#dark!charles brandon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dungeonpuppykai · 2 months

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Description: You were The Duke of Suffolk's exotic little gift for devising the perfect plan that had led to the successful colonization of your homeland.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Charles Brandon. This story contains dark and mature content so please browse at your own discretion. Minors do not interact. Please DO NOT REPOST my work in any way and DO NOT USE MY IDEAS WITHOUT PERMISSION, thank you.

Pairing: Dark!Charles Brandon | Brown!Reader.

Warning(s): Noncon/dubcon, colonization, racism, age gap (reader is in her early 20's, Charles is in his late 40's), coercion, dacryphilia, p-in-v, boob play, virginity loss, d/s dynamics, power imbalance, misogyny, naive!reader, corruption kink, fingering, humiliation, degradation.

Note: I have clearly taken creative liberties. My stories are generally inclusive for all ethnicities and body types but in order for the plot to make sense, the reader has to be brown and preferably South Asian. Though you can still imagine yourself in it all the same. Also, English is not my first language and I haven't really watched the show so I apologize beforehand for the lack of use of the appropriate language that this piece requires.

MASTERLIST

"I WILL NOT HAVE HIS BASTARD BLUE EYED GHOULS!"

One of her many shouts burst through the crevices of the chambers that she had been forced into by the frustrated servants who were just as upset as the maiden by her relentless protest and fight. Charles sighed to himself as he took a sip of his drink, numbly watching the fire and waiting for his unwed young bride to be prepared for him.

He was the only one who could actually understand her, as she solely spoke her native tongue that he had learnt to ensure the preparation of a fail-proof plan with flawless execution. Infiltrate and occupy. To everyone else in his Estate, she was a wild savage with no sense of civility. One that the Master had taken a fancy to during his business expeditions in her homeland.

When his wisdom and cunning had added yet another colony to Henry's growing kingdom, the King was obligated to give his best friend the object of his attention as a gift. Charles' eyes that would follow her every time she was around the marketplace, naively going about her day with no knowledge of the coral eyes that observed her every move from afar had not gone unnoticed by the King.

"I do apologize in advance, Master" the head maid bowed after approaching his seat. "The girl has been prepared and placed in your chambers but she is bestial and restive. I do not recom–"

"That will be all, Mrs. Chapman, goodnight" the lady was mildly taken aback as she had gotten used to being the second in command ever since the Master's family had passed away from a devastating plague sometime over a decade ago.

The silence of the Estate had been his companion during his idle hours for years before this night.

And now there was her…

Charles sighed to himself as he lifted his heavy body out of his seat after putting down the glass and made his way to his feral little present that awaited him in his chambers.

His form silently moved through the shadows of the dimly lit halls as the man neared the enclosure he was planning to remain in for weeks at the very least. Undeniable anticipation and excitement began to course through his veins that had not felt this warm for ages now the closer he got to the heavy double doors.

Charles paused for a second before he entered, tuning her shrieking out and taking a moment to both calm his nerves and settle his composure. He was getting too old to tolerate the wailings of a child for long, but he did not want to ruin this for himself.

When the man was sure a few moments after that he was ready, he raised his head and entered.

It had been too long.

Much to his surprise, the shouting ceased at once and was replaced by quiet sniffling upon his appearing. He had been told that the years had granted him an intimidating mien but it was only now that he believed it when the girl's ear numbing protests turned into mere whimpers at his showing up.

A frown made its way on Charles' face when he turned away from the door after ensuring the security of its latches to finally face the girl. Because though she looked stunning -and Heavens, the sight before him was truly breathtaking-, he found her delicate, dusk-hued hands bound to the headboard of the bed with cloth pieces that matched the shade of her attire.

And oh, her attire…

Tan fingers decorated with scarlet henna that was deep in shade, hands sparkling with the jewelry that had been draped over them and locked in place at her wrists from below and around the base of her digits from top. The velvety caramel of her arms adorning red and gold glass bangles that jingled every time she mumly struggled against her cruel restraints that cut at her obviously pampered skin whenever she moved. Her face was half-covered with a dark red drape into which sparkling beads had been sown in the shapes of flowers. Her binds that held her arms captive and away at her sides caused her heavy chest to push out against the deep neckline of her crimson blouse, the mud coloured swells feverishly trembling every time she grunted and give a pull to her bruising wrists. The long skirt she had been made to wear below matched the color of the rest of her clothing articles, her fight having raised it up her hazel shaded ankles around which glittery jewelry similar to the hand pieces she wore were wrapped. Her toes that curled every now and then had been coloured the same scarlet shade as her fingers and the sheets contrasted her body in the most stunning way.

The King had really outdone himself with Charles' reward this time around.

The curve of her body was perfect and different to everything the older man had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. A familiar but much forgotten warmth spread over his chest and traveled down to his nether regions as he neared the girl.

"D- Don't come any closer!" A scared little maiden from a foreign land speaking in an inferior tongue was not to tell him what to do in his own house. "T- This is utter blasphemy! A girl is to only present herself like this to her husband on the night of their wedding! This is vile and most sinister!"

Charles sighed to himself before taking a seat next to her. Then he raised the drape from over her face and rested it above her head, only to reveal the most uniquely beautiful face he had ever seen in any land, the dark and thick curls that framed her features accentuating her beauty even more. "Then I suppose it is a good thing that you are my bride, is it not?" She did look the part.

Her big, almond shaped brown eyes that had been lined with kohl widened when he responded in her tongue. "N- Never!" Y/n tried to move away, her heavy nose ring that was being held up by a thin, gold chain on one side of her face bouncing every time she spoke with nervous agitation. "I- I would never wed one that bears likeness to corpses!" Now this was amusing to Charles. The man could not help the small smile that spread over his lips. "B- Better to die than lay with a blue eyed ghoul!"

Heat spread across his spine at her naivete.

Then he softly snorted. "In that case I am most regretful to inform you that these decisions are for the men to make, little one" she flinched her face away with a gasp when he went to caress her cheek with the coarse back of his hand. "Young maidens like yourself are much too simple minded to know what is right for them."

"It definitely is not becoming the slave of an old devil!" One of Charles' eyebrows raised at that.

One with a mouth.

Taming her would surely be an experience.

"Now that would be real blasphemy, letting such exquisite beauty go to waste by sending it into slavery" the girl was puzzled for a moment as she blinked up at him in confusion, unable to decide whether it was a compliment or an insult to her prior words. Perhaps both. Definitely a trap. The Duke took this time to lean towards one of her binds and reached for it. "Do you promise to behave yourself if I rid you of these?" He had heard the servants' complaints of her biting and kicking them.

The girl was at a loss of words as she warily watched his face for a hint, clearly struggling to understand his intentions. Charles bit his lip to suppress his smirk. He was not aware that he still had the charm that had had a renown of its own during the days of his youth.

"Hm?" Y/n's eyes traveled from him to where his hand hovered above the bind. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and she sucked at it for a few moments before returning her gaze to his. The stubborn girl only nodded, not sparing him any more words than necessary, keeping a careful eye on his movements.

Not that there was much she could do against him.

Charles' fingers pulled the knot free and gathered her bruised wrist in them after it collapsed from its suspension. A gasp escaped the girl when he brought it to his lips and pressed a soft, ticklish kiss to the tender skin, lowering it only to reach for the other bind though caressing it with his thumb all the while.

A frown marred the girl's features as she rotated the wrists in their joints for relief, but only for a few moments. Before any words could be exchanged, her free hand that was not being pampered by the man's suspicious tenderness reached for one of the heavy pillows.

The Duke's jaw ticked as his eyes shut in forced composure, curls tossing astray when the pillow was hauled in his direction to serve as a device for escape. But alas. He was faster in judging and blocking the weapon with one firm hand.

Charles breathed through his nose to refrain from expressing his ire and bit back the surge of strength that tried to overpower him. The darkness grew within him as his realization of the sheer power he held in this moment coupled with her intoxicating scent drove him completely mad. A whine left the girl as she hissed, twisting her fragile wrist within his rough palm to try and break free from the bone crushing hold it had been held captive in during her attempt to flee.

"Now, where do we think we are going?" While it took Y/n all of her strength to try and push his arm away, the man easily hauled her body back in its previous spot before addressing her with a much unimpressed look.

"Home! I want to go home!" Tears glistened in her deep brown eyes as her chin wobbled, but she refused to give up her struggle. "You cannot keep me here, old devil! I shall protect my honor at all costs and I shall run away!"

The Duke could not help but let out a cold chuckle at that, keeping his firm hold on her all the same. "You are here on the King's orders, little one. Even if you manage -which you will not, let me assure you-, they will just bring you back here to me."

"Then I implore you let me go!" She was very obviously desperate. And he could feel his sick excitement increase. "Please, I do not wish to be here! I refuse to be desecrated at the hands of your likeness!" Charles had never been one to coerce or force; courtesy of his global popularity, but all this fight and pleading kept adding to the fire that was spreading within him.

It was then when he had to physically refrain himself from pouncing at her right then and there to strip her of all dignity and innocence, he realized that he wanted– nay, needed this girl under him at all costs.

And fast.

There was not a doubt that he wanted to break her. But the enjoyment he wished to take from it was not an instant one that would soon become tiring.

Rather, one which would only get better and more interesting by the day.

Seeping under her beautiful skin like a poison that scorches but is eternally inadequate to fully kill.

"No can do, you have been given to me by the King himself to keep and guard as I see fit" he couldn't resist the urge to caress the top of her hand with his thumb and gave in. "You are safe within the premises of the Estate and under my name. Though if you breach it…" Her throat gulped down a nervous bile as her cheeks elongated in horror and big eyes widened even more.

Good.

"I- If I breach it…?" Y/n couldn't help but edge on when a few moments passed in silence and the Duke refused to share more information.

Charles' shaky inhale was nerve-wracking as he willed a troubled expression onto his dark eyes. "You will surely be torn apart into hundreds of pieces before any measure of aid can even be attempted…" Her mouth fell open in shock at the revelation. "Word around here spreads fast, I hear…" He pretended to hesitate. "Everyone is curious whether it feels better or worse between the legs of an eastern woman…" She stopped her struggle, the jingle of her glass bangles dying down. "And if they also bleed red…" She suddenly shuffled closer, sniffling and nearly cowering into him.

There, there.

"M- My honor…!" Was all she could whimper after a few beats of haunting silence.

Charles sighed in a deliberately long breath, feigning sympathy as though he was not the sole reason of her being in her present circumstance. "Let me have it, and I shall protect it with my life" dipping his head forward, the Duke leaned in, the movement forcing a shaky gasp out of the girl. "I am afraid your only choices are that or who knows what at the hands of my landsmen–"

"I beseech you speak no more!" Shaky hands flew to cover her ears as she sobbed out loud at last, the movement causing the drape to move and reveal the heavy looking pendents that hung from her ears. Charles wondered if they would make the same sound as her bangles and anklets if he were to take her while she wore them.

The Duke bit his lip as he felt blood rush to his nether regions.

Oh, it truly had been a long time.

The feeling was nearly foreign.

Yet painfully inviting; welcoming.

"We are each our own devil, little one." He let go of her wrist, lowering his head as he went to move away. "I can see that you rather leave here, so I will–"

"N- No…" The girl slowly shook head at first and then resorted to vehemently doing it when he continued to turn away, stopping him by clinging to one of his arms before pulling his half risen body back down next to her. "Must not bring disgrace to grandfather's turban!" As they were a symbol of pride and honor in her culture.

Charles sighed in a commiserative manner. "I most sincerely wish there was a way I could help you" he could almost visualize her thought process as her furrowed eyebrows raised from their prior position.

"B- But you just said there was!" Now it was his turn to bring his eyebrows together although in faux confusion, unbeknownst to the girl.

"Did I?" When she desperately nodded with a spine-chilling eagerness that contrasted her prior abhorrence to his existence, Charles couldn't help but shift a little to try and relieve the growing ache between his legs.

"Y- Yes…" The Duke just had to crawl between her legs now.

"I am afraid I do not recall, sweet one" her tears only made the pressure that was ever-building worse.

"A- About… That… Just now…!" When Charles tilted his to the side in pretend puzzlement, she couldn't help but cry out in frustration. "A- About surrendering my honor to you to keep and protect!" His heart jumped at the way she said it, the thumping of the organ now matching that of his nether regions.

"But you did not seem to like the proposition t–"

"I like it! Please, I do!" She desperately squeezed his hand that she held in both of hers. "I agree! To all of it!" The girl had moved onto her knees. "Please, please guard me! I beg to be taken under your wing, Master, please!" Her heavy breasts jiggled against her blouse as she leaned towards him and pistoned her body up and down on her heels in a pleading manner. His eyes couldn't help but travel down to the inviting sight.

Heavens.

And to think that she was not even aware of just what she was doing.

Charles could not help but imagine her bouncing on something else entirely.

"Are you sure, little one?" The girl's nods were so eager she seemed more and more like just another bride by the passing second. "I do not–" mortified for her endangered honor, she bolted forward and pressed her lips to his, though for a while too brief for The Duke's liking.

In the blink of an eye, she was back in her spot on her knees, leaning back against the heels of her feet and looking down at her hands that still held his. "I- I am sure, M- Master…" A shaky breath escaped him at the way the word rolled off her tongue. "W- Want to be guarded and…" Her tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip while she mustered the strength required to utter the next words. "K-" she hesitated for a second now that she had somewhat calmed down. "Kept by you."

Charles could not help the triumphant smirk that spread across his still much handsome features. "If that truly is the case, then…" His free hand reached for her tear stained face as his index finger hooked under her chin to prop it up and closer to him. "Come here."

The girl's breaths were heavy as her palms grew a nervous cold against his, dampening the top of his hand with the clamminess that produced between them. Her shy eyelids fluttered along with her thick, curly lashes as she tried to look at him with their lowered position, the rise and fall of her chest increasing when Charles moved in until there was no proximity left between them.

The mass of hair lined along the edge of her eyes trembled when Charles' soft lips pressed against hers and his rather coarse mustache tickled the skin under her nose, causing her to squeeze his hand reactively and send another icy shiver down his spine. The Duke sighed against the warmth of her tender mouth, sensing that she was not really responding both due to the circumstance and lack of experience but the feeling was too thrilling for him to let go just yet.

Y/n whimpered when the man softly moaned into her mouth and tilted his head to further deepen the kiss, now moving the hand he had on her chin sideways along her jaw until he was cupping it to hold her face in place. The room filled with loud sounds of skin sucking against skin for short intervals and the girl soon found herself gasping for air.

"Down on your back, now" Charles growled and barely managed to hold back when she finally broke the kiss by softly biting down on his bottom lip to be allowed to breathe, the action only adding to his need in turn.

In a matter of a few moments, the unwilling girl was lying in The Duke's bed compliantly, cheeks flushed and eyes teary in contempt, yet legs parted in a welcoming manner as he pulled at the harnesses of his clothes while trying to triumph over his frantic breathing.

But there was only so much he could keep under control.

He could not recall the last time a pretty little thing had been presented for him like this, if ever.

And she looked so innocent, so sweet, so supple, submissive and small with her big, glassy kohl lined eyes full of fear.

The sound of the last of his garments hitting the ground was a loud thump in the deadly silent room as he silently marveled at just how vulnerable she really was.

Solely at this mercy.

The girl's jewelry jingled softly as she gasped under her breath and whipped her head in the other direction at the sight of the man; practically a stranger, yet devastatingly now the owner of her new life standing nude before her in all his glory.

Charles could not help the sick smirk that made its way on his face at the sight before he slowly mounted the bed like a serpent slithering towards its prey, movements silent and intentions vile. Y/n was forced whimper out a shaky breath when Charles crawled over her as she felt his very exposed body graze against her clothed one.

"Here, now." He placed one hand beside her head and used the other one to recenter her face to look up at him, palm unintentionally cupping her jaw as his thumb caressed the soft skin of her cheekbones. "Keep those pretty eyes on me, little one" her full chest touched against his each time she took another one of her exaggerated breaths, frozen in place as she looked up at him in horrified confusion.

