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cassie48 · 2 months

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𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻

King Hal x fem reader.

A/N: In which the king isn’t happy with how his wife, the queen is treated.

(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(

You were chosen to be queen. Hal himself wanted you. But, in some ways, a lot of ways actually, you felt you weren’t meant to be a queen. You were very quiet and innocent, to scared to correct someone or stand up for yourself.

Now, Hal was always there to stand up for you, he was really very protective of you. He threatened men that mocked you, and declared to the people of England that you were his wife, and that they must accept that.

On this particular day, you were sat on a bench in a secluded area of the gardens, hiding from everyone, crying. Earlier that day there had been an incident, leading you to hide away from your husband and those he would send to look for you.

You had been on a stroll, earlier that day. You often went on strolls when Hal would have meetings. On this particular morning, you bumped into a man that served Paul. He was a sort of advisor and helped him stay in order. George, was his name.

You had never really warmed to him, as he constantly made you uncomfortable. He would send you odd looks, when Hal wasn’t looking, sometimes in places that no man but Hal should be looking.

“Sorry George” You said looking at the ground.

“Oh it’s fine your majesty, it’s my fault” he said with a disgusting smirk.

“Do you know where Hal is?” Your sweet voice said, wanting to see your husband.

“He’s busy right now” he told you.

You nodded turning to continue on your walk, when his voice continued.

“I could accompany you, you know” George said not even bothering to address you respectfully.

“Oh, it’s fine, really” you said going to turn.

“Are you sure, I’d like to” he said, clearly wanting you to agree to go with him.

“No really, it would be…improper” you said, with a polite smile, trying to leave.

But, to your shock, he grabbed your upper arm roughly, tracing his finger over your body.

“From what I’ve heard, you’re quite the improper girl” he whispered, his fingers sickly travelling all over you.

“W-What?” You said your voice trembling, pulling back slightly, but it didn’t work.

“The men talk, say that you’ve been quite 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳” he said with a menacing smile.

This was when you lost it, you stared to ball your eyes out, ripping yourself away from his hold, running off to hide in the gardens, crying as you did, that’s where you found the little bench.

(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.

At that same time, Paul was leaving his meeting room, going to see you in your chambers. This was a daily routine for him, he truly loved him.

But a scowl made its way on his face when you weren’t there. “Where is the queen?” He yelled at the servants in the room.

“We, aren’t sure, your majesty” a man answered staring at the ground in fear.

“Is it not your job to take care of her when I’m not?” He yelled rage dripping from his voice as he grew more worried.

“Find her” he demanded with a cold voice.

They all scrambled, running in all directions to search for you, fearing for their lives if they didn’t.

Around an hour later, there was still no sign of you, Hal was getting very impatient. So he went to look for you himself.

He knew your favourite places in the castle and he knew one of which was the gardens, so he made his way there. He had searched almost all the gardens, until her heard a soft crying.

Hal eventually found you on that bench, as soon as he saw you, he was 𝘔𝘢𝘥.

“My love? What’s wrong?” He asked as he sat on the bench too, placing you on his lap.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, continuing to cry loudly into his chest.

“Are you hurt?” He asked with a concerned look on his face.

You nodded your head no and hugged onto him tighter, as the tears fell down your face.

“Love, you have to tell me what’s wrong, so I can fix it” he said kissing your head.

“It was…g-george” you cried.

“What about 𝘎𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦?” He said, his face suddenly becoming cold.

“He, he said I was an improper lady! And h-he was touching me Hal” you hiccuped.

Hals phase froze in anger and shock. George was in the room when Hal first threatened everyone about going near his wife. He made it very clear she was to be shown respect. George was one of his most trusted men. 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

“I’ll deal with him, this won’t happen again” he said kissing your hand.

You eventually lifted your head from his chest, as he wiped your tears from your cheeks.

“C-Can we go for a walk?” Your gentle voice asked.

“Of course, anything for you” Hal answered lifting her off his lap onto the ground, and taking her hand in his.

They walked the grounds talking about everything and anything, happy to be in each others company.

You hugged his side, yawning, suddenly becoming very tired.

“Do you want to retire” he said, his arm around your waist.

You only nodded in response, and you both headed back to your chambers.

He ordered the maids to run a bath for you, before kissing you softly, telling you he had something to take care of, and he’d be back later.

Around one hour later, you lay in the bath, the bubbles covering your naked body, and your eyes closed, enjoying the heat.

