #rei #kurama #sakura #ten #tobimaro mizunokoji #ryoko mendo #asuka mizunokoji #shingo #kintaro #god i love them sm #this was insanely hard to write i am not doing this again

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coeluvr · 7 months

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Since my bot is that crazy and a blabbermouth and the majority voted yes, I might as well post this since it will come with the codex anyway (I live to share things and I can't keep my mouth shut) 🤭

This will be in the rumors section, I haven't gotten to properly name it yet, so not everything you read is true. After all, no one truly knows what happens behind closed doors.

•

Born to King Afonso’s concubine, Luceris bore the weight of royalty without reaping its customary luxuries. His childhood was marred by the stark contrast between his princely title and his impoverished existence.

Young Luceris, often seen clad in tattered garments, bore the visible scars of a difficult upbringing—bruises on his tender skin, evidence of a tumultuous existence.

Within the palace walls, Crown Prince Hale, the Royal Consort’s son and the heir apparent to the throne, cast a long and ominous shadow over Luceris’ life.

Their relationship was a festering wound, a torment that haunted Luceris throughout his youth. Hale’s malevolence was apparent to those who dared to look beyond the façade of royal prestige.

It was said that Luceris sought solace and intervention from his father. However, the plea fell on deaf ears, the man turned a blind eye to the suffering of his own son.

Tragedy struck the palace a few months later when the untimely demise of Prince Hale was announced. At the tender age of fifteen, his life was extinguished, leaving a void of secrecy and suspicion in his wake.

Officially, the palace attributed his death to natural causes, but whispers and rumors painted a far more sinister tableau. Speculation ran rampant, suggesting that a fierce altercation had transpired between the two young princes, from which only one emerged alive.

•

#crown of ashes and flames #coaaf if: luceris

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 1 year

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Valentine Low's latest,

https://archive.vn/aREov

The Duke of Sussex wanted to cancel the publication of his memoir during his visit to Britain last summer, a US publishing source has claimed.

The team working on Spare, the duke’s memoir, were believed to have been told: “He’s pulled it. He doesn’t want to do it.”

Harry is understood to have had second thoughts about going ahead with the book, for which he was paid a multimillion-pound advance, when he was in the UK for the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee celebrations in June.

Insiders at Penguin Random House speculated that the royal family told him that if the book were published while Queen Elizabeth was alive there would be “no way back”.

The source, who was involved in the publication of Spare, said: “The book was all ready to go but visiting his grandmother he had second thoughts.

“That was such a dark day. Everyone had been working so hard on this project in utmost secrecy — and with the expectation this would turn out to be one of the biggest and most historic books we would ever get to publish.

lol

I worked for years with the publishing industry and believe in supporting it but can't deny I'm laughing at Penguin Random House getting Markled like this by Spanish Epiphany. Historic? Harry's frostbitten penis? A broken dog dish? Unhappily shared lip gloss? It's Meghan and Harry's slam book.

Also,

The source also described how the book had to be translated from American English into the British tongue.

“It was extraordinary. A member of the royal family describing everything as ‘awesome’ and using phraseology like: ‘We had gotten ourselves into a difficult situation’ — we had to go through the whole manuscript to make it sound like he was actually English.”

Probably the best and most salient part of the story,

During one Zoom call the young children of a senior publishing executive accidentally walked past his computer screen and a furious Harry demanded that he be removed from the project. “Prince Harry’s whole thing is about control,” the insider said. “He feels he’s never had it — but boy did he demand it with this book.”

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liyawritesss · 1 year

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ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ ; ᴘᴀʀᴛ ll

ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ʙᴏʀɴ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴅᴏʟʟᴀʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪx ᴅɪᴍᴇꜱ

Characters: MCU!Shuri Udaku x Black!Masc!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 6.8k

Synopsis: Your return to Wakanda is welcomed, but there is no time for celebration. In preparing defenses against Talokan, you urge Shuri to concoct a serum that would enhance your abilities for the fight to come, despite knowing the complications it comes with.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of reader having post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), mentions of medical tools such as syringes, blood from said syringe, body convulsing, major character death (rest in power queen ramonda)

A/N: here is the second part of this series! I sincerely want to thank @kingstormpostsshit for originally pitching this idea and allowing me to turn it into a series. This one goes out to all the masc women out there cuz we deserve some love too ‼️

Tags: @inmyheadimobsessed @badass-dora-milaje @babyboiboyega @verachii @heartsforjojo @letitias-fav @kingstormpostsshit @shurismainbxtch @zayswriting @rxcently @nzia-writes @writingintheshadowsforever @hufflehans @kokichiis7 @xxmilli @typicalme111 @zestgodtj @generallysapphic @ziayamikaelson @shuriszn @yvxmpire @justariellove @n7cje

“Is she not going to come in?”