Her deep brown eyes only widened more at what he did next when his hand left the side of her face to meet one of hers that lay limp at her sides. "Do you feel that, sweet girl?" Y/n's mouth fell open when Charles guided her trembling hand to his painfully hard sex organ and prompted her to touch it. "This is what you do to me…" His eyes traveled down her face and onto her much inviting spotless neck, descending down to the perfect curve of her swells that smoothed into a bump before coming back up to look into hers, "everytime, while fully clothed. I dare not imagine what I'd do if you were even half indecently clad" her face was hot with a deep blush.

Embarrassment, humiliation, shyness.

Charles moaned when she started moving her hand along his length, a petrified expression on her face as she grunted a little with having to reach so far down, though not daring to complain. "Good, good." He had had enough of the slow strokes, The Duke wanted something more fulfilling, faster, tighter, warmer if he did not want to end up bruised down there by the night's end. "Very good" his thick curls fell over his face when he dipped his head down to kiss her, a few strands of silver glinting in the dim light of his chambers as he pushed Y/n's arms above her head, the placing causing her swells to nearly fall out of her deep blouse.

When Charles pulled back to breathe, he cursed as he grinded against her before kissing her once more and then trailing his lips along her jawline, pecking every patch he touched. "Hmmm, keep them there" he referred to her arms, leaving them above her head and slowly bringing his own down by tracing the outlines of her body with them. "Tell me you'll keep your arms above your head for me because you're my good girl" his hands greedily groped her heavy chest, causing the girl to wince as her back arched in response to the foreign treatment, her neck craning to one side as Charles sucked and lapped at the tender skin his mouth was latched onto.

"I- I… ah!" Her eyes fluttered close and clenched when he suddenly bit down on the junction between her shoulder and neck before tracing his tongue over the sore area to cool the pang, hands squeezing her soft hips at the same time. "I w- will keep my arms a- above my head for you because I am your g- good girl… M- Master" fuck.

There was a bewitching way about the way that name rolled off her tongue.

Charles could swear stars appeared in his vision as the pressure between his legs increased.

"Heavens, little one!" The Duke grunted as he snatched the fabric of her skirt upwards and away from her priorly covered legs, the overwhelmed man unable to hold back anymore as he moved to her swells now that he had left some satisfying marks of his passion along the width of her neck. "Where have you been all this time?"

Happy and safe at home with my family. A tear trickled down the side of Y/n's face as she shivered when his nude leg brushed against hers that was just as exposed as his now, the contact evoking a strange feeling within her. Goosebumps appeared on her skin and the hair on the back of her neck rose as Charles' lips hovered above the pulpy skin, the golden brown bristles of his beard scraping against its feathery softness.

"Hm?" Charles growled when she gave no response but then chuckled as he ran his tongue along the narrow valley of the cushions on her chest. "Silly little thing doesn't know what to say now, does she?" A shaky breath escaped him as the coarse back of his hand rubbed against her tender thighs that he had finally managed to expose by pushing the skirt all the way up to her waist. Y/n's eyes widened and she jumped up against his face with a start when his impatient hand snatched at the neckline of her blouse and pulled at the fabric until it separated from the rest of the cloth and tore off in a big piece. But before the girl could voice her shock, Charles beat her to it. "Tell me you've been obediently waiting on your Master, me, all this time" his demand was husky and harsh against her breasts that he was taking his time tasting and biting, the softness making him moan.

The girl gulped as she blinked through her teary vision, biting her lip in concentration and snaking her fingers around the bars of the headboard to keep them there like she had been ordered to. The last thing she could afford right now was to anger The Duke who was becoming less and less of a man by the passing second, every single little thing about him turning primal and beastly.

"I- I have been obediently–" the sickening words burnt on her tongue for she must have been a cradled babe when the man on top of her was in the prime of his youth. "Been… B–" her throat was parched as her tongue ran over her dry lips every now and then to create a semblance of hydration.

"Go ahead, sweet girl" Charles had begun rocking against her already, rubbing his curled length between his stomach and the top of her caramel thigh, the contrasts of their skins only adding to his pleasure. "You're doing so well for me" the slurp of his mouth against one of her hardened nipples overshadowed the sound of him ripping her underclothes away.

Y/n tried to close her legs, utterly uncomfortable and much too exposed as she felt herself getting thirstier than before, the strange surge of waves that his indecent touches and lewd words were causing in the base of her stomach tightening into a ball each time he squeezed her somewhere or dug his teeth into the soft cushions of her breasts, razorlike canines stinging against her plush swells.

"I- I have been obediently w- waiting on m- my Master, you, all this time..." Her back arched with another start when Charles' fingers dipped between her nude legs and touched the most private part on her body, the feeling of the soft, warm and moist bumpy flesh causing him to moan so loud against the breast that he was sucking at now after having marked its companion to his liking.

"Heavens…!" Was all the older man could gasp out as he let his fingers glide free over her folds and squishy petals to both get a feel of them and memorize every little detail possible. "You're wet, God–" his smug smile was so deep that his dimples appeared and he had to peek between his curls that fell over his eyes when he looked up at her. "You are not even aware of it, are you?" The girl had no idea what he meant indeed. "Oh, you sweet little dirty girl" as he attacked her lips with his desperate mouth, his free hand flew to restrain both of hers back above her head when the tip of his finger prodded at her tiny slit and the girl gasped, unaware of its existence altogether.

"Nuh, uh, little girl" Charles tutted between hot, breathy, wet and sloppy kisses, the red color that had been painted on the girl's lips now an increasing mess around both their mouths. "Good girls keep their arms up and eyes down under their Masters" he let go only to reach for one of her ear pendents and hurriedly felt it with his thumb before ducking down to push his tongue in her mouth to explore the tight enclosure, stifling the gasp she let out when he finally sheathed the finger he had been stroking her with inside her hot cavern. "Do you understand?" He was breathless when he pulled back momentarily to moan at the feeling of her stiff opening clenching around his digit. "Tell me you understand."

The girl struggled to breathe under his beast-like countenance, accidentally biting down on his lip albeit only to make him moan harder when he started to move his finger in the vertical fashion it was meant to be stimulated in. "I- I…" The pain, the buzzing excitement increasing in the pit of her stomach, the strange feeling which was starting to overpower the initial ache of the intimate intrusion as well as the way Charles was basically chewing away everywhere he could reach her with his mouth with such urgency that it seemed as though she was on the verge of disappearing and would do so any second.

"Please, go ahead" the tenderness in his desperate plea surprised both of them as Charles worked her open for his leaking cock that held a renown for splitting open tight little cunts. "You sound so sweet when you do" his free hand now explored her ear by grazing the fingertips along the crevices of the helix and cartilage, some places pierced with small and shiny studs with expensive stones in them, other spots having gold earrings hanging from them.

The Duke decided she was more extraordinary than everything he had ever seen in terms of beauty.

Perhaps to a point where it shifted to the realm of the sublime.

Immeasurably superior.

Feeling the buzz in her cunt get stronger when he added another finger to her warm enclosure of soaking flesh, the girl threw her head back and whined when Charles enveloped one of her sore nipples between his lips again. "I- I understand, Master." And that was it.

It had to be now.

The man tore himself away from her by sheer willpower for his chest wished not to be parted with hers much softer and inviting one, hard arms snaking under and around her back to reunite their contrasting skins as Charles' cock slipped into place against her opening as though it had been made only to do that.

"It will hurt a little," lifting her off the bed, he moved onto his knees to move better as he readied himself to sink his cock deep within her. "But then it will feel so good you will beg me to keep you in this bed for days on end" the confused girl did not want to agree but her stimulated body was betraying her in ways more than one. "Just trust me…" His features twitched when he finally lowered his hips and her somewhat prepared entrance allowed the tip to violate the hot cavern, the feeling overwhelming him into groaning aloud and for the girl to reach for his broad shoulders to sink her nails in, eyes and mouth widening alike.

Was it even supposed to be put in there?

She knew something happened behind the closed doors of a married pair for the fulfillment of marital duties and to create children but… this?

Y/n did not know so she was not sure but as Charles started to move his hips, guiding her body with the arms he had around it to accommodate his soft thrusts, she wondered why the queer heart-upsetting feeling that made her somewhat nauseous felt a very unusual kind of… good at the same time amidst of everything.

The girl could not recognize the feeling as pleasure just yet for she was yet to experience the end and get addicted to it like all did, but sweat broke out on her temples when she realized that she wanted him to go on, move faster, make the pain disappear and rub her in that way again to unravel the mysteries of this mysterious ball that was growing tighter and more suffocating by the passing second.

"I am the biggest cock you've ever had, huh little one?" Her cheeks were flushed as she frowned in pain, mouth agape. "Say it" his demands were primal growls as he felt himself twitch inside her, one hand coming to pat her cheek condescendingly to get her to listen better. "Tell me I am the biggest cock you've ever had" the burn of her nails was too good against his hard shoulders.

"Y- You are the biggest cock I h- have ever had, Master" Y/n's voice broke as she blinked away tears and stars, unaware of the meaning of her own words.

"That is correct" he groaned as though in pain, tugging his cock out of her before pushing it back in again. "I am the biggest cock you have ever had. The only cock you had ever had" the man was breathless against her. "The only one you will ever have. You're all mine" the promise was sealed with a furious kiss.

"P- Please…" For what, she knew not. But her head craned back as she jutted her chest out towards him to treat again the way he had been doing for the past few minutes, the marks that he had left on her skin hot and territorial.

"What is it, sweet girl?" Charles husked as one of Y/n's hands moved to brush the mop of his curls away to get a better look at his blue eyes. So remarkably handsome. Her eyebrows furrowed as the sheer manliness of his aged face brought an indescribable shiver down her spine and made her clench around him, causing the man to grunt in pleasure as his hips started to speed up.

"H- Hurts but feels so… so…" Charles smirked as he panted, struggling to move within her narrow passage of flesh. "D- Don't know but– oh," one of his hands dipped between her legs and the result was the most obscene sound she had ever made and he had ever heard. The genuineness of pure surprise and pleasure made The Duke's head spin. "Master!"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, my sweet" Charles spoke through a mouthful of one of her dark brown nipples, slurping at it and his own spit as he went. "Just trust Master and lay back, he will take care of you" her toes curled as she let out the same sensual sound again, arching her back and going limp momentarily due to the shock of whatever her body was suddenly subjected to.

"I was made to protect you, only in death will I be kept from this oath" Charles whispered in her ear after moving to it, pressing kisses to it as well as her cheek to fuck out her orgasm to the best of his ability. It had been a while but that did not mean he had forgotten any of his infamous tricks. Y/n could only blink away the stars that appeared in her darkened vision as she barely made out his promise over the ringing of her ears coupled with the thumping of her heart.

Was it a good thing?

What could be done if it was not?

Though as Charles grunted before she felt something warm and wet fill her cavern, the man reuniting his arms around her waist to piston into her harder and deeper than he had done in the past few minutes, she felt a sense of permanency wash over her.

Something broken forever.

An angel completely tainted.

A cage eternally chained.

The rosy pink mix of dissolved purity and unholy discharge below their conjoined bodies was a testament to the fact.

Tagging 🩷: @warriormirkwood @secretdream2 @hangmanscoming

#charles brandon x reader #charles brandon smut #charles brandon #charles brandon fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill superman #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x female reader

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crowclubkaz · 12 hours

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😈📚 characters from hazbin hotel as books 📚😈

i finally got around to posting all of these on my bookstagram, and i figured i'd post them here too! putting this together was so much fun that i just had to share. full book list below the cut!

👑 Charlie: - Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson - One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston

✖️ Vaggie: - The Bandit Queens by Parini Shroff - Hopepunk by Preston Norton

🎥 Angel Dust: - Rented Heart by Garrett Leigh - Gay Bar: Why We Went Out by Jeremy Atherton Lin ♣️ Husk: - The Lost Weekend by Charles Jackson - The Gambler by Fyodor Dostoevsky

📻 Alastor: - A Certain Hunger by Chelsea G. Summers - Lost Signals by Max Booth III

🧹 Niffty: - Maid by Stephanie Land - The Dead Janitor's Club by Jeff Klima

🍎 Lucifer: - Angels Before Man by rafael nicolás - Dayspring by Anthony Oliveria

🐍 Sir Pentious: - Soulless by Gail Carriger - Boneshaker by Cherie Priest

💣 Cherri Bomb: - Girls to the Front by Sara Marcus - We Sold Our Souls by Grady Hendrix

🚬 Valentino: - Snuff by Chuck Palahniuk - Getting Off: Pornography and the End of Masculinity by Robert Jensen

📺 Vox: - Universal Harvester by John Darnielle - White Noise by Don DeLillo

📱 Velvette: - The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger - Followers by Megan Angelo

🎸 Adam: - Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James - Why Men Love Bitches by Sherry Argov

🗡️ Lute: - Joan by Katherine J. Chen - The Valkyrie by Kate Heartfield

😇 Sera: - The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom - Dark Rise by C.S. Pacat

👼 Emily: - Halo by Alexandra Adornetto - Blue Skies by T.L. Martin

🥀 Rosie: - In the Garden of Spite by Camilla Bruce - Woman Eating by Claire Kohda

👸 Lilith: - Lilith by Eve Marmery - Jezebel by Megan Barnard

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bethanydelleman · 8 months

Note

Stupidest each JA hero has done?

I also put these in order of stupidity, from greatest to least:

Edward Ferrars: Getting engaged to Lucy

Edmund Bertram: Dismissing Fanny's concerns about Henry Crawford... and his whole relationship with Mary Crawford

Fitzwilliam Darcy: keeping Meryton in the dark about Wickham's character

George Knightley: thinking he can fix a matchmaking scheme with more matchmaking schemes

Captain Frederick Wentworth: not writing to Anne in year 8, when he had the post on Laconia and a few thousand pounds

Charles Bingley: trusting Darcy's judgement about Jane above his own feelings

Colonel Brandon: not planning the whole elopement better with Eliza

Henry Tilney: honestly I can't think of anything... Henry Tilney can do no wrong in my eyes.

#question response #jane austen heroes #edward ferrars #edmund bertram #colonel brandon #henry tilney #captain wentworth #mr. knightley #mr. darcy #charles bingley

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witchersmistress · 12 days

Text

Rescuing Ann

Hello my beautiful darlings! I've been slacking and letting Ann and August fight amongst themselves. But I got them to work together. I'm not 100% certain how I feel about this so don't be surprised if I

Trigger Warnings: blood, violence, assault, smart ass remarks, chasing, fighting, stolen movie quotes clearly labeled

Word count: 2K

August”s POV

The broken glass crunched under my feet as I walked back into the building. My phone started to vibrate, pulling it out of my pocket and I answered it quickly “ Yes?” “ Sir, we have confirmation that Julian is going to be attacked today, by a group of men called the De Santis brothers. My blood ran cold. Charles, Brandon and Levi. They were absolutely ruthless men, who played twisted games in order to compete with their father.

“Sir, are you still there?” my second in command, Jace asked me. Releasing the breath I was holding “ Yes I'm still here, get a team ready, I'm going after her.” disconnecting from the call, I left the party and climbed into the black sedan that was waiting for me. Shooting a text off to an old number that I prayed was still active, hoping I wasn't too late to save her.