The door swung open to reveal your husband once more, but this time with blood on his hands.

“Hal?” Your little voice squeaked.

“It’s not my blood, I only took care of something that needed to be handled” he said sitting beside you, and giving you a kiss on the forehead.

You nodded, your eyes heavy as you leaned into his touch. You yearned to be in bed.

Hal caught onto this, and ordered the maids to help you prepare for bed, and get into your nightdress.

“What did you do to him, George I mean” you whispered, playing with your fingers.

Hal smiled before saying “I taught him a lesson” and giving you a long kiss, and bidding you goodnight.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭,

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯.

A/n

I hope you all enjoyed, I’ve been wanting to write for Hal for some time now so finally I did!!

#timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #prince hal #king hal #henry v x reader #2024 #dune 2024 #paul atreides #timmy chalamet #the king 2019

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chalamet-chalamet · 1 year

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Sleeping Beauty

#timothee chalamet #last photo credit to filmenby on Twitter #one and two #timothée chalamet #bones and all #dune #call me by your name #the king 2019 #beautiful boy #cmbyn #the king

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anthemias · 7 months

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TOM GLYNN-CARNEY as SIR HENRY PERCY in THE KING (2019)

#tom glynn carney #the king 2019 #the king netflix #henry percy #period drama #perioddramaedit #perioddramagif #filmedit #gif edit #anthemiasgifs

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maryqos · 24 days

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Choose your steps wisely, dear brother.

THE KING (2019) dir. David Michôd

#the king #timothée chalamet #thomasin mckenzie #the king 2019 #the king netflix #henry v #philippa of england #tchalametedit #gifshistorical #onlyperioddramas #perioddrama #perioddramaedit #perioddramasource #periodedit #weloveperioddrama #doyouevenfilm #fyeahmovies #*mine

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gulnarsultan · 1 month

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Can you do Yandere King Henry V (From Tge King) courting Reader then making her his Mistress,

" Scenario "

King Henry (v) was the dream man of many women. He was handsome, intelligent, and had a wonderful gift of conversation. You came from an influential family. You came to the palace to look for a groom candidate who would be useful to your family. But fate had other plans. Henry was never a man who believed in love, and especially in love at first sight. However, from the moment he saw you, his heart and mind began to be consumed by you. He was married by duty. But that didn't mean he couldn't have you. After all, it wasn't the first time that a man had several mistresses. He learned a lot of information about you in a short time. It wasn't hard to find an excuse to meet you. In a short time, the courtship period that even you did not know when it started began. Soon after the courtship, Henry had made you his mistress. From now on, you are Henry forever.

#the king 2019 #yandere the king #yandere the king x reader #yandere king henry v #yandere king henry v x reader #yandere historical characters #yandere king #yandere male

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dr-aegon · 3 months

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Tom Glynn-Carney

'The King' premiere at the 76th Venice International Film Festival at Palazzo del Casino on September 2, 2019 in Venice, Italy.

#tom glynn carney #tgc #the king 2019 #i’m not okay #my man is so fine #i want him

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peachypola · 1 year

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#timothée chalamet #sincerely calling all the attention of fanfic writers #timothee hal chalamet playing with his damn rings will be the death of me #timmy #rings #aaahhhhhh #bones and all #luca guadagnino #taylor russell #timothee chalamet #cmbyn #the king 2019 #the french dispatch

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lixzey · 4 months

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against all odds

in which the king sets his eyes upon his queen's lady in waiting.

king hal x reader

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @ashisabitgay @ladyladybuggg @nyrasunderwrld @remussbitch @jadahxx @starrystormwritings @ell0ra-br3kk3r @dreary-salem @drewsandsebastianswife @greenapplegrass @lilianelena39 @haybellewrites @cloudlst @si4a @ev3ningrain @ttulipwritezz @lilmaymayy @bullets-from-another-dimension @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @reg-arcturus-black @marina468 @3stelar @timhalamet @st4rf00k3r @idli-dosa @jimins15thhair @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @thefriendlyneighborhoodmomfriend

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meetmyothersouls · 11 months

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Soft dim hal please?

I'd love to <3

Only Yours

Warnings: first person reader, smut, unprotected sex, cockwarming, breeding, oral, not proofread

I stayed seated as the Hal's dinner guests began leaving, still not knowing quite how this newfound royalty worked. Only married to The King now for a month, I stayed quiet, and I stayed in my place. An arranged marriage didn't allow much time for formalities.