Shuri’s hopeful look only makes it harder for T’Challa to break the news to his dear sister - that you had absolutely refused to step foot into her lab. Even after multiple attempts at coaxing you with persuasive words, the crowned prince had only managed to get you to the hallway, and you wouldn’t go any further. In an attempt to compromise the situation, he allowed you to examine the vibranium-laced walls that made the hallway shine a bright blue color and the glass tanks of fish that lined the walls, while T’Challa ventured further into the laboratory to fetch Shuri.

Quite frankly, T’Challa had never been more nervous in his life. In an ideal world, he’d want for you and Shuri to get along well. He believed it good that you had some sort of companionship, especially for the times when he would not be around. Given the fact that you and Shuri were in the same age range, he felt that it would be a good start to integrating you into regular life.

Though, this was not an ideal world, as he is reminded of every time he looks at you, and remembers why you’re even here.

“Remember, Shuri,” T’Challa eases, “she’s not very…fond of labs.”

Shuri is fifteen and easily excitable, so the arrival of a possible new friend had the young princess smiling uncontrollably the entire morning. It was nearly impossible for T’Challa to keep knowledge of you a secret from his little sister - more or less because her brilliance would allow her to uncover any secret within minutes of noticing an air of secrecy. Therefore, the crowned prince felt it necessary for at least the royal family to be aware of your existence, and that there was a possibility of introducing you into Wakandan life if integration into the Avenger’s at home base proved difficult.

The one aspect of you that would make things a bit difficult with your assimilation, however, was the very place he stood in with his young sister. With different beeps and clicks and whirring of machinery, as well as the pristine whiteness of the lab, would surely trigger unpleasant thoughts and memories of your past. And Bast forbid T’Challa would put you through that, by any means necessary.

So it didn’t confuse T’Challa when Shuri’s smile faltered slightly at the news of your refusal.

“She is in the hallway, though,” He hums in an attempt to pick up Shuri’s spirits, and it works. Upon hearing this, Shuri is all but ready to sprint out of her seat, but T’Challa’s towering figure calms her eagerness, as he isn’t done explaining just yet.

“We will have to be patient with her, dear sister,” T’Challa continues, “so we will have to meet her half way in a lot of areas.”

Shuri tilts her head to the side a bit, furrowing her eyebrows at T’Challa’s statement. The young princess was made aware of your unfortunate previous situations, but even T’Challa could see that she found it a bit difficult to grasp your resistance to certain situations. In her young mind, things were much simpler. You were in a safe place, so should you not feel safe? Wakanda’s technology was made to help, not harm, so why were you so wary?

In many ways, T’Challa viewed Shuri’s innocence to the horrors of the outside world as a blessing. However, there were times where he dreaded having to explain complex concepts to a young mind that seemed to have a simple answer to everything. Because in reality, the world was not simple, and neither was your situation.

“I thought you said she was an Avenger?” Shuri questions as the two begin to walk to the aforementioned threshold to the hallway. From her understanding, and observations from T’Challa’s own affiliation with the group, she believed Avengers to be fearless people, and had expected that same rhetoric to apply to you.

“She is, though, not for the reason you may think.”

Bounding the corner, T’Challa and Shuri’s pace come to a halt at the sight of your curious figure examining the walls embedded with vibranium up close. Your hand traces down the length of a sliver of the precious material, the blue glow from it dancing beautifully on your skin. Your curls fall messily over your face, obscuring your visual, and the Princess finds herself entranced by the mystery girl who refuses to enter her sanctuary, but seemingly finds solace in toeing the line.

The sight leaves Shuri holding her breath.

The royal sibling’s arrival startles you as you see them come from around the corner. You immediately pull away from the wall, which held your attention while T’Challa went inside to fetch his sister. Now your feet were planted stiffly in the middle of the walkway, and your body shrunk further into your already baggy clothes. The exchange that followed could be likened to that of a human introducing two infant kittens to one another; as T’Challa began walking closer to you, gesturing for Shuri to follow. By the time the princess stood in front of you, your body was rigid with discomfort.

You hated meeting new people. Especially new people you couldn’t read right away.

“(Y/N), this is Shuri, my sister,” T’Challa introduces, gesturing to the ball of energy that stands in front of you, who is trying her best not to make any sudden movements that would frighten you. “You both are around the same age. I think it would be nice for you two to get acquainted with one another, yes?”