Ann’s pov

His chilling threat still clung to my skin, “You will pay for making me look stupid” he was on his third glass of whiskey as the driver pulled into a long driveway. Taking in a deep breath as i observed the house, it looked warm and inviting but the man who lived here was anything but, i know i was expected to go home with him but i’ll be damned if that fool thinks that he will be able to touch me, i’ll die before i let that happen. Stepping out the car I followed Julian inside, the front door locking behind me and trapping me inside. “Second bedroom on the right, go upstairs now” he spat at me as he made his way towards his liquor cabinet. Taking off my heels I jogged up the stairs and into that bedroom shutting behind me. Leaning my head back I took in a few deep breaths before peeling myself off the door and out of this damn dress. Sliding my arms out of the straps, I began to tug the dress over my head. I'll be damned if I ask Julian to help me. Tossing the dress to the floor in a mess of cabernet tulle, I moved over to the full length mirror and stared at my reflection. My strappy lingerie clung to my curves, dark hair falling down my back, I looked and felt like a Goddess and the only man that I wanted worshiping at my altar was August. I wonder if I hold as much power over him as he does me. I let my glance linger for a few moments longer, before stripping out of those and climbing into a hot shower.

In comfy black pjs I was about to settle into bed for the evening when the door flung open to reveal Julian, standing my ground I waited for him to say something. “ You embarrassed me tonight, you know that, by letting the Walker hold on to you like a little lost puppy. It's pathetic really, but do you know how that made me look, that my wife-to-be is a wanton whore for an American CIA agent?!?!” he is practically foaming at the mouth. “I’d rather be his whore than your wife” Did i just quote the Titanic at him yes i did. I turned around to walk away from him, but he reached out and grabbed my still damp hair and pulled me back to him. Scream and clawing at the hand that held my hair, he spoke is a dark tone “ If you want to act like a whore that is how i am going to treat you do you understand me” the hand that was holding my hair lowered, i turned my head and bit him like a rabid dog “ You fucking bitch” he snarled as punched me in the gut and i stumbled back into the frame of the canopy bed, landing against it with a heavy and my head with a sickening crack. My vision was fuzzy for a few moments but I got my bearings and stood on shaky legs, ready to face him.

“ I could do this all day” I taunted him, yes I quoted Captain America, leave me alone. Wrapping a hand towel around the bite on his hand, he just smirked. “ You think you're funny?” I cocked my head “ I think I’m adorable” he sneered and lunged at me, skirting around him so he crashed into the bed, I tripped and landed on my ass, such a clumsy thing. This felt like a sick and twisted game of cat and mouse, but I'd be dead if this kitty cat caught me. Staggering into the hallway, I braced myself as Julian came charging out, and grabbed my waist. I whipped my head back crashing straight into his nose with a satisfying crunch and it began to gush like a fountain. With a sharp jab to his gut he stumbled back and towards the stairs, he grabbed my shirt and pulled me with him as we went down the stairs. Breathing hurt, moving hurt, everything fucking hurts. Shoving Julian off me, I struggled to my feet. When the patio doors burst open and three men dressed in black and came charging in with guns pointed. Julian sprung up from the floor and wrapped an arm around my throat “ Who the fuck are you?” he hissed at the men.

One of them laughed like an absolute lunatic. “ Wow I knew you were dumb but I didn't expect you to be that stupid. We are here for you dumbass” one of the other goonies moved at the speed of lightning and rushed at him. He threw me to the side to protect himself, stumbling on my feet. I bolted for the patio door when I was snatched by the third goon. “Easy poppet, we wouldn't want to hurt you know would we?” he sneered, his breath reeking of whiskey and cigarettes. I audibly gag as he continues to breathe on me as he secured my hands behind my back with zip ties.i could feel them biting into my skin, the big goon laughed as i attempted to rub my wrist together to relieve the pain “ What's wrong? Cant handle a little bondage?” he wiggled his eyebrows at me, disgusting pig. I spit in his face and he was pissed, he punched me in the stomach with full force, doubling over in pain he grabbed my head and slammed it off the counter. Fuck now i really was seeing stars, i could feel warm liquid pouring down my face “ Charles” one of the shadows snapped “ Leave her be, she has no part of this” i laughed out loud, i clearly was losing my mind as Charles pushed me into a chair “ Charles, you fucking name is Charles? Jesus, you must have been such a mama’s boy eh Charlie boy” i cackled and threw my head back with laughter. If I was going to die tonight might as well have the last laugh. Charles was seething “ You better watch your fucking mouth or i’ll make you sorry you ever opened it” he walked towards, his keeper and Julian. One day I am going to learn to shut my goddamn mouth but today is not the day.

Snorting loudly as my vision became blurry and my head began to spin. “ With an attitude like that, you must have to tie up all your girls to get attention. Even then you probably have a hard time satisfying them with that tic tac in your pants you call a penis. Oh sweet baby jesus, i did it, his control snapped “ Charles no” julians goon screamed as he spun around and came right for me, tackling me to the ground, my head met the ground with a snap and the chair broke under our combined weight as he reared back and clocked me in the face, spitting the blood at him, i smiled as my eyes crossed. Well I clearly was on death’s door as I heard more voices and I vaguely saw the blue eyes of my savior, August. He grabbed my face and talked to me. “Ann dont you dare, keep your eyes open. Look at me” he growled, I forced my eyes open for the last time. I smiled at him as blood dripped from my mouth “ Déjame ir” Let me go. Uttering my last goodbye as he drifted further and further away from my vision, his voice blending in with the white noise in my head, I closed my eyes for the last time.

Unknown POV

He called me and made me promise that she wouldn't get hurt. I was a fool to make a promise. I thought I could keep her safe. I raced back into the formal dining room but I was too late. Charles had her laid out flat on the floor and he was beating her. I whistled at my other guy who dropped Julian’s unconscious ass like a sack of potatoes and raced over to help me pull Charles off of her. “ Charles no, we need her alive” he was foaming at the mouth and he was struggling to get out of our hold. He was so desperate to get to her, to finish what we started as she was on her side choking on blood. Charles grunted and went limp in our arms, I looked over my shoulder and saw him. The person who begged me to protect her, someone I was equal parts terrified and proud to call my brother, August Walker. He ran to her and tried to get her to stay awake, but as she slipped away into the night, he looked back at me, his eyes full of murder. I may have been his brother but I was most certain that I wasn't going to survive the night.

August’s pov

pushing passed Levi and Brandon, knowing I'd deal with them later, I scooped you into my arms and took off.

*a few hours later*

Pretty sure I've worn a groove into the floor waiting to hear from the surgeon. They rushed you into immediate surgery upon our arrival and that was several hours ago. Sitting down, I hung my head. Already tormenting myself if you didn't make it. “Hey” a voice started me, looking up to see Levi holding out a cup of coffee to me. I smiled softly and took it from him. He sat besides, bouncing his leg impatiently. “August,” he began but I cut him off. “Don't,” I said, “ I will deal with him accordingly.” He nodded as he looked down at his cup of coffee.

“Mr. Walker?” A petite nurse called. Standing up I walked over to her. “ They just finished up the surgery, if you would follow me” I glanced back at Levi and he nodded as I walked with the nurse. She pointed to your room, and I thanked her. I expected to walk in and see you awake and talking but you weren't. You were still hooked up to machines. A tube was breathing for you. I wanted to scream, I wanted to rage. The surgeon rambled on about what they did and your prospective recovery. Walking over and grabbing your hand. Your hand was warm in mine, I squeezed it but there was no response. “ How long until she wakes up?” I asked him as I watched that machine breathe for you.

Clearing his throat “ I’m sorry Mr. Walker” he started i stared daggers at him waiting for him to continue “ She went through a long surgery and we almost lost her. Her brain has severely swollen so we placed her in a medically induced coma to help heal her brain '' I don't know if there was a disconnect in my brain but I wasn't clearly understanding. Levi stood in the doorway with a heavy sigh he just looked at you “ In plain terms Doc” he muttered and the dr turned towards him and nodded “ Mr. Walker, i'm not sure if she will ever wake up” my knees buckled from the weight, she may never wake up..

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill characters #august walker #august walker imagines #august walker fanfic

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kaismasterlist · 2 months

Text

Shackles Of Love (Dark!Pete Brenner | You) ❤️🖤

Magnum Opus (Dark!Pete Brenner | Naive!Reader) ❤️🖤

Party Girl (Daddy/Cg!Ari Levinson | Little!You) ❤️

Exotic (Dark!Charles Brandon | Brown!Reader) 🖤

Magic (Dark!Rafe Cameron | Naive!Reader) 🖤

Liability (Mob Boss!August Walker | Hench(wo)man!You ❤️

#kais non-marvel oneshots masterlist page ii #kais masterlist #pete brenner #pete brenner smut #ari levinson #ari levinson smut #charles brandon #charles brandon smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe concepts

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toofasttoocool · 2 months

Note

Shuichi (not the harem king version, not interested into that, just good ol cutie mega femboy booty shuichi) made one grave mistake, his booty pants broke again so he went in is usual hyper sized clothes retailer... and stumbled right into kaede akamatsu, the school's queen bee is here and shes dressed even lewder as usual somehow! and according to that grinn of hers, the emo slutboy is in for tease HELL~ <3

Heh,he is so cute…I have been waiting for that big fat femboy cock since… well, since long!Hehehe…Hehehe…you are not escaping big mean Kaede! "What's up nerd? Do you really think you could escape your favorite Gyaru?Or maybe you want to jerk off to me once again?Like you did in philo class?Lame! Despite his massive fat cock, Lamichi can only go jerky jerky!You were the one who fav all my Instagram pictures? Did you masturbate to those too!Mega Lameeeee!" Just how much can he cum with that?Geez even the quarterback I dated didn't cum that much in a week and look at him,I bet he just…cum like a fountain at the slightest touch!…I could…slide my nail on it and it would stand erect! You know that even the biggest slut of all this place wouldn't touch you with a stick glue to another stick, right?Hehehe… You aren't focusing at all, aren't you?You just look at this cow bikini that perfectly fits those massive milkers,and this perfectly healthy dark skin? Compare to your pale geek one!I bet you would die to pop get those big lips around your massive cock, don't you?For me to go glup glupyou could jerk off right now right?Huh?That's what you want? Hehe,he is blushing,I know those nerds love this kind of outfits,he will be begging to ravage me before the day is over,come on emo boy,get those working balls of yours working. I have an idea!Why don't you just jerk off right now?Yes right now, you can look all you want, but no touchy come on, you can coom for your queen !it's way better than any picture, don't you think? You are a nerd!You should think real fast!Come on cum!Cum!Cum! O!M!G look at him go I was sure he would do it and with two hands!I going to have so much funnnnnnnn!he is way better at it than brandon,kevin,charle,mike…well watnever!Look at my chocolate tits more!Cum!Cum! LOL!Lamichi is a quick shot!He already cum,ewww,it's on my new heels!Or maybe you wanted to cum on them,kyaaaaaa,Lamichi and his super cock are perverts!Twitchy Twitchy!Lamichi can finally cum for his idol and he burst way too soon!LOLOLOLO!But that's okay Queen Kaede is kind! You can cum all you want before class!Yep that's it!You can cum on all of my clothes and make sure that it's extra stinky!I love when the smell stays on my clothes, so everyone will think I got a rough fucking before class! Hehehe,look at this monkey in heat. He is completely ignoring the pain and keeping on jerking off,it's so cuteeee! And his cum so thicc too. Geez, I wish I could just shove that entire thing in my mouth; it looks so tasty!

Hehehe, you are looking at my lips so much!Are you one of those pop big lips fans?Or maybe you heard about my nickname?"The back-class vacuum"?I can do one of those faces you can only see in porn when I suck!Hehehe,you cannot contain yourself lamichi? Maybe my insults make you even harder?Lamichi is a masochist too!Lamichi only likes girls who tower over and trample him!Lamichi is a looser with a fat cock!I have an idea: if you can cum 30 times before class, I will give you one BJ!Hehehe,I bet you love my cheerleader routine!Don't worry, I didn't get there because of my athletic talent. I simply suck my way up! But I will improvise one for you :"Lamichi!Lamichi!He is so lame!Jerking off to blow his brain!Lamichi is in love with me!Lamichi will never lose his virginity!" Wow!How cuteeeeee!he cannot take his eyes off my bouncy breasts!Maybe I should have him as my new Bf!He sound like super fun!Oh and I will not have to worry about homework anymore! Come on Lamichi!You suffer for your queen because you are a big masochist pig!Oink Oink!I want you to cum all your massive balls out!You fucking quickshot!I will let you be my personal pet if you do but you must bark all the way!Come on!Woof Woof Woof!That's right good boy!Woof Woof!Woof!You love to be your bully small dumb doggo!Woof!Look at those jiggly breasts!They are not yours! And you will never touch them!But you can take a longggggg look and jerk off all your neurones to it!You don't need to be smart anyway!Being a Cum slave is perfect for you! Yes,he is perfect!He is my new bf all right! I just have to break up with limp-dick Ouma!Hehehe…

#ask #caption work #Gyaru #Bully #KaedeXShuichi #Tanned #NerdXCheerleader

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daydreaming-in-letters · 1 year

Text

The Heir

Part 3

01/13/2023

Pairing: (Modern Day!)Charles Brandon x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 7,736

Warnings: language, bickering and teasing (so much teasing), alcohol, grief and regret, a smidge of angst, Charles being a giver 👅, unprotected sex, fluff

Summary: One day after the eventful evening at the pub, it's time for a visit at Brandon Manor.

A/N: His Snobbiness and the little tree hugger are back for the third and final part. I know, it's been 84 years, sorry. Hope you still enjoy!

Pictures found here, here and here.

Divider by @fireflygraphics

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

The Old House

The first stars had settled all across the early night sky when she stepped through the archway and onto the grounds of Brandon Manor. A pity it was so late in the day already, she mused, with darkness beginning to shield the beautiful garden from view which she had come to love so much. They had walked here a good many times, the late duke and her, plotting against Charles and his preposterous plans. They seemed almost blasphemous tonight, she thought, as she took in the magnificent estate that stood like a grey giant against the starry firmament.

The seagulls seemed to have decided it was time to retreat in the face of the things to come, the only sounds coming from the gravel that scrunched underneath her determined feet and the low rumble of the waves that broke against the cliffs. She wanted to get this over with, whatever it was he wanted to talk about, before he could lure her even further under his spell.

Yesterday had been a close call, she knew that now. It was still hard to admit, but to know that he had been there right behind her for the whole walk home had been a rather nice feeling. So warm and comforting, daring her to try it on and see where it would lead her. God, she had been almost tempted to wave him goodbye when she had arrived at her doorstep. He had still been there, patiently waiting by the gate until she had unlocked her door and stepped inside.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” she whispered underneath her breath while her hand found the cold head of the stone lion that guarded the main entrance to Brandon Manor in a habitual pat for good luck. “Stay focused, let him say his part and then get your stupid arse out of here before—“ No, she wouldn’t allow herself to say that out loud. Even thinking about it was wrong on so many levels. And she was glad that her body for once seemed to agree with her will as her hand yanked down the cord of the ancient doorbell decisively.

Fully prepared to wait a good while before he would make it to the door from God-knew-where in the extensive house, she flinched when only seconds later the ancient wood gave way to the outline of his broad shoulders. A faint glow surrounded him, probably coming from the library, and the absence of any other light almost hid his shit-eating grin when he recognised his guest.

“Good evening, Miss Y/L/N. Finished hugging trees already?”

A pair of attentive eyes roamed her body freely and she hated how warm it made her feel with so little effort.

“Evening, Your Snobbiness.” And without waiting for his invitation, she pressed past him.

“Please, call me Charles. I feel that’s appropriate after I witnessed you making scrambled eggs out of a useless pair of testicles yesterday.”

She didn’t need to look at him, the slight teasing in his tone was enough to make her envision the dazzling smirk that was most likely accompanying his words.

“Fine,” she mumbled almost inaudibly, forgetting why she had said it in the first place. There was a faint memory of the words she had actually wanted to throw at him, but when she had turned, his dukey handsomeness had simply taken her breath away. Of course she knew that he was a pretty fucker, but seeing him here, in his natural habitat, his sharp, stubbly jawline and his twinkling eyes hit completely different.

And as if that wasn’t already enough for her senses to deal with, he had chosen yet another outfit that one would expect to find in a posh country fashion catalogue. His camel turtleneck jumper fit his skin tone perfectly while the dark brown suede jacket he wore above it resembled the colour of his hair. And amongst all those earthy shades, his stormy blue eyes stood out like two exquisite jewels.