The large oak doors slammed shut, and I heard the clicking of Hal's shoes as he walked back to the large refractory table. My hands in my lap, and my head faced down, I didn't realize that he'd taken his seat once again. He sat at the opposite end, at the head of the table and sighed, swirling red liquid in a goblet before bringing it to his lips.

"I just loathe gatherings like that, don't you?"

"Hmm? Sire?" I said, looking up.

I heard him swallow the liquid and sigh again. He gently placed his goblet down and looked at me. I found it hard to maintain eye contact, thought I knew how rude it would be to break it while he was addressing me. "Still so formal?" He asked quietly.

I feigned confidence, clearing my throat and sat up a bit straighter. I allowed myself the tiniest smile and said, "Well, you are the King."

"And that makes you the Queen, does it not?"

My eyes flicked back to his. The Queen. That was still something I was having trouble accepting. "Yes," I said, my eyes darting back to my lap. "I suppose it does."

"Hmmm," Hal muttered. He scooted his chair back, the wooden legs dragging noisily against the stone floor. I could hear him taking steps toward me and my heart went from a steady beat to a heavy pound. It wasn't that was afraid of him, he seemed nice enough. Letting me have my own room until I was comfortable enough to share his bed with him. He expanded his library since my arrival making sure I had plenty to read since he learned from my father that it was my favorite thing. He gave me sweet smiles in passing. Then there was the matter of his attractiveness. Hal was easy on the eyes, to say the least. Lost in thought, I didn't realize he was standing behind me until his hands lightly grazed my exposed shoulders. "Then when will you allow me to start treating you as one?"

I gasped lightly as his fingers traveled from my shoulders to my neck, not pressing or squeezing but exploring my soft skin. He trailed his fingers to my chin, where he lifted and tilted my head back, until it rested on the back of my chair and my eyes had no other choice but to look up and meet his. Even upside down he was elegant and beautiful. He smiled, a half-smile pulling up one corner of his lips. "Perhaps, right now?"

Unable to speak, I nodded. Hal brought is face closer to mine, his pace slow yet deliberate. Then his lips were against mine. Upside down, what should have been awkward was nothing but. Gracefully, and delicately his lips skated across mine, his tongue sliding out to lick my lips. My heart pounded so intensely I felt it in my ears. The room spun and when Hal pulled away from me, I felt myself sag in my seat. I lifted my head the room suddenly turning back to its normal position.

"Come now," Hal said gently, "I must have more of you."

He began walking, as I eased myself off of my chair, the room still spinning. I swayed gently, knocking my cup off the table. I swore under my breath. In quick strides, Hal was at my side again.

"No matter. If you can't walk, I shall carry you."

Either unable or unwilling to object, Hal lifted me into his arms. Our faces were close as he ascended a winding staircase, and even though he wasn't even remotely out of breath, I felt it silly for him to walk me up the entire set of stairs.

"Hal, I assure you I can walk."

"I'd prefer you to save your energy. For other, more exciting things."

"And what of your energy?"

"I have a surplus."

"Is that so?"

"It is, my dear, y/n."

We reached the top where Hal finally put me down.

"I am not a virgin," I blurted out, hoping it wouldn't be a mistake. "I hope that does not upset you."

Hal stared at me for a moment before shrugging, "only means that I do not have to teach you everything."

The inside of Hal's bedroom was shockingly simple. He had made sure mine was ornate and supplied, while his only contained a bed. One large, simple bed. He spun me around and began unlacing my corset, a tedious task that I hoped he would be able to accomplish quickly.

"Tomorrow, anything you want brought to my room I will have a servant bring. I do not wish to be separate from you any longer."

I nodded in agreement. How was it that I hadn't had anything more than a polite gesture from him in a month and now I felt like I was jumping out of my skin to be with him?

Layers and layers of clothing fell off of me until I stood in nothing but a white slip. My nipples hardened underneath the thin fabric as he spun me back around to face him. A thumb lifted my face up to meet his as he capture my lips with his. Hal kissed me softly, deeply and passionately as he backed me up to the bed. Once my back of my knees hit, I let myself fall back.

"Your clothes?"