Your gaze shifts between the two siblings, eying them down, attempting to uncover some secret plot or scheme they could have concocted together. Though, the more you look at them, the less likely that is. Unlikely, because you know T’Challa, and the man had proven to you numerous times that he would make no move to put you in harm's way. And despite the giddiness that simply bleeds from the girl in front of you, part of you determines that she is the same.

“Hi!” The princess starts, her voice high and eager, and the suddenness of her greeting almost causes you to step back.

Almost, but you don’t.

T’Challa radiates warmth and protection. He is soft and gentle and attentive, and he has a knack for compromising that has helped him, help you. His eyes encompass security, and looking into them lowers your guard and relinquishes trust to the crowned prince.

His sister, Shuri, is a beam of unforeseen light, brighter than the blue mineral that shines on the three of you. Ambition seeps from her pores and there is a thick air of curiosity around her, of which you visibly see her trying to keep under control.

Yet, when you look into her eyes, it is the same as T’Challa’s. They are warm, inviting, and it makes you remember your humanity.

“Hi.”

The memory leaves you the moment you open your eyes back to the real world.

It’s a fond memory, that much is clear by the way your eyes soften at the thought of the pair of you, innocent in your youth. When times were simpler and for the first time in your life, you didn’t have walls guarding your person, and you were allowed to be vulnerable when needed.

“Does it feel different, being back in Wakanda?”

Ayo’s question had been mulling over in your head since you’d landed. It loomed over you like a cloud, uncertain in your answer.

You had been gone for almost a decade. You’d lost your accent that you adopted from the people, and your guarded walls had all but rebuilt themselves in your time away. Warmth exuded from the land itself, but you found it hard to embrace it.

After all, who could, when your return home is due to an underwater nation ensuing war with it?

There were times you would lie awake at night, playing reels in your head, planning your return home. How Queen Ramonda and T’Challa would embrace you deeply, delighted for the return of their daughter, their sister. How Shuri would embrace you deeply, euphoria washing over the both of you, having been returned safely into each other's arms.

“If anything, I wish I could’ve come back on different terms.”

Ayo and you walk in tandem with one another, your set destination being the Design Group laboratory, where Shuri was currently working.

The minute she stepped off the ship, Shuri’s feet carried her to her lab. She was silent as her figure walked off into the distance, only disappearing when you turned to the queen to accompany her back to the palace with the young American scientist.

You knew why she was so brisk in her getaway; Shuri wasn’t that hard to read to you. She knew what had been set in motion with your actions back at that underwater cave, probably more than what you had determined yourself just from your observations of the entire situation. There was no doubt in your mind that Shuri’s beeline to her sanctuary, her laboratory, was to prepare defensive measures just as much as it was to quell the buzzing in her head from everything that’s come to pass.

“For what it is worth, Wakanda is grateful for your return.” Ayo hums as the both of you round the corner to the entrance of the laboratory. You could hear your feet treading on the glass floor beneath you, and the sun's rays from outside disappeared as you were enveloped in the cold blue glow that the vibranium gave off.

Your feet slowed, as the sound of machinery and murmuring voices grew louder the closer you came to crossing the threshold. It was overwhelming for you, even after almost a decade away. The looming ambiguity of the lab washed over you the same way it always had, with its pristine cleanliness, crisp white interior, and technology at any turn.

It made you feel sick, and yet, you pushed forward.

“Princess, (Y/N) has entered the laboratory,” Griot’s familiar voice echoes alerting Shuri of your arrival. She had been looking at a holographic screen, with scribbles and notes of equations and various charts that you were never able to understand. She turns to you, and as Ayo leaves the two of you alone in her little sector of the lab, another blanket of ambiguity makes itself comfortable atop your shoulders.

“Hi.

“Hi.”

The greeting is short and curt, and you’re almost certain it’s due to Shuri’s defense mechanism. She’s on the defensive, trying to keep herself in tact.

“I didn’t think you’d come here,” Shuri confesses, turning back to her holographic screen. She’s recalibrating something, that much can be determined, and while it is important and holds most of her attention, it also acts as a distraction. In truth, she doesn't think she can stand looking at you for too long without certain thoughts intruding. Certain thoughts she longed to act on the moment she saw you, thoughts that were housed in her dreams, of which detailed your return to Wakanda on brighter terms, “I would have met you elsewhere if you needed me.”

“What I’m about to ask you can only be done here.”