He must have said something judging from the hand he was holding out towards her expectantly. For a second she stared at it in total confusion, not sure whether he wanted her to take it, before she decided against her instinct and shot him a quizzical look.

“Your jacket,” he repeated the last bit of his question, a knowing smirk pulling the corners of his mouth upwards.

Bloody gorgeous man. And so she reluctantly peeled herself out of her jacket, after she had set her camera carefully onto the bench next to the coat rack. With a silent gesture he bade her to follow him as soon as she was ready.

“I assume you failed yet again on your quest to take a picture of the white stag?”

Her answer was a murderous glare. “And what if I didn’t fail this time?”

His lips twitched a little while he held her infuriated gaze. “Oh, you did. Otherwise you wouldn’t have wasted a single second to rub your success in.”

“Idiot.”

Her annoyance pulled a deep chuckle from his chest that echoed from the high walls of the empty hall as he led her up the stairs. She knew all too well where he would take her and the memory made her heart grow heavy. Right at the head of the stairs lay one of the former reception rooms which had served his father as a spacious living room with its large fireplace. Two high glass doors led onto a huge balcony. It was common knowledge that there was no view of the sea in the whole of Fakeston that was more beautiful than the view from up here.

It was here that she had last seen the old man, only a day before his heart had gotten tired of beating and as Charles opened the door for her now, she didn’t know whether to feel relieved or heartbroken about the fact that nothing had changed here since her last visit. If anything, the lack of change made it even more apparent how different the room felt now that he was gone. It seemed a little too big, a touch too dark and the crackling fire couldn’t fully warm the stately old place tonight.

She felt the sudden urge to get out of here. It had been a bad idea to meet with Charles anyway, but before she could think of a good excuse to leave, she felt Charles’ presence behind her back. In an instant she turned, neither trusting him nor herself when he was this close, but to her surprise she found him holding a small wooden box that had definitely seen better days. It was covered in battered crimson velvet which, together with the metal clasp at its front, made it look positively ancient.

“What’s that?”

“That’s the reason I needed to speak to you.”

Carefully his strong hands opened the lid to reveal a stunning gold and silver pendant, beaded with pearls and dark red gemstones. It was attached to a silver necklace that was held together by a small hook, matching the pendant perfectly.

She didn’t understand what this breathtaking piece of jewellery could possibly have to do with her and she understood even less why he shoved the box into her hands.

“It’s yours.” For a moment there was silence. She didn’t know what to say, hell, she didn’t even know if she had heard him correctly and so she was more than pleased when he chose to speak again. “My father instructed me very clearly in his last will that you should have it.”

Patiently, he waited for her response and when she still didn’t move after a while, he reached inside the box, fingers closing around the precious object to take it out. Mere seconds later she could feel the weight of the necklace around her neck, the touch of the cool metal finally making her snap out of her petrified state.

“It has been passed down in my family from generation to generation, mother to daughter or daughter-in-law. I guess leaving it to you means my father gave up all hope I’d ever find a wife to pass it on to.”

“I can’t possibly accept this.” The fingers of her free hand were already reaching for the hook, fumbling blindly at the nape of her neck, when a pair of determined hands wrapped around her own and gently stopped her antics.

“You can and you will.” His tone made it unmistakably clear that he wouldn’t argue with her on this matter, even if his eyes couldn’t fully hide the irritation about his father’s decision, and so her fingers went limp and abandoned their task. “If only because it suits you so exceptionally well.”

Had he just— “Was…Was that a compliment?”

“A compliment?” he spat, a wild smile gracing his lips as he took a step back. “Why on earth would I compliment you? Have you forgotten that we are sworn enemies?”

“How could I ever forget when your infuriating face is right in front of me as a constant reminder of our feud?”

She mirrored his dazzling smirk, her eyes refusing to do the decent thing and look away.

“I take it you’re not interested in staying for a glass of wine then?”

“Indeed I am not.” For a second his smile faltered while hers stayed perfectly in place. “Yet, it is the least I can do after robbing you of your family jewels, don’t you think?”

And there it was again, the million dollar smile that suited him so well and made her knees go weak a little every time. But now, she almost regretted her answer when it made him turn away from her to fill their glasses.

Suddenly, she felt awfully naive. Why had she agreed to stay? Did she really hope anything would happen between him and her tonight? He would never see her as anything more than a tree hugger, a nuisance to his perfect plan. Not that she wanted him to see her as anything else in the first place. What a ridiculous thought. She and Charles Brandon. Ridiculous!

It must have been the pretty room with its romantic fireplace that had gotten to her head. Maybe a bit of fresh air would make her see clearly again. And so she strutted over to the large glass doors and stepped onto the balcony. She walked straight over to the balustrade, letting the fresh breeze that came from the sea ease the turmoil he managed to awaken deep inside of her whenever she was with him.

It was a beautiful night, the crescent moon sat brightly in the clear sky, a few of its beams kissing the waves to crown them with pure silver. Despite the light, she could only guess where the land ended and the cliffs dropped down into the rolling waves although she had seen the thin line of the cliff’s edge a thousand times from this very spot. The wind wasn’t as harsh as it usually was up here, or maybe there was another reason why she didn’t feel its chilly blow as strongly tonight.

Unconsciously, her fingers lifted to find the Brandons’ family heirloom. The pendant felt a little strange as it rested against her warm skin, the white drop of a pearl that was attached to it dangling dangerously close above the valley of her breasts.

She had been so deep in thought that she almost jumped when the glass of wine appeared seemingly out of nowhere in front of her face. Still a little startled, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“The necklace is quite heavy.”

“My father always said it was a symbol of the hardships our title brings along with it.”

“Hardships?” She huffed. “I’m sorry, but I fail to see the hardships you are suffering because of your title.”

His face stayed completely unreadable as he looked out across the bay and for a moment she thought he might not have heard her pointed remark at all when he turned to her again with that playful smirk on his lips.

“Well, for one, there would be the hardship of your company.”

“Hm. Isn’t it the other way around really? I mean, I suffer from your company just as much, plus, it’s me who has to carry the burden of this historical necklace from now on.”

He lifted his glass, using it to point towards her own.

“It’s a good thing you have some wine then to help you through the seemingly never ending hours of my company.”

He leaned in, still holding out his glass towards her with that darned smile on his face.

“To our shared suffering.”

“Cheers.”

Even in the darkness his eyes cast their bewitching spell on her as he held her gaze while he lifted his glass. And he didn’t let go, not even to blink. This man was insufferable, leaving her no choice but to be the reasonable one in this duo and pretend to let her eyes wander to enjoy the majestic view across the moonlit bay.

“How’s Henry? I haven’t seen him around since you used him to thwart my plans the other morning.”

“He’s fine. He fell asleep in the library a while ago. It’s his favourite place in the house. Probably something about the sweet smell of old books, don’t you think?”

She looked over at him and she couldn’t help but wonder if he actually shared his dog’s fondness for old books. There was something utterly enticing about the thought of him in that library, sitting on the window seat or in one of the old wing chairs, completely lost to the world around him. She bet he had the most wonderful reading voice, low and warm as he painted colourful pictures word by word.

“Are you okay?”

Shit, she must have zoned out for a moment.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

In a small fit of panic her hand locked around the heavy pendant again and his eyes followed her movement, providing her with the perfect opportunity to seize revenge for making her fantasise about him. Slowly her fingers loosened and glided along the curve of her breast in slow motion until she let her arm fall to her side nonchalantly.

“You’re shivering. Should we go back inside?”

“No, I’m not,” he denied, his eyes shooting up from her chest to form an expression of outrage.

Oh, he had definitely been shivering. “Yes, you are, Your Grace.”

“I am most certainly not.” He raised his chin in defiance. “But we can go back inside if you wish.”

With a triumphant smile, she nodded and wasted no more time to turn towards the building.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you called me by my title,” he started to tease again as they headed inside, obviously regaining his old self-confidence.

“Oh, I wouldn’t read too much into that if I were you. Just a little something to warm your heart as you were so obviously freezing.”

“Was not!”

“Yes, you were.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes like an annoyed teenager, but he couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at his lips. His enticing, perfectly shaped lips, so tempting, so kissable, making it so easy to forget that he was still the villain in this whole story.

The sudden change of air as they stepped back inside made her shudder and she drew away before he could notice. She could feel his quizzical gaze on her back as she walked over to the dark mahogany table that held an old gramophone, its metal horn shining in the dancing flames of the fire. It didn’t surprise her in the least when she found the same record sitting on the turntable that had played during her last visit and even after she had wound the crank and carefully placed the needle, her lips held a wistful smile when she looked up to find Charles again.

He was standing by the fireplace now, watching her carefully. She could be mistaken in the dim light, but was there a hint of concern in his eyes? Or was it something else entirely? Something she felt inside as well and was trying so hard to push aside.

“What are you doing?” he asked. The question seemed a bit silly, especially since the first crackling notes of the song already filled the silence, but she chose to satisfy his curiosity anyway.

“Making some music.”

She didn’t know what vexed him more, that she seemed to find it necessary to state the obvious for him or the smug smile she chose to accompany her statement with, but the rolling of his eyes in fake annoyance had been well worth it.

“Thanks for enlightening me, but I can see that.”

“Then why bother asking?” He was just about to come up with a flippant retort, when she cut him off short. “Did you know that this was your father’s favourite?”

“I…I didn’t.” In the blink of an eye all the playfulness that had made his eyes shine so beautifully was gone. “Just like all the other things I didn’t know about him.”

He tore his eyes away to stare into the flames instead, making her stomach clench and her heart ache for him. In the past, she had often imagined to hurt his Snobbiness in the most creative ways for what he wanted to do to the very building they were standing in right now, but never would she have aimed this low. Yet, without intent, she had and before she even knew what she was doing, she found herself by his side, her hand gently squeezing his arm.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have…” Slowly he lifted his gaze to find her eyes again, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe upon the sheer amount of pain and regret that mirrored in the stormy blue. “Can we please not talk about this tonight?”

“Of course.”

Anything. Anything to make that sparkle return to his eyes again.

“How about a dance instead?”

“Huh?”

Anything but that, obviously. He couldn’t be serious, could he? She must have misheard.

“Dance with me. Please.”

He was joking. He must be. As if she would—

A movement broke her train of thought, and when she followed it, she found his hand already waiting for her to take it. So she had heard him correctly. Interesting. Interesting and rather fortunate. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for all evening, her chance to fight for her cause once again. Maybe the last she would ever get. There was no way she couldn’t take it, still she felt bad about what she was about to do.

“I will, if you agree to come to the village council meeting and talk about your plans for Brandon Manor.”

She had expected him to decline or at least think it over for a moment, but he didn’t even hesitate.

“Agreed.”

Eager to cash in his benefit of the deal immediately, he didn’t even wait for her to process his answer before he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms. The smuggest of grins began to spread over his face as a startled gasp escaped her, and instead of allowing her some space to breathe, he even tightened his hold and brought her closer still.

A dance. It was just a dance. No need to freeze in his arms, every muscle taut to a point that bordered on painful. But forcing herself to relax was easier said than done, with him pressed up against her body, moving so close to her, only the slightest bit, but enough to make her feel all of him. She didn’t dare look up into his eyes, afraid of what she would find there and, even worse, what it would do to her. Unfortunately, looking down turned out to be no less aggravating as the image of his defined pecs forced itself upon her, clenching and stretching the fine wool of his jumper so deliciously.

Heat. Heat was all she felt. The heat from the fire, the heat of his touch, seeping through her clothes and underneath her skin where his large hand rested against her back, rushing through her, multiplying, until it filled every last inch of her being.

Even the divine softness of the suede leather underneath her fingertips couldn’t soothe her agony. She could still feel him, despite the extra layer of clothing it provided, and no matter how hard she tried to fight it, the thought how he would feel against her without the protection of their clothes kept pushing itself back into her mind relentlessly. It was torture, and enchanting none the less. It made her careless, made her want to relax in his arms, to give in and let him lead the way.

But the spell was broken suddenly when she could feel his leg slide in between hers, his massive thigh clenching and pressing against the one spot where all the heat that burned her body from the inside seemed to collect. With another gasp, her head flew up. A bad idea, she realised, as the sudden movement stirred the air and, the very second her eyes locked onto his, brought a heady whiff of his scent. And she was lost, defenceless against the invasion of her every sense by the same man she had vowed to oppose—to hate—forever.

And now she found herself in his arms, dizzy with want for him, clinging to him tighter with every passing second. She needed to stop this before it would lead to something more, something they would both regret in the morning.

“Remind me again,” she whispered, resting her cheek against his to hide her face, “how did we end up here?”

“I guess it all started with you touching my hand that night at the pub.” He fell silent for a moment, but she could sense that there was something else coming. “I have been wanting to ask you all evening. Why did you do it?”

Her first instinct was to evade his question or to tease him again, but there was something about the tone of his voice, about the way his body seemed to stiffen the slightest bit, that made it impossible not to answer him truthfully.

“I remembered something your father had told me about you. By the time I thought it was just wishful thinking or his guilty conscience speaking. I thought he wanted to make excuses for your abominable behaviour so badly that he’d rather blame himself than letting his son be the villain in this scenario. But that night at the pub, I…I realised he may have been right about you all along.”

“And what did he tell you?”

His lips were so close to her ear, his warm breath wafting over her neck with a shiver.

“He…he believed that the death of your mother broke you and he regretted he wasn’t able to give you the love you would have needed and deserved so much. Your father only realised when it was too late that he had been so caught up in his own grief he had failed at being a good father to you.”

It was the truth, and still it pained her to tell it. Not as much as it must have pained him, judging from the deafening silence that pushed itself between the two of them for a while.

“So it was pity I have to thank for this?”

The icy spite in his voice froze her in place at once. On instinct his accusation made her push him off a little, to be away from him just as much as to be able to look into his eyes. Still her words were as soft as the touch of a feather when she spoke again.

“No. I think your grief gave me something I could relate to, something we had in common. And even though I wanted to hate you more than anything, I couldn’t. Not anymore.” Her eyes fell to her hands that still rested against his chest from pushing him off. “I guess you can’t really hate a person you share an experience as intense as the early loss of a parent with.”

She had feared he might have questions that would force her to dig up the memory of her father again, a memory she had so carefully stowed away deep inside her heart. Only sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, she allowed it to resurface, but it always came at the cost of pain and tears and nightmares. But to her great surprise he didn’t ask any questions. Instead she could feel the gentle touch of his fingers, grasping her chin and lifting her head.

“I’m glad my father had you in his life when I couldn’t be there for him.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. He knew why you couldn’t and he forgave you for it.”

“I know.” The hand on her chin fell to his side as he tore his eyes away from hers. “What I don’t know is if I can ever forgive myself.”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that either, but I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to have this weigh on your conscience for the rest of your life.”

With her words, the song died away, leaving a silence that was almost unbearable. It made her uncomfortable, more than their first encounter or his unexpected appearance at the pub ever could have, and it made her foolish. And so she reached for his hand.

She had never expected her gesture to bring much comfort, but then he squeezed it gently, and she couldn’t believe her eyes when he even brought it up to his lips to place a tender kiss to her knuckles. This must be a dream. His Snobbiness would never…

It was only when he pulled her in again, holding her tight and swaying her slowly that she realised the next song had started to play. Eyes fixed on her, he monitored her closely. She didn’t know if he was waiting for something or if he was just teasing again, whatever it was, she didn’t want this to stop.

“So, um, Miss Treehugger, we’re still sworn enemies, right?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely, Your Snobbiness.”

“Good. Good. I’d thought you might say that.” He still held her gaze, his face the epitome of seriousness as his forehead began to wrinkle. “Tell me this though. Why are you smiling then?”

“Smiling?” She wasn’t, was she? Oh dear, it seemed she was. Deny. Deny. “I’m not smiling.”