"Shhh," Hal said nudging my legs apar with a knee. He dropped down to his and breathed deep between my legs. "Divine," he whispered. Wasting no time, his head was between my legs. He licked my folds earning instant moans from me. He sucked and slurped, pulling my clit into his mouth and rolling it between his lips, flicking it with his tongue. Then came his fingers. First one, then another, pumping in and out of me, curling each time to get me where I needed to be.

"Hal, ahh, " I hissed in pleasure. "Please!"

"Tell me what you want, y/n."

"I want to cum, please let me cum, my King."

He kept a steady pace with his fingers while he gave my clit one last flick with his tongue. I came hard, moaning and arching my back off of his bed.

"That's it, cum for me, my Queen. Good, good." He purred as my body jerked in pleasure. "There she is."

His clothes were off in an instant. I barely had time to recover before he sheathed his cock inside of me. Hal let out a low drawn-out groan as made himself at home. My legs splayed open for him, he began thrusting his hips softly.

"Whose cunt is this?" He growled.

My back arched at his filthy words. I whined, wanting all of him and more. He pinched one of my nipples hard between an index finger and a thumb. "Answer me," Hal demanded. His voice hard yet loving. "Whose cunt is this?"

"It is yours! Yours and only yours!"

"That's right," Hal praised, letting go of my nipple and replacing it with his lips. He suckled tenderly, licking the area he'd just abused, while his cock hit me deep with each thrust. He pulled my nipple with his lips until he let go with a soft pop. "I may not be your first, but believe me when I say I will most definitely be your last, y/n. And we will make love every night until your swollen with my child."

"Halll," I moaned, feeling that intense pressure building in my stomach again.

Hal's thrusts became fast and sloppy, his breathing became erratic and shaky. He buried his face into my neck, sucking on the skin, sending me over the edge. I moaned as I came, pressing my breasts into his chest. Seconds later, I felt him flood me with his warmth. His body jerking and shaking on top of mine as he emptied himself inside of me.

He laid on top of me, his softening cock still deep inside of my pussy as he kissed me. I smiled, an idea forming as I began rolling my hips underneath him.

Hal breathed out a shaky breath, smiling against me. His cock hardening with each movement I made underneath him. He wanted me full of his child. I'd make sure that happened sooner rather than later.

Tags: @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @kteezy997 @sufferingstarlight @xoxoloverb @tropicalrozmajzl @iloveneilperry @syirnge @patronsaintofthetwinks @roseboysareprettier @onlyenoughiamweird

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #writing #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #smut #the king #king henry v x reader #the king 2019 #the king Timothee chalamet #anon #request

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precious-little-scoundrel · 4 months

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Twenty Songs Challenge, written after being so lovingly inducted by the powerhouse that is sweet Mey, @the-ugly-swan . Challenge being to choose twenty favorited songs and write one shots based off of them with any pairing or fandom of my choosing. Being a weirdo and a little burned out in my own created universes beyond the fics already in works, I chose what currently inspired me most, obscure as it is.

Pairing: Henry “Hotspur” Percy and Lady “Kate” Mortimer Percy -early 15th century

Fandom: RPF, Shakespeare? Tom Glynn-Carney’s 5 magnificent minutes of a performance as Hotspur in <The King 2019> the armor alone was amply inspiring. The Hollow Crown fans feel free to imagine whoever, as you like. I love this historical pairing in about any iteration and the plot is drawn from both Shakespeare’s play and real history, the timeline, plot and politics being pretty self explanatory through the incorporated dialogue. NOTE- wordplay ahead with “cur” and “Kerr”, the latter being a Scottish clan holding great enmity with the Percy Family and charged with holding the Scottish side of the border. Also I kept Lady Percy’s name as “Kate” even though it was technically Elizabeth in the records.

Dynamic: a rough northern lord and his too good for him lady -a lady who has, through years of an arranged marriage gone horribly well, come to find his homespun gallantry and blunt ways more than a little intoxicating when knelt before her in amused deference. She could almost find it in herself to be gentle with him -if he hadn’t just started a rebellion whilst away from her at the Capitol.

Dedicated to my wifey @prompted-wordsmith who I did proselytize into the Percy cult one fevered evening with inestimable results, including her contribution of a few choice lines herein.

🕯As it Was ~ Hozier

“There is a roadway, muddy and foxgloved

Never I'd had life enough

My heart is screaming out

And in a few days I would be there, love

Whatever here that's left of me is yours just as it was”

Warnings: 18+ to be safe. a small amount of sexual content, flirtations, a husband and wife touching in public, verbal sparring and talk of making children and use of the word “bred”, swearing, use of the words “cock” and “cunt.”