Shuri pauses in her movements, turning to you once more. You step closer to her, growing so close her arm makes contact with your chest. It’s a slight touch, with the fabric of your shirt and her jumpsuit clashing, and the ever so light contact of your body onto hers, but even so, it causes the princess to slightly pull away. If things were different, perhaps Shuri would have fallen into the touch, but in this case, she resists, despite her body screaming otherwise.

“Can we talk,” you mutter, low enough for only to hear, “somewhere where there isn’t a bunch of people?”

The people aren’t mainly what you’re concerned about, Shuri knows this. She knows this because the grip you have on her elbow is one she’s familiar with despite not having felt it in years. You never liked prying ears, especially when it came to discussing yourself, your powers, your state of being. She also knows because when her gaze shifts to your eyes, they scream with not only the desire for privacy, but also rising anxiety, and she’s sure it’s because of the technology that surrounds the both of you. It’s overwhelming, she’ll be the first to admit that, and while it has brought her more comfort than anything in the world, she remembers how damaging the very premises is to you.

Glancing between you and the holographic screen in front of her, Shuri nods, sets down her stylus, and closes the screen out. She takes the first steps away from her desk, and you follow right after.

The Wakandan royal leads you to the upper level of the laboratory, where there’s significantly less lab personnel, making the space quieter and private, and further into an unguarded hallway, where the blue glow from the vibranium laced in the walls dances on both of your faces so prettily.

Shuri looks at you, determining the look on your face being that of worry and uncertainty. “What are you thinking?”

A sigh protrudes your lips, your gaze falling everywhere but on the princess herself. “I feel it, Shuri.”

She cocks an eyebrow at your statement. “Feel what?”

“The poison- or whatever the fuck he injected me with,” you clarify, the memory of such an encounter still fresh and painful in your mind, “I feel it. It’s heavy, like- like lead. I don’t know what it is, but it’s fucking with my nerves, and thats why I can’t control anything.”

Your revelation only brings more questions to the princess. “How do you know?”

“I’ve felt it before…back in that lab.”

Shuri shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She holds your gaze firmly; it brings you an odd sense of comfort.

“When I was blacked out, memories started coming up. I remember being strapped to a table when those scientists did it, and it was the same exact feeling, pain and all.”

There was a lump of discomfort that formed in Shuri’s stomach from your recollection, as she was still in the dark as to what exactly happened to you when in captivity in those caves. The only thing she’s certain of is that the image of your limp figure being brought to her on a stretcher would always haunt her memories.

“I know there’s a cure for it, because those scientists had it, and that fucker probably knew about it, and if anyone can figure it out, it’s you.”

“What are you asking of me, (Y/N)?”

You’ve always hated this laboratory. Anything technology related, you were extremely apprehensive of, given its dark link to your past. And to think, you had come to a point in your life where you actually needed it for something.

“I need you to take my blood-” you begin, outstretching your arm with the underside of your elbow facing up, of which catches Shuri’s attention, “-and make a serum to get me back at one hundred percent-.”

“No,” Shuri’s response is almost immediate, her gaze refusing to rest onto your exposed arm. She doesn’t wish to think about it, think about causing you harm. She begins to walk away, but you’re quick to grab her arm and bring her back to you. It’s a desperate touch, one that’s strong with the longing for closeness. Shuri should know better, but her body betrays her desire to keep to herself, one of her dark hands hesitantly running the length of your arm as she shakes her head, “I can’t- I can’t do that to you-”

“There’s no other way, Shuri,” you interject, and with the same arm you had exposed to her, your hand, as well as the other, come to grasp her upper arm, desiring contact with the princess. “You think I’d ask this if there was any other option?”

Shuri swallows thickly, her gaze returning to yours.

“Wakanda needs all the help it can get right now. I can’t be fightin’ with half-assed powers out here. If there’s anyone on this god-forsaken planet that can recreate that serum, it’s you, Shuri.”

The princess is silent. It was the kind of silence you hated around her. It was the silence she held when she knew she had to do something, but was still considering against it. She was always stubborn and argumentative; and it was a blessing and a curse; endearing, but nevertheless, infuriating. But you knew the only reason she didn’t want to do it was because it would hurt you on so many levels.

But you couldn’t think about yourselves individually, when soon, an entire nation was at risk of feeling the consequences of your actions.

Shuri curses under her breath, taking hold of your hand and dragging you back into the main room of the laboratory. She positions you near an untouched counter, and goes off to one of the many cabinets surrounding the room. You have no doubt she’s fishing around for medical tools, and you are proven correct when she comes back to your side with a variety of items you were familiar with.