“No, you definitely are smiling.” Urgh, she was. And that measly try of playing it down wouldn’t even have convinced herself.

“I told you, I am most certainly not! Probably just about to have a stroke caused by the enraging company.”

As excuses go, that had certainly been a better one. Still, it didn’t need more than a cock of his eyebrow to make her cave.

“Fine. So what if I was actually smiling?”

His pokerface was without a doubt masterful in comparison to hers.

“Nothing,” he stated nonchalantly. “I would just be wondering what you are smiling about.” “My point exactly. What would I have to smile about right now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe…could it be because of me?” The scornful huff that came from deep within didn’t seem to impress him much. “Do you by any chance enjoy dancing with me?” He even had the audacity to lean in. “Being close to me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Your Grace.”

A deep chuckle followed her comment, and the mischievous sparkle in his eyes told her that he was far from finished teasing her.

“You know, just a thought, but if the two of us were characters in a story, I think we both know that right now was the moment we would ever so slightly drift closer until—”

His voice was so deliciously low, luring her into the little narrative he had spun.

“Until?” she breathed, her eyes betraying her last restraint, already knowing the answer as they dropped down to his mouth.

“Until our lips would touch in a tender kiss.”

With all her might she willed down the moan that was forming in her throat, but still her body chose to betray her, pressing itself up against his, one hand drifting around his neck.

“You mean like this?”

“Exactly like this.”

Determined fingers cupped her cheek without resistance and she knew she was lost as his eyes betrayed him just as much, glued to the movement of her lips as she went on.

“What a ridiculous thought. You hate me, just as much as I hate you. And this enemies-to-lovers nonsense only ever works in corny romance stories.”

“You’re right. It’s ludicrous. I would never.”

Determined fingers pulled her face to his, his hot breath caressing her lips. And with the final shred of sanity leaving her body, she whispered her last protest.

“Never.”

And then his lips were there, so soft, yet so enticingly demanding. There was no more room for teasing as he pulled her closer, his body moving so delectably against her own while his mouth devoured her, coaxed her to open up to him so he could claim her wholly. And by all that was holy to her, she wanted him. Wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin, his mouth roam her breasts while he moved inside her. She wanted to be his, and make him hers in return. But—

With a gasp she broke away. “I should leave now.”

“Why?”

She had hurt him, again. But he would thank her for it in the morning.

“To spare us both the regret.” Obviously, he wasn’t of the same opinion at all, clasping her even tighter. “Please, if you don’t let me leave now, I fear I won’t be able to stop.”

“Is that what you want? To stop?”

Oh, how much she wanted to lie, to tell him that she didn’t want him at all, that this was wrong. But she couldn’t. And when her answer finally came, it was feeble but decided.

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

The words sounded so simple from his mouth, so logical, but they were nothing compared to the feeling of giving in to her desire. It was all-consuming, pulling her in until she wanted to drown in his kisses just to be resurrected by his possessive touch, spiralling her right into a frenzy. There were hands and mouths everywhere. And in a heartbeat she was afire, burning in his arms, and yet she had never felt more alive.

It was only the touch of his bare skin against hers that made her come to her senses again.

“Charles,” she sighed and as if she had lifted the spell that had unleashed their carnal desire, he broke away. But she had been wrong once again, it seemed, as she opened her eyes to find the most alluring sight in front of her, making her knees go weak in an instant. But despite the most prominent thing, she couldn’t even tell what aroused her more, his furry chest, heaving as he used the short intermission to catch his breath, or his eyes, dark, and gleaming with want for her as they roamed her naked form freely. She could have stared at him forever, sadly the pleasure his sight brought was short lived. Soon his gaze settled on her neck, making her wonder what was so interesting about it until his hand reached out to trace the silver necklace all the way down to the gorgeous pendant.

“As I said,” he grinned cheekily, “exceptional.”

His lips mimicked his fingers, following their path along the precious piece of jewellery, and further down. He was kissing, licking, sucking every last inch of her chest, basking in the sweet melody of lewd sounds he coaxed from her lips. She found herself on the brink of madness already when all of a sudden, he decided to stop. Her eyes snapped open in an instant, finding him on his knees, the exact position she wanted him in, his lips mere inches away from her stomach, but all he did was stare up at her with a wicked grin on his lips.

“You are insufferable, Brandon.”

As expected, his grin only grew wider. “Am I now?” And with that his lips found her skin again. Leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses, he ventured south, seemingly giving her what she wanted, just to hold once again, right above where she needed his attention most.

“Will you stop teasing me already?”

“As you wish.”

She had never expected him to yield this easily and so she watched in disbelief as his tongue found her hot sex, slipping right in between her folds without hesitation.

“Ah, fuck!”

His eyes shot up to hers upon the expletive his actions had caused, and although his mouth was too engaged in pleasuring her to display the devilish smirk on his face, the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. What a sight, to see his gorgeous face between her legs, his sharp tongue finally put to good use after the aggravating comments it usually produced. A skill he had mastered just as much as the art of making her knees buckle and her head swim with the exquisite rolls and flicks of his tongue.

As if he had read her mind, his eyebrows rose up in a challenge and she had to bite her tongue not to moan his name out loud again. She wouldn’t grant him that satisfaction, not before he had granted hers. But he seemed very eager to please tonight, so his tongue was soon joined by two of his fingers. Carefully they pressed into her, a task made easy by the juices that had already collected thanks to his supreme ministrations, while his other hand clutched her bottom tightly to keep her upright.

She had thought it was a rather presumptuous gesture, but as soon as he started to move within her, she found that it wasn’t enough at all. In the dire need to steady herself, she grabbed a fistful of his hair. Just the one should be sufficient, she assumed, but she was proven wrong once more. Her tight grip on him forced a groan so powerful the vibration made her see stars as it rolled across her sensitive pearl. And so her other hand dove into his lush locks as well.

She was so close already, her hands now guiding his movements in tune with the rhythmic thrusts of his fingers. God, this was—

“Don’t stop,” she panted, “don’t you dare stop.”

He didn’t. Instead she heard him mumble something against her that sounded suspiciously like, “Never,” before he tightened his firm grip on her behind to pull her further into him and all of her senses clouded over at once. Her eyes fell closed as the rapture of her high surged through her. She didn’t feel her fingers tighten in his hair, didn’t hear his muffled curses against her sex, half pleasure half pain, that mixed with her own praise of his name so beautifully.

“Charles,” she whispered once again as he slowly retreated, leaving her blissed out yet unbearably empty and already hungry for more. Her whole body was still trembling as he guided her onto his lap and into a strong pair of arms that eagerly awaited her. For a while he just held her like that, his hands drifting up and down her back soothingly while her fingers subconsciously played with the silky fur that covered his chest, until she had calmed down.

Then, as if it was nothing to him, he moved her around, softly laying her onto the plush, warm carpet next to the fireplace.

“Are you all right?” he asked, hovering above her, his thumb lightly gliding along the apple of her cheek.

“I’m perfect.”

“Perfect? Really? Are you sure?”

The playfulness in his voice made her chuckle, and the slight movement it caused evoked his hardened arousal to twitch promisingly against her.

“Well,” she rasped, fingernails grazing down his side, “maybe not completely perfect.”

He smirked through the shiver her nails had caused, “That’s what I thought.”

But to her great dismay, he seemed to be in no hurry to reach that state of perfection he had so thoroughly hinted at, as he leaned down ever so slowly to catch her lips with his. It didn’t take long though before his craving seemed to grow stronger. Soon he deepened the kiss, his tongue fulfilling what the teasing roll of his hips so far had only promised. But then she could feel it, his hand finally reaching in between their bodies. Yet, it was no time to rejoice because, being the annoying tease he was, he chose to torture her just a little longer, dragging his tip lazily through her folds, pressing it into her entrance only the slightest bit every now and then.

“Are you really going to make me beg, Your Grace?”

He might have planned on it, she couldn’t tell for sure, but the second his title rolled so pointedly over he tongue, he was done for. With a groan so sinful it caused another blazing wave of heat to shoot through her core, he gave in, sinking into her slowly but all at once.

The sensation of feeling him, all of him, threatening to overwhelm her, she clung to him tightly, legs closing around his hips just in case he was considering to tease her again. But he didn’t, not anymore. His mind was set on one thing only now, and he was about to drive her insane in the process with his slow, deep strokes.

All she could feel was him, moving inside her, stirring the fire he had already unleashed once anew, his lips that had found her neck, sucking her soft flesh as his heady grunts and groans invaded her ears. It was everything, almost too much, yet still not enough.

But the relief came soon, with a single bite to her neck. The sweet sting made her back arch, slightly shifting the angle of his already maddening thrusts and she keened in delight as he hit the perfect spot. Over and over he found it, slowly making her loose all sense of time and space. She needed to touch him, to look into his eyes once more before she would be gone to the world a second time. Her hands reached for him on instinct, cupping his cheeks to lift his head from the crook of her neck and she was rewarded with the most dazzling smile she had ever seen on his face.

“Are you gonna come for me again?”

Yes, god, yes, she would. Just one more moment, one more languid thrust, one more look at his sickeningly handsome face, those lips, so perfectly shaped, she mused as her thumb traced the pink flesh. With the grin of a famished wolf who was only seconds away from sating his ravenous hunger on his prey, his lips opened and her finger slipped inside. Greedily he sucked it deeper, elation flooding his blue orbs the second he watched her eyes roll back into her head as she satisfied his desire and surrendered herself to euphoria once again.

Through the haze of her high she heard him moan her name, faintly noticed his hand reaching for her own, fingers intertwining before he tightened his grip and allowed himself to join her in her rapture.

His kisses grew soft as their frenzied passion slowly subsided, and with one final brush of her lips and a placid smile he rolled off of her. It was cold in the absence of his body over hers and she shivered.

“Come here,” he mumbled, offering her the comfortable resting spot on his wide chest and she accepted. Immediately his warmth embraced her. It was peaceful here by the fire, nestled into his side, one arm holding her tight, legs entangled while his lips pressed to her hair. She could have stayed like this forever.

In the silence, the drum of his heart was loud and clear against her ear, strong and steady beats underneath her fingertips, seemingly unfazed by what had just passed between them. And it was in this very moment the realisation hit her harder than it should have, leaving a touch of nausea in her stomach.

But what had she expected? That he would be deliriously happy? That he would fall in love with her just because they had shared this insignificant moment of passion? She was such a fool.

She must have stirred in his arms, drawing his attention to her agitated state unintentionally.

“What’s wrong? Are you cold?”

Her first impulse was to go with it or simply act as if there wasn’t a single thing burdening her mind, but even now that whatever they had was officially over, she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him.

“No. I’m just so…disappointed.”

“Ouch. That’s a first,” he huffed, the wound in his words unmistakeable even though he tried to hide it behind a crooked smile.

“Not in you.” Idiot, she would have liked to add. But that would be unfair since the only idiot in the room was she. “In myself.” And with that she sat up.

He followed her example immediately, pushing himself up onto his elbow.

“What? Why?”

“Because I did the one thing I vowed never to do.” She couldn’t stand the confusion on his face any longer, honest or fake, she needed to turn away and burry her face in her hands. “Oh god, I really did sleep with the enemy in the end.”

The low chuckle that followed felt like a slap. A well earned one, that much was clear. She should have known he would attempt to lure her under his spell and fuck her brains out so she would give up her silly war and let him have his way with Brandon Manor, and she had made it so easy for him. She hadn't even tried to resist him.

“Did you though?”

His answer startled her and she needed a moment to process his words.

“Well, obviously,” she snapped over her shoulder, “or are you telling me you are not the Duke of Suffolk?”

“I’m sorry to say I am.” He sighed, and his scorching breath rolled over her shoulder like a warning. Still she flinched when a second later his lips pressed to the very same spot in a soft kiss. “But maybe I’m not your enemy.”

“You still want to build this bloody hotel, don’t you?”

Her voice was icy and she hoped with all her might that he would finally take the hint and leave her be before her hand would slip. God knew he could use a little clip round the ear.

“It pains me a little to admit after all the fun I had bickering with you, but I don’t.” What? He couldn’t be serious. In the blink of an eye she turned around, searching his eyes to see if he was just mocking her, but all she found was the tiniest hint of an apologetic smile on his lips. “And I never did. I made the whole thing up to get back at my old man.”

So he had been lying to her this whole time? The little… She wanted to slap him now more than ever, but then she realised what this actually meant. Brandon Manor was safe. No teardown, no hotel. And as soon as the rage had bubbled up inside of her, it calmed again.

“But you’re still leaving by the end of the month?”

“That was the plan, yes. Other than this old house, nothing is keeping me here.” She felt the sudden urge to avert her gaze, but somehow there was something about the way he looked at her that forced down her first instinct. “But I have a feeling that might be about to change.”

There he sat, right in front of her with that darned triumphant smile on his face, His Snobbiness Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, her sworn enemy, about to worm his way into her heart and there was nothing she could do but sit and watch.

“You know,” he rasped while his fingers trailed along the line of her jaw and made her shiver, “I heard tree hugging is supposed to be very beneficial for the heart. So I think I might give that a try.” His fingertips had come dangerously close to her lips and she was about to open up and let him do whatever he wanted to when they fell away and the suddenly very ceremonious tone of his voice irritated her. “I also still have the duties of a duke to fulfil, a county to rule—”

“Idiot,” she chuckled in amusement, her palm pressing against his chest playfully to push him further off of her. But he was quick to grab her wrist, his other hand cupping her cheek as he hauled her against his chest again.

“And a few peasants to vex.”

His kiss wasn’t like any other kiss they had exchanged tonight. It felt easy, free of all the tension and silent doubt that had been hovering above them this whole time. This, right here, right now, was heaven.

She was still smiling when he stopped to look at her again.

“What? Did you think you would get rid of me so easily?”

“Oh, I’d never count myself that lucky, Your Grace.”

The boyish grin on his lips died away suddenly, making room for a hunger in his eyes she didn’t find there for the first time tonight.

“You know,” he growled dangerously lowly, “you really should go easy on the Your-Grace-thing, at least if you ever want us to get to that village council meeting you lured me into in exchange for that dance.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” slowly she leaned in, her cheek brushing along his until her lips found his ear in a whisper, “Your Grace.”

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imobsessedwiththeatre · 3 months

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Anne Boleyn: the family meeting♕

Anne was walking around the castle, she was at 7th month of pregnancy and her stomach was bit rounded. She had her hair long, dark, hair down, resting On her back. She was kind od nervous because she is going to meet ms. father. She aint sure how he wpuls react since there was a rumours that the king cheated on her and the mr. Father wouldnt be so happy about it. Father abused Anne and her sister Mary and used them as pawns in the game for money, status and fame by selling their bodies.

***

News about Lady Jane Seymour joining Ladies in waiting to the Queen were spreading which was weird because Jane was only a daughter of a poor family. She was a little chubby, she got blonde hair and blue eyes. She was religious and she didnt knew what other ladies in waiting meant while they were talking about courtiers before they sleep. The king was bit interested in Jane becasue she seemed like a kind, gentle lady.

***

It was 3pm and Anne was about to meet Ms. Father in the royal garden. She was stressed because the father maked her suffer, and made her childhood trauma. She headed to the Royal garden looking down the floor in her dark green dress and her french hood was almost falling of her head. Finally the father came to Anne, and the Queen felt Rush of anxiety through her body. She bowed (which was also weird because he is supposed to bow to a queen)

–"G-Good Morning..Father."

Senior Boleyn smirked at her. He was still in power because of the trauma he made her. He decided to respond to daughter

–"Morning, Anne."

He said with cold tone as he came closer to The Queen. He hugged her which was too pure to be true. Anne eyes widen and she wasnt allowed to hug back..this was too much. Thomas boleyn (father) hugged her tighter and whisperead in her ear

–"there are some rumours you slept with Charles Brandon. This is true or not?"

Anne didnt believed what she heard..What was that? Where did he get that from? Anne was shocked. She tried to get words from her mouth

–"I-I.."