The sound of hooves in the courtyard rouses Kate from her anxious stupor by the hearth, toilsome grain list forgotten on her lap. The scroll swishes to the floor at her abrupt standing, wafting out of her path as she rushes to the window.

First the clatter of a single, foremost, over-eager rider, followed at a lag by his retinue, skilled riders all and armored as befits the guard of a nobleman. They make such a clatter in the yard when they come in after him. Some petty part of her briefly considers the tactic of staying here in their chambers in protest, a quiet sign of disapproval with his errand, of discontent with his brusque leave taking two weeks agone.

Her Harry would find her anyway, and like it better that she were in their chambers. He would like it well she were so near the bed and like it ill she slighted him in her dutiful welcome -but he would not speak of that. Not one for speaking much, her husband, not on matters that plague her these days, weeks, months. Kate might have it out with him in the old way and slap him about and toss cold quips and get from him little more than the same benign aggravation and good humored laughs between, a couple dozen kisses to her neck and a grapple in the sheets.

That is what talk they would undertake were she to stay up here.

It is that lone, eager, forerunning clatter of his horse that speaks to her, speaks for him. Just as his sword and his reputation and his gruff graciousness has spoken well of him across these northern lands, his eagerness to return to her, to outstrip his men in haste to be back from his fool’s errand and into her embrace -it is all the declaration of devotion she may expect from him. It is the truest form, without jape lacing his tone or tonic of lust clouding his confessions.

Harry Hotspur, as fast to return to his wife as he is to meet a fight.

It is love, of the sort she has grown to be grateful for, and it is that and fear of losing it besides, that rushes her out from their chambers and down the polished steps, out to the great hall and past the giant outer doors, cursing a lousy servant or five and ordering a bath and commissioning supper and refreshments as she goes. The torch flames bend from her flight, a whoosh and a shadow stalking Alnwick Castle’s stone passageways until the gray light of evening pours into her sight from the opened great doors. Squires and stable boys clutter her path but they part as she dashes, nay, only a dignified hasten now, out into the courtyard where nearly all of this fool’s troup have dismounted.

There are doffed helms to the Lady Percy, the jangle of chain mail crinkling with bows and scraps of deference all around them, but she sees only him, with mist dripping on his nose and a face too boyish for the insolence he has returned from discharging.

“Kate.” he utters.

Will ever he say her name lazily? She hopes not, for that alone she will endure the unwarranted cheerfulness with which he greets her on this dire occasion. She has heard it said in anger, in jest and in passion, vows and quips, praise and warning. And now in cheerful pleasure as evening mist soaks her gown and the heavy clunk of her husband's footsteps clang ever near her on the paving stones.

“Lord husband.” she greets, hands folded over her freshly healed womb.

His stride falters and he rocks back on his spurred heels, an arms length away, an embrace so tangible she can see his jaw tick from the watering of his mouth. “Lord husband is it?” he repeats thoughtfully, eyes drifting down to the paving stones for a brief moment as if to recollect some forgotten crime, they flick up soon and in them is jesting scrutiny, “My lady wife rushed all this way, down five corridors and a furlong of Keep only to greet me thus?”

Did her rising breath betray her eagerness? Could he see her in the hall despite his business dismounting?

“Your cheeks are red.” he shows her mercy, some form of it. His form. “But -Lord husband, it is, nevertheless?”

“Unless you would prefer ought else?” she inquires, he had once thought this smile quite chilling, he had admitted after their first babe, now he finds it rousing, he has admitted after their third.

“If it please you.” his shifting stance is noisy, his tabard and sword and still clutched helm a racket of accouterments in the pattering rain.

“I have any number to offer,” she concedes, stepping nearer, a lady’s step, covering one third of the ground between them that he might vanquish in a single stride. Still, he waits. “Knucklehead.” she whispers, her breath a fog and her insult as lost as vapor in the ears of his watching men, her bearing alone must satisfy their curiosity, as must his growing smirk and rising color, “Jackenape.” Another step until each little scar on his face is visible and the little canyons each raindrop make of them. She saw his finger twitching where it grasped his visor “Cur.”