“I’ll need a full vial-” she begins, it’s the start of her rambling, over-explaining herself as a result of guilt. She’s guilty because she knows she’s going to hurt you, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

“-I know-” you reply, as she takes your arm into her hands, swabbing down the juncture where your vein protrudes against your skin with an isopropyl alcohol wipe.

“-and it is going to hurt-”

Shuri preps an empty syringe, the needle glistening in the crisp white overhead light.

“-I know-”

Your hand starts to reach up to Shuri’s face.

“-your PTSD might flare up-”

“Shuri.” The princess’s rambling ceases when your hand comes in contact with her face, caressing her cheek and directing her gaze to yours. It’s your turn for your eyes to ease her mind.

“I’ll be fine.”

Shuri takes your word for it. “Don’t look.”

You feel an uncomfortably familiar pinch in your arm, letting you know that the syringe has pierced your skin and has started drawing blood. You wince, jumping from the contact. The thought of it, its very presence in your body makes your chest tighten, but just as quickly as you feel the pinch of the needle, Shuri pulls it out, and a soreness replaces it. You release your breath.

Shuri’s nimble hands make quick work at wrapping gauze around the middle of your arm to cover the puncture wound. She transfers your blood from the syringe into the vial, walks over to a nearby synthesizer, and gives direction to Griot as she drops it into one of its many slot.

“Griot, synthesize (Y/N)’s blood and find whatever was used to incapacitate her. Then detect any possible antibodies for antidote production.”

Suddenly, you're sixteen again, and you’re meeting Princess Shuri for the first time.

You couldn’t deny that all of this, the suddenness of everything, was starting to get to you.

You were just starting to get the hang of this thing called ‘life’ when you bunkered down in Massachusetts. You’d chosen a decent part of the city to dwell in, one where chaos was known to ensue, thinking that the chaos of Boston would give you a great cover. It was a good advantage point, near all the needed stores and shops and institutions, near the water, and would have served you well in your hiding. It would have been the fifth place you had moved to since your departure from Wakanda, but you didn’t much mind the back and forth, state hopping thing. It oddly provided you with a level of thrill you hadn’t felt since your Avenger days.

But this - being pulled into a war with an underwater nation - this was almost too much. Even with the experiences and skill set under your belt.

You watch as Shuri busies herself, preparing the serum that had been synthesized. You were laying on a table, about to have said serum administered to you. Though the setting was uncomfortable, sparking memories you’d long ago buried, you knew what you had to do to get things done. And if it meant sacrificing your comfort for a few minutes, then so be it.

Well, you’d be sacrificing more than your comfort, but Shuri didn’t need to know that.

“Are you sure this is alright?”

Shuri’s voice is filled with concern, rightfully so, given your history with these sorts of things. The listed side effects for this serum, of which Griot was so gracious to point out to her, did very little to comfort the already anxious princess, mainly because they weren’t just the ‘simple’ side effects that could be cured with rest and herbal medicine.

Hypertension, blood clotting, muscle spasms, nerval pain - it sounded like it would be doing more harm than good to you.

You knew the risks; of course you knew the risks, as you endured this same ritual long before your presence was known to Shuri. But knowing she would refuse if you told her just how much agonizing pain you’d be in from the serum alone, not to mention the stripping agent that was used on you prior would surely increase the level of agony you’d be in - if she knew you would be subject to waves torture from it, she would have never agreed.

So, you lied.

“Yeah- yeah, it’ll be fine,” you replied.

Shuri was still hesitant though, as she walked over to your lying figure, syringe in hand. You took a deep breath, attempting to calm your nerves, as she looked you in your eyes for confirmation to continue.

Her eyes always held a whirlwind of emotions, you remember. Those chocolate brown irises were home to sparkles of happiness, of thoughtfulness, of anger and distress, of guilt and agitation, always carrying the weight of having to prove herself to people, to her people; the same people who were suppose to uplift her, but who instead doubted her and mocked her brilliance.

Right now, her eyes screamed unease. “I don’t want to do this if it’ll hurt you-”

You quickly placed your hand over hers, which rested beside your hip, and gave it a light squeeze. “Shuri, I’ll be fine,” you reiterated, “please…just do it.”

There was a pause, a moment of reflection, before Shuri did as told. The injection itself was short and swift, and Shuri found herself holding her breath with anticipation, her stomach tightening with panic as the scientist in her tried to decipher what would happen next.

But nothing came as fast as she had expected it to, and so, she made the mistake of letting go of the breath she was holding. The princess had only turned to set the syringe down, to have herself take a deep breath to prepare for one of the side effects she was sure would ensue, but in the split second she turned her back to you, a loud thud rang out in the tiny medical testing space.