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dungeonpuppykai · 2 months

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Exotic (Dark!Charles Brandon | Brown!Reader)

Summary: She was The Duke of Suffolk's exotic little gift for devising the perfect plan that had led to the successful colonization of her homeland.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Charles Brandon. This story contains dark and mature content so please browse at your own discretion. Minors do not interact.

Pairing: Dark!Charles Brandon x Brown!Reader.

Status: Complete.

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#charles brandon #charles brandon x reader #the tudors #charles brandon smut #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x reader

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norabrice1701 · 7 months

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The Duke & The Witch - Ch. 10

Charles Brandon x Fem!OC, A The Tudors Slight-AU fic

Series Main List

Ch. 10 Warnings: Discussion of witchcraft; period-typical attitudes towards everything (women, religion, witchcraft, etc.); fantastical squinty science/alchemy; torture (pleasure as pain)

The door to her cell rattles open, light spilling across the floor. “Come along, you!” The guard’s gruff words match his brusque manner as he crosses the cell to roughly pull her to her feet. With the meager food rations, her strength slowly abandons her, and yet even with the prospect of yet another interrogation looming, she offers no resistance as they lead her out in the corridor.

Her hands remain shackled together and affixed to chains that now wrap around her ankles. They had been in place ever since Charles’ first demonstration of the powders in her gauntlet. But doesn’t that just prove she was only as powerful as the powders that she carries? Has Charles not proved that she is harmless when left to her own devices?

Dark passageways flank the corridor as they steer her through the unnerving shadows. A shiver of fear races down her spine when the guard stops outside a thick, gnarled wood door. He raps twice with a fist before throwing open the heavy bolt and revealing the scene within.

The tall man - the one with narrow dark eyes and curly hair who had greeted Charles in the courtyard when she first arrived here - stands by a small table. His ubiquitous black ledger rests under his arm as he regards her with a disquieting satisfaction before turning towards the guard. “Chain her to the wall.” He says with effortless authority, turning his back with full expectation of having his command carried out.

Another shiver works through her as her back meets the cold, damp stone, and the chain from her wrist shackles is bound to the wall. She tugs experimentally on her bonds, the metal clanking noisily but yielding no movement.

The guard retreats, disappearing through the doorway before closing the heavy door to leave her alone with the man. A nervous swallow sticks in her throat as her breathing quickens. If this is an interrogation, shouldn’t Charles be here? And the King? Again, she pulls at her chains as anxiety pits in her stomach.

“You needn’t struggle.” The man’s voice holds a honeyed calmness. “At least, not yet. Not if you answer my questions satisfactorily.”

She fixes him with a hard stare, swallowing hard. “Shouldn’t… shouldn’t the King or His Grace be present for more questions?”

“They’re far too busy to be bothered with such trivial matters.” He turns towards her with a solemn, even pleading look. “If you and I are able to reach an accord today, then it will only help build your case for His Majesty.”

“My case.” Her chains rattle as she leans forward. “My case to determine if I am indeed a witch.”

“This is more of a sidebar to that official inquiry. What His Grace demonstrated does not qualify by default. If you are proven innocent, then there may yet be a use for you.”

Her brow furrows with indignation as unease creeps down her spine.

His dark gaze searches her face as he continues. “But first - I would like to know about the metal around your wrists.”

She stiffens, unsure just how much she should say. Or how this man could possibly know about that. Charles hadn’t revealed that during the last meeting. Unless… unless something happened while she was asleep?

“Come, come…” he encourages. “You needn’t be so modest. You have no secrets anymore. When you fell unconscious, your sleeves exposed the most curious bits of metal that looked… embedded in your skin somehow…”

She swallows hard. “Yes. It’s steel. A failed experiment of my father’s laboratory.”

“Laboratory?”

“Yes. At his former university.”

The man’s head tilts with interest. “So, you do have a surname.”

“Yes.”

“Well, come – I would have it.” He opens his ledger, balancing it in his hands. “If we can find your father or a record of him, that might help your case.”

“My surname is of no consequence – my father is dead and long disgraced from his university post.”

“I should say so if he burns metal into his daughter’s skin.” He pauses, seeming to reconsider as he blinks up at her. “What was the purpose of the metal? Even if the experiment failed.”

“He was searching for a way to control metal. To – act like a magnet, I think. I was very little and since it didn’t work, he didn’t want to linger on the failed theory.” She hopes it sounds convincing enough to satisfy this man.

But the hum that pitches low in his throat does nothing to set her ease. “Perhaps,” he concedes. “While all of that is intriguing, I would have you tell it again to His Majesty. It’s just curious enough to invite further scrutiny. But for now.” He snaps the ledger shut and walks around the small table, leveling her with a hard stare. “Based on your powders alone, would you ever act against His Majesty?”

Her eyes widen with appalled surprise. “Never.”

“Then if you will not act against him, would you swear yourself to his service? Using your knowledge only for the betterment of the realm?”

“The betterment of the realm?”

“Surely you cannot deny the value of such powders on the battlefield. Or in the service of peacefully advancing the king’s reformations.”

Slowly she shakes her head. “No.”

“No?”

“The implications are far too reaching to swear my service in that capacity.”

“I don’t think you understand. I find myself in a unique situation with your case.” He starts softly, his face masked in dark shadows. “Unlike so many others, my aim is not to send you to the chopping block. I want you to yield, to surrender your services exclusively for use by the king and crown. So, I cannot afford to have you permanently damaged. At least, not initially. But, rest assured, that should your stubbornness continue, the more likely it becomes that your life will be forfeit.”

Her heart hammers as the implications of his words swirl in her mind. She doesn’t dare say anything - unless she accepts his other, everything else just seems to condemn her to further punishment.

He steps closer, eyes hard with determined intent. A gulp works her throat as she stares up at him and he speaks in a low chilling tone. “I ask you again - will you submit yourself to the king’s service, bequeathing and using your knowledge solely for the gain of His Majesty and the betterment of the kingdom?”

She wets her top lip uneasily. “For the betterment of the kingdom? At the expense of others, you mean.”

“Presumptuous of you to spin my words.”

She shakes her head. “The world is all about balance. And you would seek to undo it.”

His face brightens with curiosity. “Now, that is something I should be most interested in. A balance, you say? For surely, your powders are just a matter of finding and proportioning the correct ingredients.”

“Every plant that is plucked, every spider that is crushed,” she clarifies. “It’s all a price to pay.”

He sighs with disgusted boredom. “Spare me your morality. You’re in no position to barter with it.”

“It’s not a barter.”

“Then it’s a refusal.”

She squeezes her eyes shut for the space of a breath as the answer weighs heavily in her heart. “I cannot commit my skills to the power of any one man. And the cost is too high to widely teach.”

“Regrettable. That is truly regrettable.” His words sound genuine, matched by the heavy look in his eyes as he turns around with a sweep of dark clothing in his wake as he sets his ledger down. “But I have to admit, the demonstration by Brandon was rather illuminating and opened up a vast wealth of potential. It did seem, however, that he bestowed mercy a little too quickly – but we can fix that.” He reaches a spindly hand to draw back the sleeve of his doublet. Flickinger torchlight gleams off the familiar metal buckles of her powder gauntlet, and she sighs before her mouth forms a tense line. At least, the effects of those aren’t unknown to her.

He glances at it before tilting his head and letting his gaze wander over to her. “Let’s start with the red one, shall we? Passion powder, I believe he called it. To incite passions.” He steps close and produces a white cloth with his other hand, covering his nose and mouth before he pumps the bellows. Once, twice.

The red powder cloys her senses, and she sputters instinctually against the invasion of dust as it coats her cheeks, the inside of her nose, the back of her throat. She draws a gasping breath and he times the third release of the bellows as she inhales. She can’t spit it out or exhale fast enough, and a searing heat takes root at the base of her spine as she draws more of the powder into her lungs. He withdraws, lowering the cloth as he studies her reaction in the fire’s shadows.

Flames lick into her blood as her heart starts to race. It’s what makes the passion powder so effective - infusing the blood with such vitality to send it surging, thrumming, pooling - often resulting in dizziness from the sudden exposure. But this… this heaving for breath, the burning ache between her legs, the pounding of her heart… is too much. Too concentrated, too much powder for her body to process. She shifts against the liquid heat gathering between her legs, and the fabric of her dress scratches her sensitive skin, pitching a needy whimper high in her throat. The swell of her breasts pull and itch against the fabric, and her shoulders twitch from the pleasurable sensations induced by the scrape of fabric as her head swims.

His lips curl with dark delight in the twisted shadows. “People forget that pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin. And all too easily people assume that pain is the only way. I hope you understand that I intend to take a different approach. For now.”

Her arms jerk against their bonds as her legs squeeze together. It’s not enough to quell the ache, to find relief, to find… something. Her body runs away with her mind under the powder’s effects, burning for relief. The rush of blood thunders in her ears, combining with her ragged breathing, but she can just make out the deep timbre of his voice.

“If I promise the relief you so crave, will you swear yourself to His Majesty’s service?”

Her mind screams out for relief as she bites her tongue. A frustrated whimper makes her lower lip quiver as she forces herself to stay silent, summoning a weak shake of her head. Nothing good will come of his words, there’s nothing that she wants from him - no matter how her hips twitch of their own volition or her shoulders shift for the pleasurable pressure against her breasts. The only relief she wants... Charles. But heaven help her if they bring Charles to her right now. Dear God, she’d swear herself to the devil or any deity that would have her if it meant having his hands on her right now.

The thought terrifies her.

Another sickening burst of bright red powder blooms in front of her face, and… goodness, she hasn’t even heard the man move. She has no defense against it, and a new burning sensation infuses her body, stretching her already overworked nerves. Her body moves against the empty air without conscious thought, chasing whatever sensations it can find. She just needs more… something there, something now.

A groan of angry frustration punches from her chest. Her head needs to be clear to hold her resolve, to not say something condemning. But her body threatens to overpower her, especially when she rolls her shoulder just so to scrape against a hardened nipple or when her thighs squeeze together just right.

Eventually, she realizes that his voice echoes in the chamber.

“... see how long it takes for you to come to your senses. For you to swear yourself a true and loyal servant of the realm. But make no mistake - mercy will only be granted once you offer your true and contrite surrender.”

***

So much. Too much. Not enough.

How long has it been? Hours? Days? Without a window, impossible to say. And the near constant darkness offers nothing to see. Not the rats scrabbling in the corners. Not the metal shackles that hold her to the wall. Not the men who come and go.

She only has feeling. Too much. Far too much. And not near enough. The perpetually cold stone against her fevered flesh. The painful drag of fabric against over-sensitized skin. The deafening roar of arousal pulsing in her blood. And no relief. No respite. No release.

She tugs against her bonds - in exhaustion, in desperation, in misery. A hiss passes her lips as harsh light spills against the cell floor without warning and the heavy door opens with a groan. Again, she futilely pulls at her shackles, trying to hide, trying to curl in on herself. But it never works. It hasn’t worked. Escape is just -

The heavy perfume of passion powder fills the air, and she can’t turn away. Can’t hold her breath. Can’t do anything but breathe it in, groaning as the latest wave of overstimulation tenses every exhausted muscle within her. The door slams shut as suddenly as it opened, and darkness returns. She doesn’t even know if the guards ask her questions anymore or if they just leave… the chaos of her thoughts eludes her.

And it frightens her. For years, her mind has been her only companion. And now? Now it abandons her. Coherent thought reduced to fragments as she fights for clarity through the unraveling of her body.

Maddening. Enraging. Merciless. This must stop. It will stop. She will stop them. Stop them all. There’s so much… too much and yet… not enough. The power is hers. In the ether. But without… down here… is the night sky so much to ask? A window?

All she needs is a storm. A big storm. But how?

When?

Her whimper echoes off the stone as she shifts on the ground, the fabric of her dress almost painful against her twitching thighs. It strengthens her course - she would. She will. And it will be the end. It will destroy.

Only then.

Another beam of blinding light slices through the darkness, and she tenses against the shackles, jerking her head away. It’s too soon, far too soon. But now… torchlight flickers off the walls, and the door closes, but she’s not alone.

“What in God’s name?” Tears burn her eyes as Charles’ heavenly voice sounds above her. “... Avian?”

She sobs audibly, lifting her head to see him standing there. Or is he merely an illusion of her shattered mind? But no - the heartbreak in his eyes is all too real, matching the dark concern that hardens the rest of his face as he strides over with anxious steps. He crouches down, and… oh, God.

His scent invades her nose - how does he smell so divine? How has she never noticed before? Something leather, spicy, and undeniably masculine. She wants to drown in it - in him. Her nerves fray to the breaking point as she gasps for breath and tears wet her lashes.

“Avian…?” His voice holds such tender affection that makes her heart ache.

She sniffles, forcing herself to summon words. “Charles… it – this…”

“What have they done to you?” His eyes mirror the concerned command that laces his gentle words.

“My… the passion powder. Again and again.” She draws a sharp breath, frustration and anger coloring every word. “And again! Every time.”

“To what end?”

She swallows hard, inhaling more of his dizzying scent. Has he always smelled so good?

Cool, strong fingers touch the heated skin under her chin, tilting her head gently up. A tear slides down her cheek at the tenderness in his sky-blue gaze. She wants to give him everything, powerless to hold anything back.

“Avian,” he implores with a low, enticing tone. “To what end? What do they want from you?”

“They -” she breaks off with a sigh, leaning into his touch. “Try to press me to enter the king’s service.”

His brow furrows. “Who? Who is pressing you?”

She shakes her head weakly. “I don’t know his name. Someone from that day…” she licks her lips, fighting for clarity. “The dark-haired one that day you brought me here.”

A dangerous glint flashes in Charles’ eyes. “Cromwell.” The lines of his face visibly tighten with a barely controlled edge of restraint. “If that man has taken undue liberties in the name of the king without official authorization, I will see him gutted at Tyburn.”

“Not if I… if I can’t…” She writhes against her bonds, body strung out and overwrought. “He can’t… this can’t – anymore.” Her words choke off on a gasping breath, groaning from the endless frustration of the itch that crawls under her skin. Eats at her. Consumes her. Drives her mad.

Maybe it already has…

“But he will,” Charles whispers firmly. “And if he does have a secret mandate from the king, then he will not cease until you swear yourself.”

“Like hell.” She snarls, twisting against his hand. “He’ll die first!”

“Die?” Charles’ voice drops to a low, conspiratorial tone. “I don’t want to see you accused of murder.”

She croakes a wicked, dry laugh. “But you… would see this man dead.”

A visible swallow works down his throat. “I need to learn if he is acting on a secret mandate from the king. That will determine everything.” His thumb strokes the underside of her chin with delicate affection as his gaze holds hers.

The simple touch surges waves of heat through her. Her breath catches on a whimper as she stares back at him. She doesn’t want him to leave. She wants to curl up in the strong, fierce protection of his embrace. Needs him to finally give her body peace. Give her so many things. Too many things. Everything.

Her eyes drop closed, focusing on the feel of his fingers against her skin. A striking point of comforting clarity through the mind numbing madness.

Will he help her? Does she only have to ask?

Again his thumb caresses her skin as he speaks. “If Cromwell is acting on his own agenda – you would… would you?” He wets his lips hesitantly, the rest of his question unvoiced.

But yes. Yes, yes, yes. To let go. To see that man pay. To be rid. To be free.

It’s worth every cost. No matter how high.

He searches her gaze, sighing a shaky, resigned sound. “How can I help?”

#charles brandon x ofc #charles brandon #duke of suffolk #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #the tudors #the tudors fanfic

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catierambles · 1 year

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Null Ch.1

Pairing: Incubus!Charles Brandon x Anna Williams (OFC)

WC 1747

Warnings: There will be themes of sex and sexuality throughout the entire story. This is a blanket warning. Minors DNI 18+ ONLY. As for this chapter, spicy dreams and non-sexual ghostly touching.

@brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @peaches1958 , @summersong69 , @henryownsme , @fvckinghenrycavill

She expected it to be cold. House this size, this old, up on a hill, having been unoccupied for as long as it has, it should be cold. It should be drafty as hell. It wasn’t. It was warm, almost comfortably so, reminding her of a hot bath or a blanket fresh from the dryer. The air was still but not stagnant, there was no smell of dust or rot, and the house itself felt…amused? Intrigued? Hard to say, but it didn’t feel empty, even though she knew it was. Anna had bought the house without ever having stepped foot inside it, having seen pictures of it online and instantly falling in love with the gothic architecture, the many beautiful windows that let the sunlight in gorgeously, and let’s be honest, its isolated location away from the town itself. She liked her privacy and seeing as her job was one hundred percent remote, she didn’t have to worry about leaving her new home unless she needed to. Then again, even groceries could be delivered these days. A bit of a shut-in? Maybe, but that was her life and she was comfortable with it.

Its price had been…surprisingly low. Almost too low and it made her wonder what was wrong with it. Mice in the attic? Termite damage? Crumbling foundation? Faulty wiring and plumbing? The real estate agent she had spoken to had assured her that none of those things were the case and the house was completely up to code and move-in ready. Why was it empty for so long then? That question had been handily ignored and while Anna found it a tad suspicious, it wasn’t enough to make her rethink her decision. Not everyone liked gothic architecture.

The town itself at the bottom of the hill was small, close-knit, an “everybody knew everybody” kind of place so her arrival was quickly noted. She stopped at the diner upon coming into town ahead of the moving trucks to grab something to eat, the waitress asking her if she was just passing through.

“No, I actually just bought a house here.” Anna said.

“Oh! Where?”

“That one on the top of the hill, The Addams Family lookin’ one.” She said and there was a pause.

“Oh.” The waitress said, her professionally jovial demeanor dampening somewhat.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No, nothing is wrong. It’s just…it’s been a while since anyone has lived there, is all.” She said, “Old superstitious stories that it’s haunted, local college kids daring each other to spend the night in it, that kind of thing.”

“Well if they try now, they’re going to get surprised that the doors and windows are actually locked, the hooligans.” She said and the waitress gave a small laugh, her demeanor returning.

“I’ll get the kitchen started on your food right away. Welcome to the town.”

“Thank you.”

The moving trucks had been pulling up right as she was in the circular driveway and she let them in, propping the front door open. Once the couch had been brought in, she sat down on it, propping her feet up on a moving box as she scrolled through her phone, answering questions from time to time on where she wanted things placed. It was a five-bedroom, three-bath kind of place, bigger than she actually needed, but with a price that low and architecture that gorgeous, she hadn’t been able to say no. Lord knew everything in her actual size range was way too expensive. Stupid seller’s market. The warmth of the place instantly put her at ease and she found herself enchanted by the way the sunlight came in through the stained glass windows, casting colors and shapes onto the dark wood floors. Pictures were one thing, seeing it in person had a whole different effect. The waitress's words about the house being supposedly haunted made absolutely no sense. It wasn’t cold or foreboding, things stereotypically associated with ghostly activity. Anna felt like the house…wanted her here, and was glad of her presence if a bit intrigued by it. Whatever, it was just a feeling. She wasn’t a medium and didn’t claim to have psychic abilities of any kind, though she was skeptically optimistic when it came to the paranormal and supernatural.

But as she sat there on the couch scrolling through her phone, she suddenly got the feeling that she wasn’t alone on it and it made her look up from the screen. Looking over, she fully expected to see someone sitting next to her, staring at her, but the couch was empty and she gave herself a little shake, turning her attention back to the screen.

“Ms. Williams?” She heard and craned her head back, seeing one of the movers standing there with a box.

“Yeah?” She asked.

“Where did you want us to put the books?”

“Uh…sorry to tell you this because I know they’re heavy, but there’s a study on the third floor if you could put them there?” She said and he gave her a quick nod. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay, Ms. Williams.” He said with a chuckle, “It’s what we get paid for.”

“Feel free to help yourselves to the case of water in the kitchen!” She said as he walked away with the box.

“Thank you!” He called back as he climbed the stairs, relaying the location to the other movers. Oddly enough, the master bedroom on the third floor had come fully furnished with a massive four-poster bed frame made of heavy wood and matching dressers and armoire. As such, she took pity on the movers and had them put the bedroom furniture from her old place in one of the other bedrooms on the ground floor, only having them carry her mattress up to the master.

It was late afternoon by the time everything was moved in and she settled up with the movers. Game plan: work from top to bottom, master bedroom, and bathroom first, then the study, and then work her way down to the kitchen. Would she stick to that plan? Probably not, but it never hurt to have one in place. They had kindly put the mattress actually on the bedframe instead of just leaning it against the wall and she sat down on it, looking around at the boxes of clothes and other bedroom items. Laying back on the bed, she covered her face with her hands and made a complaining noise, kicking her feet slightly. Her hands left her face, however, as she thought she heard a low chuckle and she looked around, but of course, the room was empty. She lay there for a little while longer and again, she felt like she wasn’t alone. There was a closeness to the feeling like someone was laying next to her on the bed, watching her and there was…something, the sensation of fingertips ghosting down her arm and she rubbed at her skin as the feeling faded.

Okay, maybe this place was haunted.

Shaking herself out of it again, she hoisted herself up and got off the bed, starting to unpack her clothes, putting them in the dresser or hanging them up in the armoire. That took only about an hour, but the study she knew would not be so quick, given the number of books she had. Thank goodness for built-in bookshelves.

Anna unpacked and organized until she felt like she was going to collapse, getting the study done and the bathroom sorted the way she liked it. It was nighttime by the time she called it quits and she thought about ordering food, but she really wasn’t that hungry. She was making the bed, the lamp on her nightstand turned on, and filling the room with a pleasant golden glow. The fitted sheet fought her, because of course it did, and when she flung the top sheet up in the air to lay it out, she thought she saw a figure through the pale fabric, illuminated by the light. Her heart pounded in her chest just once, but when the sheet fell to the mattress, there was no one there.

Okay, this place was definitely haunted. That would explain the price, then, and the agent’s steadfast refusal to say why. Whatever, as long as they stayed in their own lane and realized that she wasn’t going anywhere because of a mortgage contract, they would just be a really reclusive freeloader, and that she could handle. Lord knows she’s had worse roommates.

The warmth of the room seemed to increase a notch as she got changed into her pajamas but eased as she went into the attached bathroom to brush her teeth, and the room was just comfortable again when she came back out, going over to the bed and climbing in under the covers, turning off the light with an app on her phone, internet having been set up before she got there.

The house was quiet as she lay there, staring up at the ceiling. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and shifted slightly to get comfortable, quickly falling asleep.

Hands on her skin, soft lips capturing her own, her naked body pressed against another’s. Strong arms held her in a lover’s embrace and she could feel his breath on her neck as her hips rocked in his lap, the feeling of being filled so strong but not unfamiliar. Stubble scraped across her skin not unpleasantly and dark hair was soft under her fingers. Her dream lover was passionate, holding her close and whispering words she couldn’t make out against her skin. Friction against nerve endings pushed her closer and closer to the edge and she tumbled over it.

The strength of the orgasm is what woke her up and she lay there, feeling as she still clenched and released around nothing, her inner walls trying to massage something that wasn’t there. That was…odd. Sex dreams were incredibly rare for her, but they did happen. She knew that having one the first night after moving into a house she heavily suspected to be haunted should have given her pause, but she had never heard of a ghost doing something like that before. They mostly just tried to scare the living daylights out of occupants to get them out of “their” house, not give them intense orgasms. Closing her eyes again, she slipped back asleep, but right before she slipped completely under, she thought she felt a featherlight kiss on her temple.

#henry cavill #charles brandon #null #my writing

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rmtndew · 2 years

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Out of The Woods

Summary: A woman finds a young man collapsed outside of her cottage and nurses him back to health. But the one thing she can’t mend is his forgotten past.

Pairing: Charles Brandon and OFC Amaya

Warnings: Amnesia, illness, mentions of death, thunderstorms. Probably pretty poorly written old English? Otherwise, this is pretty fluffy stuff.

Word Count: 10,300+

A/N: This was originally intended to be for my darling @lilliannaansallafics birthday two months ago. It took a while but here it is. For you, my love!

I donned my cloak and left my cottage behind. A storm was coming. I could feel it. Could smell it in the air. There was a short time that I could walk the forest and show appreciation for what it would bring before I was being brazen and not showing the fear and respect it deserved. The forest was darkening quickly despite the early hour and I knew the storm would be bringing something more than quenching rain.

My boots trod over rotting leaves that covered the forest floor, and fallen twigs, snapping through them. The sound was buried beneath the rumbling of thunder that shook the ground below me. If there was lightning accompanying it, it was lost through the thick canopy of trees above. Walking through the woods, I kept my eyes on my surroundings but stopped when I saw elderflowers up ahead. Knowing that they didn’t grow in such dark conditions, I believed they were to serve a purpose. I plucked them and placed them into the pocket of my apron beneath my cloak. I only took as much as I would use and placed my hands reverently atop the rest and thanked them for being there.

I continued walking until the air became thick with the encroaching storm and I knew I was suddenly trespassing in the forest and it was time to take my leave. Turning back, I returned on the path to the cottage. I could feel thunder charging through the forest floor but a sound cut through the storm and I realized there was something there with me.

I stood stock still and watched as a horse burst through the thick underbrush. I gasped and stepped back, frightened by the sight of it. The forest housed many animals but horses were not one. It stopped in front of me and reared up, braying wildly. Carefully I continued to step back, allowing the creature its space. It stomped at the earth, pacing around in a spooked manner, permitting me enough time to take it in before it charged off into the woods once more. I realized it wasn’t a wild horse; it wore a bridle and reins and carried a saddle but no rider. Whether the rider had abandoned the beast or the other way around, I had no way of knowing. The horse tore off through the woods, the sound of its hooves beating against the forest, calling down louder thunder to swallow it.

I hurried along the path, intending to reach my home before the storm arrived. As I emerged into the clearing where my cottage stood, I saw a crumbled figure at my door. I rushed forward. I could tell it was a man before I reached him but once I knelt at his side, I carefully turned him over. He was beautiful. He had dark curls that clung to his forehead while stubble in the same dark brown adorned his sharp jaw. He wore no identifying apparel - simply breeches and a white blouse that was soaked and clinging to the muscles of his chest. It wasn’t raining, not yet, so I knew something else had happened. My mind flashed to the horse and I began to wonder if this mystery man had been its rider and he’d been thrown into the creek. His breath was rough and uneven, his teeth chattering. He’d been wet for far too long; he was beginning to take ill.

I opened my cottage door and not without great effort, I managed to pull the man inside. He groaned but didn’t wake. Once he was safely under my roof, I removed my cloak and boots and busied myself in order to care for him. Quickly as I could, I stoked the fire slumbering under embers and ashes back to life, reviving the flames before feeding it with more logs. Soon it was roaring, its warmth clawing out to fill the small house.

I took blankets and pillows and made a small - but hopefully comfortable - bed in front of the fire. With another bout of strength, I moved my guest near it. Before attempting to bring him atop the fabric, I removed his boots. The water that poured out onto the floor as I did served as further proof that my assumption of him being thrown into the creek was correct. I placed his boots near the fire to dry and then stripped the soaked shirt from his body. Next I moved onto his breeches, removing them respectfully as possible, leaving a wee bit of modesty to the stranger with his smallclothes. Modesty was trumped by survival.

I checked quickly for any wounds and found none on his body but there was a slight gash on the back of his head. I presumed it was from falling into the water. There was no way to know how long he’d been submerged before making his way out but a cut such as that, it didn’t seem unreasonable to believe he’d been knocked unconscious and was unable to get out for quite some time. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been soaked to the bone in cold water as he was.

His shivering intensified as sweat appeared on his brow and I knew then why I’d been given the elderflower in the forest; he had a fever.

I moved him onto the soft pallet in front of the fire and covered him with a light blanket. He needed to warm up but not overheat. Once he was where the fire could do its job, I hung a kettle of water over it and then took some of the elderflower and carefully picked the petals from the stems, placing them into a bowl. When the water began to boil, I removed it from the fire and poured it over the flowers. Letting it steep, I turned to find a bit of cloth and dipped it into a cool bucket of fresh water. I wrung the excess out and returned to my guest, kneeling by his side.

He was shaking and shivering, his teeth chattering loudly. I pressed the cool cloth to his forehead, hoping it might alleviate some of the fever’s grasp upon his brow. I dabbed at his skin, feeling the warmth of it against my other hand as I brushed his hair from his face. He still shivered but there was something of a calm that took over him as my fingertips skimmed his temple. Perhaps it was too much and not my place but I couldn’t stop myself from trying to give him a bit of peace whilst he was in my charge. So I placed my other hand on his cheek, stroking it with care the way a mother would to a child in the same position. I watched his face relax despite the fever.

By the time the rag had cooled in my hand, I knew his tea was prepared. I went to retrieve it, quickly straining the petals out before pouring it into a cup. When I returned, I watched as he began to fitfully toss his head about on the pillow. I quickly knelt by his side again, placing my hand upon his cheek.

“Shhh,” I gently soothed him. “I’m here.” He sighed and began to calm once more.

Working quickly so that he wouldn’t grow fitful again with a loss of touch, I moved, kneeling behind him, and lifted his head and shoulders to rest on my lap. With one hand I brushed my fingers through his hair, comforting him, and the other I brought the tea to his lips and gently poured it into his mouth. Despite being unconscious, his instincts took over and he swallowed. I didn’t want to overwhelm him so I went slowly, only allowing him a small sip every few minutes. It seemed to work. Between the elderflowers and the fire, his shivering ceased while the sweat on his brow became worse. The fever needed to be fed to the point of breaking but no further.

I only moved to place the empty cup on the table and to bring a bowl of water and the cloth I’d used to cool his skin back to him. It amazed me how calm he could be while I was touching him but leaving him for mere moments seemed to cause him so much distress. When I returned, I took his head back onto my lap and wiped his face and forehead with the damp cloth. As I did, I comforted him by brushing his hair back from his face and singing a song that my mother had sang to me as a child when trying to get me to sleep. It had a similar effect on him and soon it seemed that my guest was resting peacefully.

Carefully I turned his head to the side and by the light of the fireplace inspected the gash on the back. It seemed straightforward enough. I cleaned it as best I could before applying ointment gently. Beyond that, all I could do was keep watch over him.

The storm had taken over the world outside by then. The sky black as pitch except on occasion when lightning struck across it, sending shards of white and purple to break through. The rain pelted the roof and windows. The wind howled. But inside my cottage, I was safe and dry, and so was the man before me.

Night swallowed the day, though the storm left no sun for it to devour. From noonday until evening, the same black sky prevailed. I had plenty to do inside. Not just for myself but my guest as well. I continued my care, nourishing him as best as I could in his state. I was preparing for bed myself when I heard a disturbance. My guest was waking.

I pressed forward towards him. By the light of the fireplace, I could see his head raised as he looked about wildly. I could tell he was confused but more than that, he was frightened. The fear only intensified as I moved into his sight.

“Stay back, specter,” he mumbled, his voice strangled.

Pausing, I glanced at myself. My white night dress illuminated by the flames of the fireplace must have cast me in a supernatural light. To anyone waking in a strange place, I could see how I could appear as something more - or perhaps something less - than a woman.

“Have no fear. I’m not a specter,” I assured him. “You fell in the forest. You were injured. You came to my cottage.” I moved closer to him. “Do you remember?”

He shook his head weakly but the frightened look seemed to ease the closer I came to him. “I have no memory…”

“Of your fall?”

“No,” he said, his eyes locking on me. “I have no memory.”

I knelt at his bedside. “None at all?”

“Vapers. They vanish the moment I try to grasp them.”