There was the slightest flinch between his brows at that, a furrow that smoothed as his mirthful lips flattened out. “Careful now, lady wife, with words like Kerr* thrown about, my men might think you presumptuous, their lady gone and married to some other, a Scottish laird at that. So sure of my death already, sweet Kate, that you must speak of Kerrs in mine own yard? Ha, ‘pon my word you are qu-“

“Hush!” Her hand, fresh warmed as it was by recent hearthside and rich velvets pressed frimly to his lips, a tingle shooting straight to her toes at touching him at last. He was silent then, only the puff of breath against her fast chilling fingertips. “Tease me not so,” she begged, her own mirth gone out in her eyes, her arch look turned to grief, “not when you are just returned from an errand all but ensuring such an end. It is too cruel, even of you. Handle me kindly, Percy, as you always have, in words this time, if not in embrace.”

He seemed to ponder this before raising that hand not occupied with his helm, clumsy and clad in gauntlet as it was, to her wrist, wrapping the chilled and layered steel round her pale flesh and gently tugging her hand from his lips, only so far as to press it to his cheek instead, their audience of men at arms unheeded. “I betook myself to London,” he enunciated, as if it were their first night all over again and his thick borderland drawl too strong for her courtly ears to decipher, “to remind a king of his debts.”

“And tell me!” she cried fiercely, a choked, barely quieted protest as her hands dug into the wet leather of his jerkin, wrist twisted from the steel grasp, “What errand is that but a fool’s? Have you no fear at all left in this bruised carcass? Do I patch up an animated corpse time and again from your wars only for it never to have soul and feeling and wisdom in it? Do I, Harry? Gone to remind a king? How do you dare such?”

“It is he who has dared too much!” he cried back, loudly where her’s had been choked, a ringing and rebauld defense, worthy of a man who would chastise his monarch in full view of council. “First his debts, and now my son’s land! We did not make children so as to watch like blithe cowards as their birthright is bequeathed out from under our feet -piecemeal!- to a courtly cunt whose only recommendation is his alacrity to pucker and bow.”

Kate glanced about her at the men making show of industry, piddling at harnesses and armaments, walking horses in circles. Her husband's words could be no worse than what he had said to the King’s own face, anyone without stomach to become a rebel would have stayed behind in the Capitol, sensing dissension brewing. Lady Percy could perceive none missing from his number. So, a war it was to be, then.

“So, a new generation of Percys is to play at kingmaking.” she summarized.

“We make no boast of it.” Harry protested in turn.

“No,” said she, “why would you with how poorly your last choice has served you?”

That caused a start from him, a step forward that was neither gallant nor eager but angry as man to man. Kate, still with hands fisted in the crooks of his armor, stepped with him, backwards to his hall. “It is your brother with the better claim.” he showed his plan at last, a slow and conniving admission, one not common for his brash ways and straightforward mind.

Kate gasped at the implication. “Edmund?”

“He was proper heir, all along.”

“Your father-“ she chose her wording carefully, “-did not agree.”

“My father’s preference is not law.”

“It is mistaken for such, often.” Kate smirked in reply. “And Edmund is not suited-“

“-Edmund is not the turd now stealing from his vassals!” her Harry rejoined, his helmet pressed to her chest, “Edmund will do.” he reiterated once more.

Kate stared at his temper, the signs of it in his flaring nose and his wild eyes, the cure was between her thighs but watching mist drops fall from unblinking lashes was sweet prelude indeed. “Edmund,” she replied quietly and in a manner to be heeded, “is not willing or suited, he prefers instead to listen to welsh bards and lay upon the lap of his savage wife.”

Her Harry rolled his eyes at her truth, an admission, or the closest to one, she would ever receive. As if battling some great inner turmoil she watched him purse his lips and heave out a sigh before in a sudden movement the helm was tossed to the ground -much to the scramble and reaction of a half a dozen squires who ran to pick it up from its puddle- and suddenly steel hands were upon her hips, tugging her near to him even as she shied away, her face turned in a pantomime of demureness. “Strange,” he said and his tone suggested he still pondered her report of her brother's amorous preoccupations, “-and her lap so less Devine than mine own wife’s.”

“Then why do you haste from it so often?” she whined, delivering a smack against his belted tabard, right where the lions paraded across his right breast.

“Only a man dying of thirst appreciates that water has a flavor.” he reasoned and Kate allowed the open mouthed kisses that crept down her neck, her face turned stubbornly still to the south wall. The blacksmith's roof will be in need of new thatching soon, before spring. Before war.