Shuri spun right on her heels to see an empty table, and she didn’t have to look much further before she saw you, on the ground, heaving and wincing heavily at the pain that was coursing through your veins. You were trying your best not to scream, hands balled into tight fists, your nails surely breaking the skin of your palms as you tried to keep everything together.

Before she could comprehend her movements, Shuri was at your side again, unsure of how to bring you any comfort, but nevertheless, allowing the sudden urge to console you overtake her senses.

She’s on her knees here, and despite your attempts to swat away her hands, to push her away out of fear of you hurting her, the princess grasps onto yours and holds them tight. The sight of you gritting your teething, grunting, groaning, spewing curses of which Shuri had never heard before; it was traumatizing to watch, especially when Shuri began noticing your veins protruding against your skin with a deep, royal purple, despite the darkness your skin tone held.

Shuri wasn’t sure how many minutes had passed before your convulsing body began to calm down, leaning in to her touch. There were tears in Shuri’s eyes, but she did not let them fall, selfishly not wanting you to worry about her, but the other signs of distress weren’t easily quelled. The quivering lips, her own heavy breathing, the trembles that racked through her body; Shuri’s mind fell into disarray at the sight of your vulnerable body in agony. And she could not do anything about it.

Shuri isn’t sure if it was the pain or the exhaustion from your desperate struggle to keep any screams or cries within that caused you to pass out, but nevertheless, she continued to hold your body in a silent prayer; because even though she was there when you woke up once before from this, the thought of losing you haunted her now more than ever. Even when two Dora soldiers come to the entrance upon hearing the loud thud of your body on the ground, offering to hoist your body back up onto the table, and your vitals appeared back on the screen, her worries did not rest.

Shuri had already lost a piece of her heart, and she couldn’t bear to lose another.

You weren’t used to this.

You took your time walking through the royal garden, it’s location sat high in the palace to receive the best sunlight for the plants inside, and for the moonlight to shine beautifully within its glass walls. There were plants here you’d never seen before, never heard of before, of varying sizes, colors, and shapes. The intricate design of the space flowed beautifully, and it truly deserved the title of royal garden. But despite the beauty these plants and flowers held, you were not here to see them.

You’d heard that Queen Ramonda was up here, presumably to enjoy the beauty of the garden. You didn’t know much about queens, or about royalty in general. Being annexed into the royal family by affiliation had given you a glimpse of the royal life, but despite the beauty of it all, you’d determined that a royal’s job wasn’t easy.

T’Challa, for example, was the crowned prince. His father, T’Chaka, a man you’d only seen a handful of times, but according to T’Challa, he was the previous Black Panther. T’Challa didn’t spend his days doing just anything; he didn't indulge in simpler pleasures like food, drink, and woman (in fact, you’d only ever heard him talk about one woman in particular, and you’d come to determine that the lucky lady had the prince wrapped tightly around her finger. After learning the term ‘lovesick’, you’d only ever described T’Challa as that when he spoke of Nakia). T’Challa took up the Black Panther mantle and all the difficulties that came with it - mission after mission, risking his life out on the field for his people.

Shuri, the crowned princess, had burdens on her shoulders that she never showed, too. No one would say it, but it became quite clear very quickly that her youth, brilliance and natural affinity to technology was not accepted amongst the elders on the Royal Council, of the elders of the country. Regardless, she’s proved her capability and remains true to her passion, helping her people with what she knows best.

And Ramonda, the Queen Mother…She wasn’t just a pretty face sitting beside her husband or her son, watching over the decisions they made. She took her title as Queen Mother very seriously, evolving into this maternal figure that everyone looked up to, that everyone could depend on. Whatever one needed, the Queen took great care in aiding that person to the best of her abilities.

And you…you weren’t used to asking for help. But Ramonda was the only person you felt could actually help you.

You’d finally found her, walking unaccompanied, though you assume that the Dora entourage she normally had with her were the same two guarding the entrance of the palace garden. Without much thought, your feet began to pick up the pace to catch up to the Queen, who took notice of another set of steps approaching behind her. She turns, greets you with a warm smile, and stops walking for you to catch up.

“(Y/N), what a pleasure to see you.”

Her tone is warm and inviting, it almost makes the initial anxiety within you fall away. You nod your head down in acknowledgement, then you go to speak, but suddenly your words are gone, and silence is the only thing that leaves your lips. It’s an embarrassing moment, but Ramonda quickly chases the silence away as she asks you to walk with her through the garden.