She feels stubble against her tender skin, bracketing those pretty lips she once derided him for. No warrior ought to have lips like that, it was not seemly, not when maidens were denied such richness, such fullness, such rosy hue. But there is roughness about his lips and on his jaw as it tucks into the juncture at her shoulder, that show of clavicle her dress allows drawing him in like a siren’s song. He must’ve rode hard the entire way, no inns or refreshment, no shaving or baths, straight to her as from a battlefield. The King’s city is just as loathsome as any field of carnage, but he went to free her brother, to get a ransom, to reclaim their stolen land, to remind a king.

He did it for her, and the babes she gave him.

Kate turns her face from the blacksmith's thatch and raises her hand to his face, tenderly stroking the three days' beard that's grown as he's been on the road, riding hard to get to her. They have backed nearly to the hall’s mouth, the drip of rain off the gutter patters behind her on the threshold, Kate knows he can smell supper and hear the clatter of their children racing to meet him on still chubby legs. How different is the love of home, man to woman, Harry would sooner fight for it and she would cower within. Her thumb swipes at the raindrops making farce of tears upon his cheek.

"Princess," he breathes against her palm as he crushes her into his chest, still half armored and agonized for it as he cannot feel her softness with the cuirass, the leather, the chainmail. There are curves and bosoms and soft flesh he knows too well just on the other side of this awful barrier.

Princess will be her title if his treason succeeds, if her brother wears that cursed crown. “Princess”. It sours her mouth, but it is kind of him to wish it for her.

"You will come back, Harry.” she commands of him, she declares the outcome of this brewing war, “Soaked in the blood of feckless scum, you will come back and put another babe in me. A little prince or princess," she hisses in his ear, and she can tell he freezes at that, her concession to his treason, still as stone in his metal casings.

His eyes are ever so blue as they search hers.

"So I forbid any recklessness, my Lord Husband. Because I want this - " and her hand slips beneath his jerkin and the hem of mail to squeeze his cockstand most assuredly, as assuredly as she was that he would be sporting one for her, gripping it as one might grasp a chalice of wine during a toast "- and the rest of you, in one piece." Harry slumps against her shoulder, panting into the chilled hair and too heavy for her little frame. "Or so help me God." she intones, sharper than any steel he wields. "Swear it, Harry." She gives him another punishing squeeze, and he groans, agonized, as his mouth meets with the softness of her bound bosom, his knees the hardness of the stone cobbles. If she hadn't promised a use for his cock, he'd think she was liable to geld him herself at his presumption to seat and unseat a king, but now that he is out of her grip, for a moment, and looks up at her with such longing he fears his soul has left his chest for hers.

"So help me God." he agrees, it is in providence’s hands, after all, and in Kate’s clasped one’s atop his head.

“Fool.” she says once more as she bends over him, gently pressing a hand to the back of his head, pressing his face to her belly and her chilled fingers to his sopping hair, “It is not my brother these men fight for, nor for me. Not when it is you that calls them to it.”

“For what then?” He mumbles into her womb, hands heavy on her hips, the courtyard’s occupants dispersed into the shadows of the eaves, but a couple dozen peering eyes twinkle towards them in the twilight’s gloom.

“How often have I heard it said here, in this very courtyard.” Kate scoffs, observing the strength knelt so adoringly before her, “Have I dreamed each cry of ‘no prince save he be a Percy?’ Ha, to think they fight for a Mortimer, indeed. Ha!”

Harry staggers to his feet at this poke, it is, as are so many of his Kate’s wounds, half torment, half praise. His blood pounds with the elixir of her acknowledgment of his capability. “It is well then, Kate Mortimer,” he recites, daring now to put his lips very near her own, to nuzzle his strong nose with her hawkish one, to tip a chin and bat an eyelash against her wet cheek, “it is well that you are Percy now yourself, through and through, wed-“ his lips meet hers in a brush she chases after, “-and bred.”

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

Hope all five of you who read that enjoyed it. 😆 I know it’s a fragment but as I’m nothing but hyper fixated when some interests resurrects in me, I’ll probably be back with more of them. Drop a note below if you’d like to be on a taglist for such developments.

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witchywomanrunningupthathill · 1 year

Text

Presume Not That I Am What I Once Was - The King (2019)

Pairing: Prince Hal/Henry V x female!reader

Description: You and Hal fall for each other as both of your realities come crashing down, all at once.

Word count: 801

Warnings: mentions of sex, female anatomy and allusion to pregnancy, supporting character death (?)

A/N: Hiii! Long author’s note warning. It’s been so long since I’ve posted on here. Of course the first fic I write on return is about the love of my life, Prince Hal. Now, for the record, I will always, ALWAYS see Tom Hiddleston as Hal. Full stop. #HollowCrownSuperiority. But yesterday, I was looking at scenes from The King (with which I take great issue, but we aren’t ready for that conversation) and the visuals (read: Timmy’s face) were giving way too much for me not to be inspired to write about such a complex, clever, and conflicted character. Soooooo here’s 800-ish words about our beloved prodigal son/wayward prince turned King of England. Oh, also, right below here is *probably* my favorite Shakespeare monologue. Very revealing (and confounding) of Hal, and what made me fall in love with this character. <3

Henry IV Act I, Scene ii

PRINCE

I know you all, and will awhile uphold The unyoked humor of your idleness. Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world, That, when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wondered at By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapors that did seem to strangle him. If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work, But when they seldom come, they wished-for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. So when this loose behavior I throw off And pay the debt I never promisèd, By how much better than my word I am, By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes; And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, My reformation, glitt’ring o’er my fault, Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes Than that which hath no foil to set it off.

You didn’t know it would be the last time. The last time you would hear the voice he never used around anyone else but you, tender, caring, adoring. The last time you would see him grin like he did when he was too far gone from drink, euphorically gleeful. The last time you would ever be able to touch him. Here, he wasn’t the Prince of Wales; he was Hal.

You weren’t expecting to feel the way you did about him. The way your heart beat faster each time he swaggered into the Boar’s Head Inn. The knot in the pit of your stomach when you’d come downstairs to find Sibyl perched on the prince’s lap with his hand ‘round her waist. You kept your eye trained on him every night, gambling and singing and fucking the night away.

At first, it was just like any other lay with the drunken, unkempt men that passed their time here. Just bodies moving together. Over time he visited Sibyl less and less, and wasted no time pulling you upstairs. He would stay the whole night and hold onto you in his sleep.

He wasn’t expecting to traipse around Eastcheap only for his mind to wander back to you. Back to the conversations you two shared in that Spartan single-room apartment after it was all over, the both of you laying entangled atop sweat-soaked sheets. He loved watching you gaze at him in the candlelight as he murmured tales of his antics with Falstaff and Poins, almost always punctuated with the faint grunts, cries, and rhythmic banging and rocking from all around, a prelude to another round of lovemaking.

It was the night after his father, Henry IV, had succumbed to the pox. Hal wasn’t gentle this time. He fucked hard, the rocking making you nauseous at one point, not that he would have noticed because he had kept his eyes closed the whole time. You wondered what was going on in his head. You wondered when you would summon the strength to tell him. Hal thrusted and thrusted, but it was all for naught. His moans turned to whimpers. He collapsed beside you; head buried in the crook of your neck as he broke into a sob.

“Hey, hey,” you said, turning to him and pulling him into you, your hand cradling the back of his head. His breath came out in warm huffs and tears seeped onto your breast.

“My father...” Hal mumbled. You pulled his face up to yours, thumbs wiping the tears from his bloodshot eyes. He looked tragically beautiful. While you cursed yourself for what was to come, Hal replayed his words to his father’s councilors. Know now that you will be watched over by an altogether different king. Hal assumed – no, he knew – his father saw him as nothing but a royal pain. His thoughts were interrupted by your quiet groan. You winced and looked down, hand to your lower stomach. Hal’s eyes followed. You hadn’t meant to let out a sound, jerking your hand back down to the bed. In fact, you had been good at hiding it. Or so you thought. Your eyes traveled slowly back up and you met your lover’s gaze. You’d never seen so many thoughts go on behind someone’s eyes, grief, trepidation, yearning, remorse… You held each other as hard as you had the very first time, a goodbye of sorts. But that was the thing about goodbyes, endings – no one ever shared them for the same reason.

Snow fell the day Hal became King Henry V of England. The Abbey bells rang out around London. Your hand slid to your belly instinctively and gazed at the city from your window, just barely making out the palace in the distance.

#the king 2019 #the king netflix #prince hal x reader #the king #henry v x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fic #henry v x oc #henry v x ofc #iz writes

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