“How are you enjoying your stay?” The Queen questions. She’s taken a seat in a nearby gazebo, watching you become fascinated with the greenery around you.

“It’s alright,” you mumble in response. Though, you soon remember who’s speaking to you, so you redirect your attention to Ramonda and clarify your reply, “I mean- I like it here. It’s…nice. I can’t complain, I guess.”

“And my son, T’Challa, has been hospitable to you?”

“Oh, yeah. T’s been amazing-” theres a quick pause and a clearing of your throat, as you correct yourself once more, “T’Challa. T’Challa’s been helping me settle in alright.”

Ramonda nods in approval, a light chuckle escaping her lips at the mention of the fond nickname you had given her son.

“And Shuri, my daughter?”

You’d visibly tensed at the mention of the princess. It took everything in you to keep down the heat that rushed to your face.

“Shuri’s cool, too.”

Ramonda gave you a knowing look as you approached the bench she sat on to take a seat, but she did not press further.

“Something troubles you, child,” Ramonda hums as you take your seat, your gaze landing in your lap, unable to make eye contact with the Queen.

“It’s not…’trouble’, really,” you mumbled again. Ramonda tilted her hair slightly, urging you to continue, “I, uh…wanted help with something.”

“Whatever you may need, I will try my best to help.” The Queen eases.

You chewed your lip in thought, a sudden urge to dismiss your original statement, but then, Shuri’s words rung loud in your head. ‘Mama is just like any other mom,’ she said, ‘and you’re like her daughter. She would kill for you; what you are asking of is childsplay. She will agree immediately!’

“Can you, um…” you began, your hands finding each other and fiddling with one another out of nervousness. The Queen remained silent, waiting for you to continue. It was a long pause, and Ramonda was growing slightly concerned, one of her hands moving to rest on your shoulder, but before she could make contact, you spoke up to finish your request.

“Can you help me with my hair?”

You spoke so fast, Ramonda barely caught the words that spilled from your lips. Examining your figure and how tense you seemed, she could tell that you weren’t used to asking for assistance

“Your…hair?” She repeated. You nodded in response, uncertain in your voice, maintaining your gaze in your lap. You weren’t sure what you were waiting for - a hysterical laugh, a lecture, an aggravating tone - but what you were met with was something you didn’t expect.

“Well…what did you have in mind?”

Wait. She’s….actually gonna help you?

You swing your head up and to the side, facing Ramonda with a look of shock on your face. You try to speak, but nothing comes from your throat but sounds of surprise.

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?” Ramonda questions, re-initiating the action of placing her hand on your shoulder.

You honestly thought, if she was willing to help you, she’d recommend a braider of sorts right off the bat. But she was asking you what you’d wanted, and honestly, you hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“I, uh….didn’t think I’d get this far,” you admit, releasing the breath you were holding. Your body relaxed into her touch, “so I don’t have anything, actually…”

Ramonda hums, and you watch as she gives you a once over. You shift a little under her gaze, wondering why she was looking at you so intensely.

“How do you feel about locs?”

“Like…dreads-?”

“Locs, dear. We do not call them ‘dreads’, here. There is nothing dreadful about your hair.” Ramonda is firm in her correction, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was actually becoming your mother here. With her firmness, there’s no room for debate, and so your response is a simple nod.

“Locs- locs, right. Um…I think they’re nice, I guess.”

And it’s here that Ramonda looks at you with an emotion unfamiliar to you. You’ve seen it before, it’s the same way she looks at T’Challa and Shuri; with immense warmth and care, with a desire to nurture and protect. The look of every mother to their child.

“I think you would look beautiful with them.”

By the time you had woken up, an hour had passed.

Unlike when you were in the cave, this regaining of consciousness came smoothly and without troubles, save the dull ache in your head and, oddly, in your arm. You awoke in the same room, only Shuri’s presence was missing. Lifting your upper half up first, you swung your legs off the edge of the table, taking your time to stand up so as to not cause a headrush. While your body was still a bit weak from the effects of the serum, you pressed forward to find the princess.

As soon as you exited the threshold of the medical room, you saw Shuri sat at a workstation with another holographic screen up, presumably the one she was working on hours before your initial arrival. Your eyes scanned the rest of the room, noting that no other laboratory staff were present. Descending down the stairs, you called out to the princess, but the moment she turned to you, vexation was written on her face.

“Woah, woah, woah-” you begin, as Shuri stands on her feet and is fast approaching you, and you can practically feel the heat radiating off of her.

“You lied to me!” Shuri says through gritted teeth.

It’s then you remember her asking you about the serum, whether it would be alright to inject you with it, and your less than truthful response. Her face shows that she knows; that she knew of the side effects before she had even consulted you, which only binds your position further into a corner. Funny how this blinding heat of crossness was exactly what you were trying to avoid, but as always, you’d somehow managed to do the exact opposite.

“Listen, Shuri, I can explain-”

“-explain lying to me? Once more? I would love to hear your reasoning.”

The ‘once more’ stings a little too close for comfort. You know she’s referring to when you originally left Wakanda; when you packed up everything and went back to the very country whose scientists were after you, for the sake of protecting such a sacred place, and its sacred people. It stings because she still doesn’t accept that as the real truth. It makes you think has Shuri made you out to be some villain, and if so, for how long?

“My reasoning?” You scoff, becoming defensive at her accusatory tone. “You know damn well if I told you what would happen, you wouldn’t have agreed in the first place!”

Shuri doesn’t reply to you, instead, she chooses to walk away, frustrated, because she knows you’re right. She wouldn’t have agreed to it, at least, not right off the bat, because despite what she may feel - if she could even put a name to this feeling of desiring your closeness but despising your presence - she could not bear the thought of harm coming to you from her hand.

She tries to walk away, but before she can get far, she feels her arm being tugged back, and she’s forced to turn back around to face you once more. But before another exchange of words can ensue, the ground beneath you two begins to shake, and the light fixtures above you blink in and out from the startlement. You and Shuri share a look of confusion and worry, which is even worsened when Griot’s voice echoes to life with unsettling news.

“Princess, there seems to be an attack on the capital city. The river's defenses have been breached.”

Talokan has started its retaliation.

“What is the damage?” Shuri questions the AI, her tone frantic, as the Griot brings up three screens above the sand table that stands in the middle of the room. One shows camera footage of hysteria overtaking the city; another shows a list of sectors within the city’s defense barriers, some of which show up in red, showing that the defense mechanisms have been compromised; and the last shows a high percentage of the damage done to the defensive barriers and the city itself.

You and Shuri share a look of distress, a void forming in your stomach. Everything starts happening so fast, you can barely keep up with it.

It’s as if a switch had been flipped inside the both of you, one that’s turned off your petty argument and set it to the side, forcing the both of you into action. You direct lab personnel to seek shelter, Shuri is directing Dora soldiers to the landing pad, and in the split second it would take for you to think, you’re up in the air in one of the smaller talon fighters, with Shuri as the pilot, as you sail out into the city.

The damage that Talokan has already done is equivalent to that of a great flood. Thousands of homes submerged in water, and thousands of civilians desperately reaching for higher ground as they are swept away in the current.

You look on at the devastation in panic. Namour was truly a cruel man, retaliating on thousands of innocents for the one life lost. You’d sympathized with him before, but now, all thoughts of sympathizing with this fish man went out the window for you.

Scouring the land beneath you, you spot that Shuri is flying right above the river, and with confidence, you take a leap of faith

“Drop me off at the river!” You suddenly shout to Shuri, who is all but confused.

“What? No! I’m not doing that!”

But she’s too late, you’re already unbuckling your seatbelt and discarding your head gear, reaching past her to slip through the glass opening of the talon fighter, and despite Shuri’s pleas and protests, the howling wind has made your ears deaf. And without a split second to think, you jump.

Shuri’s heart stops as she watches your figure falling from the high altitude, disappearing into said river she was now soaring over. But her horror is soon replaced with awe as she watches the water below swirl into a whirlpool, and gradually rise higher and higher into what she could only describe as a tornado-pool of water from the river, with you in the middle of it.

You gesture for her to continue flying on, and once she’s out of view, you start to focus your energy on the water around you, bonding with the molecules themselves, conjuring up two large water tentacles that encompass your real arms and perform the same motions. With height on your side, able to see the sweeping currents and the civilians struggling against them, and with your new elongated limbs, you start to fish out civilians and survivors, swooping them up in your tendrils and placing them on whatever nearby roofs or hills that withstood the strong flooding currents. Your mind is set on one thing - saving as many people as possible from this onslaught.

When you’ve picked up the last visible civilian you see from the currents, you start to command the whirlpool of water holding you up to shift from one area to another, fishing for more survivors. But as you do, you catch a glimpse of something that makes your heart drop to indescribable depths.

Namour, flying right in front of the palace. Right in front of the glass window of the throne room. And with him, something you can only describe as a water bomb.

The world deafens around you, even to the point where your own scream of terror comes out virtually silent, as you watch the glass break, the throne room flood, and only one word echoes throughout your shattered mind.

Mother.

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