“You took a fall and you’ve had a fever. You need rest, then perhaps your memories will return to you.” His face paled. More sweat built upon his brow. He was awake but he was far from well. “Lie back down. Sleep. Nothing will harm you here,” I said. “Tomorrow will bring us a new dawn and together we will piece together what we can.”

He let his head fall back against his pillow but his eyes continued to dart to and fro in the dark. He no longer seemed to hold any fear towards me once realizing I was not the ghostly figure he first thought I was, but there was still worry. Without thought, I reached out and stroked his hair gently as I’d done before. He didn’t pull away but he seemed surprised at any tenderness being shown to him.

“Do you know me?” he whispered.

I shook my head. “No. Only that you needed my assistance.”

“Your name?”

“Amaya.”

“Amaya,” he repeated, his voice still hoarse. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome,” I said as I smiled and brushed his hair back from his forehead once more. His skin was both chilled and damp with sweat. Being near the fire brought no warmth to it, nor color to his cheeks. “Rest.”

I began to stand but his hand darted out, reaching for mine. He held it. The skin was rough but not the way it would be should his hands belong to a worker. No farmer, no farrier, no thatcher would have hands like his. He wasn’t royalty, that much I was certain, but he was no mere commoner. I felt in his hands strength, calluses from wielding weapons perhaps, but there were no symptoms of hard work. Despite the fact that he might be a warrior, he looked at me with the eyes of a little boy as he gripped my hand weakly.

“Will you…will you tarry for a little longer? Please?”

“Of course.”

I patted his hand that held mine. Had he any strength in his body, his hold could have easily bruised me, but as it was, he was barely able to clutch it. And soon the weak hold loosened, his hand simply resting atop of mine. The cold, damp skin of his forehead was echoed in the palm of his hand.

His breathing was coarse as his tired eyes searched the dark of my cottage. I began humming to him softly the same songs I’d sung to him earlier and I watched him release the tension he held coiled in his shoulders. He sank into the fabric below him. His eyes blinked slow and heavy, closing with a soft ‘hmf’ from his lips. I watched his chest rise and fall as his breath became less labored. Sleep had come for him and had taken him somewhere that he could finally rest.

There was no more fighting within his body. His face softened and despite his sickly pallor I could see how beautiful of a man he was. Handsome and not a commoner. Once the night had passed I was sure that there would be legions of men scouring the forest looking for him. But for the night, he was in my home, safe from any harm that wished to befall him.

I woke before the sun. Dressing quickly and then quietly leaving the cottage, so as not to wake my slumbering stranger. As the sun started rising, the world outside showed the wrath of the storm that had taken its hold the day before. Trees had been uprooted or angrily rent in half by lightning. The leaves that had thickly carpeted the ground just the morning before had been washed into heaps, bloated with captured pouches of rain caught beneath them. Rivulets of water streamed through the cracks, moving the heaps and making them look as if they were breathing.

I took my bucket and ambled down to the creek, the heavy smell of decay filling my lungs. The rain had stirred it up from the leaves and underbrush that had been peacefully rotting. Once at the creek, before filling my pail with water, I examined the area. There would be no evidence of my guest or his horse left in the dirt - the weather had worked to wash it all away had there been - but I thought they might be some effect of his that could help me understand who he was. But there was nothing. No token, no possession that could be linked back to him.

Once I concluded my search of the creek, I filled my bucket and began my walk back. My ears stayed alert for the sound of men or hooves beating the ground that would alert me to the party searching for him, but I heard nothing out of the ordinary. Only a waking forest and sleeping beasts.

Upon returning, I ventured to enter the house without noise so as not to rouse my guest, but my attempts were in vain. He was awake, stretching in front of the fireplace like a cat in a warm patch of sunlight. Hearing me arrive, he turned towards me. He was only in his smallclothes still but made no attempt to hide. He had no modesty about himself, which surprised me considering I thought him to be a nobel.

I turned my head, tearing away my eyes from his nearly naked form. Though I’d seen it the night before, it had all been in the name of healing. “Good sir,” I said.

“My apologies.” His tone made him sound as if he’d only just released his state of undress. “My clothes?”

I pointed blindly. “Near the fire. They were soaked. I feared you’d catch your death in them.”

There was a rustling and shifting and sounds of fabric moving about until finally, “You can turn, my lady.”

I felt my cheeks flush with heat. “I’m not a lady, I’m afraid. Just a simple woman of the woods,” I said, turning back to look at where he stood. Seeing him dressed, save his boots, painted him in a new light. No longer did he look the sickly, worried boy he had the night before. No. He was a healthy, strapping man. I swallowed thickly. “I trust you’re feeling better?”

“Much. I’m eternally grateful for the care you’ve given me. I fear I wouldn’t have survived the night if not for your kindness.”

“I only did what any decent person would do. You were the one who found your way to my door.”

His face seemed pained in its confusion. “Did I?”

“You still don’t remember?”

He shook his head. “No. Perhaps even less so than before.”

“You need time. That is all.”

“I wouldn’t dare taint your dignity by asking to stay. Even in the woods, a maiden’s honor is sacred.”

“Maidhood is sacred but my will is strong. Should you attempt to leave before you have knowledge of where you’re going, I will hunt you down, good sir,” I teased. “I know these forests better than anyone. If you were to leave on foot, there’s nowhere you could hide that I wouldn’t find you.”

He smiled and licked his lips before shaking his head once more. “My memories may be nothing more than wisps of smoke at the moment but I feel confident that no woman has ever threatened to hunt me down should I leave them. I fear the opposite may have been far more common.”

“Let there be a first for everything,” I said. “You must be famished.”

He showed more embarrassment in his acknowledgment of being hungry than he had in his lack of clothing, a curious thought considering he showed much concern over my honor. He nodded with a bowed head. “Quite.”

“Then allow me to prepare a meal for us.”

“I should like to help. If you’d allow. To repay you as best as I could.”

“There’s no need.”

“There is to me, my lady.”

“I’m no lady, good sir,” I reminded him. “You may call me Amaya.”

“Charles,” he responded immediately, then looked bewildered at himself.

I smiled. “See Charles? Not all is lost.”

“No, it appears not.” He nodded towards the bucket of water in my hands. “May I?”

I sighed. “If you’re truly intent on being put to work, I won’t hesitate to do so.”

He smiled back. “As was my hope.” He came towards me and took the heavy bucket from me with just one hand. He ducked his head to look me more closely in the eye as he reverently bowed his head to me. “Put me to work, my lady.”

I was never one to dishonor a request and so I set him about working. I didn’t press him so far as to strain his body to make certain he was feeling up to the task, but it was most helpful to have a man about the house that could lift this thing or that with little exertion. That had not been the case since my brother had been alive.

I kept him fed but made sure he ate slowly so as not to get ill. By eventide he seemed to have gained back whatever strength he’d lost the day prior - unfortunately his memories did not follow. He still had only a shallow grasp of it, his name being the only solid thing he could remember. Despite his willingness to work and heed my beck and call, I was still convinced that he was someone of rank - whether that be a noble or a warrior. As darkness overtook the day once more, I was rather confused as to why no men had come searching for him.

Since he was my ward again for another night, I showed him to a room. “It was my brother’s,” I explained. “As were the clothes in the coffer near the window. He was near your height and near your size so should you need, you could borrow from them.”

“Was?”

“He had the sweating sickness. There was little that could be done.”

“My deepest condolences,” Charles said. “And my immense gratitude that you would allow me to take possession of his chambers for an evening. Even though he’s no longer here, I suspect you will always consider it his. I promise to tread respectfully.”

“Thank you. But please, make yourself comfortable. You’ve been a great help to me today. You deserve a proper rest.” I smiled at him. “You deserved it yesterday as well. However, I lacked the strength to bring you here.”

He returned my smile. “You saved my life so I will forgive you for not being able to bring me any further,” he joked. “Though I admit I’m rather surprised that you were able to bring me as far as you did.”

“Concern for someone’s life can certainly inspire a great bout of strength in a person.”

His smile faded, replaced by a somber expression. “Was it truly so bad? You feared for my life?”

“I couldn’t save my brother. I was not keen to see that loss play out again under this roof.”

He nodded. “Selfish though it may sound, I’m thankful that you were not subjected to that, either,” he said. “I owe you my life, my lady.”

“I’ve told you -”

“You’re not a lady, yes,” he interrupted. “But to me you are. At the risk of your own honor, you’ve allowed me to stay here, brought me back to health, and you’re now entrusting me with your late brother’s chamber. That is enough to elevate you in my eyes.”

“You are too kind. I only did what anyone would do in my place.”

“Perhaps it speaks lowly of my impression of mankind, but I do not suspect that that’s true.”

“Pity that mankind has made such an impression on you that even though you remember naught but your name, you remember your impression of them,” I said. “Though I can’t say I disagree. My mother and father had their own reasons for building their cottage here in the woods where their neighbors were only the rooks and foxes.”

“Do you ever get lonely out here on your own?”

“Rarely. I’m not one who minds their own company. But I admit…it’s been exceedingly lovely to have someone to talk to who can answer me back.”

He smiled. “The moment the rooks start answering you is perhaps the moment you’ll decide to leave here?”

I laughed and nodded. “I do think that would be an apt sign for me to take my leave, yes,” I agreed. “But until then, I’m quite comfortable here.” I looked up at him. “And I hope that you are also comfortable here.”

“I am. Thank you.”

“Then I will bid you goodnight, Charles.”

He bowed his head. “Goodnight, Amaya.”

The disturbances I was used to at night were nothing more than the howling of a wolf or wind. That night it was a howl of another sort. I woke to the sound of a man calling out. My mind still had a foot in sleep and thought it was Father or my brother. The harsh reality of their deaths came to me before I could fully wake so I knew with great heartache that they were gone and the sound wasn’t from them but it was a moment too long before realizing who it was: Charles.

There were few words spoken. It was an anguished cry that tore through the night. The moon gave enough light through the window to lead me from my room to his. I should have knocked. I knew it was inappropriate to cast myself into the room of a man with no relation to me and no invitation that I might enter, but the sounds of his sobbing forced me apart from all decorum as I sought to assuage whatever was causing him pain.

Upon entering the room, I saw that Charles, despite his cries, was asleep. He tossed his head fitfully as he had the night before when his fever was upon him but I could see that this was no illness that had taken hold; it was his own mind.

I rushed to his bedside and shook his shoulder gently. It took very little of my touch for him to wake. His eyes were wide, his breath panting. It seemed for a moment as if he was still seeing whatever visions had haunted his dreams but when I placed my hand upon his cheek, he stilled instantly.

“Who’s there?” he whispered, his voice not so strong or certain as it had been during the day.

“Amaya.”

He released a shaking breath. “What happened?”

“You had a night terror.”

He was silent for a moment, save for his attempts to calm his breathing. He succeeded very little as it continued to waver. “There was a battle. So much blood and screaming. And children…I can still hear them,” he admitted.

“Were you part of the battle?”

“I don’t know. I can’t…I can’t remember.” I could hear the frustration in his voice and I stroked his cheek gently, feeling him soften under my touch. His eyes found mine in the dark. “I feel as if I was somehow responsible for their screams but I don’t understand how that could be. I have no desire in my heart to harm anyone. Especially not a child. And yet…I can’t shake the feeling.”

“The responsibility we take on ourselves is not always born of truth. My brother, rest his soul, would have died no matter what. But I felt responsible for his death all the same. As if my lack of knowledge on how to care for him was what claimed his life and not the sickness itself. Had I known any cures, it would have just prolonged his death, not saved him entirely,” I said. “You have no memories. Only a name and the shadowy horrors of a battleground. Do not be so quick to take responsibility and guilt upon yourself because of a feeling. Not one that was born through a night terror.”

“But what if it was only a terror because it was true?” he asked. “What if I caused harm to those children I heard? What if I slaughtered them?” His eyes squeezed shut. “If that is the type of man I was then I don’t want to ever remember that life.”

“If that was the type of man you were then the only way to reconcile it is to become a different man now.” My thumb brushed against the stubble of his cheek and he looked at me once again. “Charles, no one is fated to be good or evil. It is a choice that we all make. Some early on, some every day, but it is a choice nonetheless. You are not beyond redemption.”

“Do you believe that? That I could still be redeemed if I did those things?”

“I do. Because that is not the man you’ve shown me to be today.”

He turned his head, looking out the window into the night. “How much longer before dawn?”

“I’m unsure. I suspect several more hours, though.” My hand slipped from his cheek and I desired to touch him once again. I knew it was wrong but I had been without another soul in my presence for so long that I had nearly forgotten how the touch of a person felt. “Go back to sleep. Rest.”

“I know I’ve asked far too much of you already but…would you remain here for a moment longer?”

“Of course.”

And so began a ritual. Almost every evening for two fortnights, Charles would have night terrors. I would go to him and rouse him from his sleep, then stay with him until he was able to rest enough to sleep again. In the daylight, his memories were still misty and shadowed but something about the night brought about recollections of the battles he’d fought in. I wasn’t surprised. I’d known he was a warrior by his hands. But I was surprised that someone so tender-hearted could hold their own in a war.

It became all too easy to forget society's rules with him there. We became accustomed to one another and it no longer felt as if his remaining in my home was putting my honor in question or in danger. And my presence in his chambers (and they had become his; releasing my brother’s ghost from its confines) never seemed inappropriate. The world beyond us and their customs were quickly forgotten as we became friends. Though I had told him true when I had said that I didn’t mind my own company, there was something to be said of having a companion. And that’s what he had become: a companion of the greatest sort.

The one subject I never dared broach with him was the one that plagued me the most: Why no one had come searching for him. I held in my heart the belief that he was someone who would not escape notice. If not in the military - for which he was most definitely a part of - then by some other person. He was handsome, and kind, and funny. But he never spoke of a wife or a betrothed. I understood that his memories were not returning swiftly but I had hoped that if there was someone he truly cared for, their memories would find a way to rise from the bottom of the pit his mind seemed to have been thrown in. However, that did not seem to be the case.

Everything about Charles had been unexpected. I’d lived my life in solitude after my brother had passed some three years previous, and we’d been orphaned for four years at the time of his passing, and had no expectations of a storm bringing a man to my door. But he was there and he was kind and though I enjoyed his companionship, it was laced with melancholy. I knew he was not mine - not my kin, not my husband, not my Lord - and therefore would have to forfeit him once his memories returned. And I felt a great swell of sadness at that prospect. I both wished for his sake that he would remember his life and for my own selfish reasonings that he would not. For if he never remembered, I could always keep him.

I felt guilty for my line of thinking and decided to take a walk through the forest to clear my head. After donning my cloak, I emerged from the cottage only to be greeted by the sight of Charles wielding an axe as he split wood for the fire. I stopped short, my feet halting on the threshold of the door as I watched him. I’d known he was a stout and strong man but I hadn’t quite seen the full scope of his strength before that moment.

His white shirt was tucked into his breeches and I could see the movement in his back and shoulders as he brought the axe down and split the log of wood clean in two. He repeated the same motions until there were four equal pieces of wood, which he stacked on top of the pile outside my home. I had cut the lumber it sat upon, I knew how difficult it was to cleave them in two, and yet as he placed another log atop the block, he cut through it with no resistance. I was at once both grateful for his strength and equal parts mesmerized by it.

My breathing seemed to quicken as I watched him and I knew it was time to take my leave. I gave my best effort not to make a sound, to measure the closing of the door with the chopping of the wood, but before I could take more than a few steps away from the cottage, Charles turned and spotted me.

He smiled. That lovely smile of his. The one I’d come to adore so. “Are you sneaking off?” he teased.

“No, sir. Only going for a walk. I didn’t mean to disrupt you.”

His smile grew. “You could never disrupt me, my lady. Shall I accompany you?”

“Please do not feel obligated to do so.”

“I’d be more than happy to.” He stuck the blade of the axe into the top of the log that was on the block before him. “The forest can be dangerous. Full of unseen perils.”

“I might find it in me to disagree considering I’ve known these woods nearly my whole life, however…you came to me from the forest and so I must yield the win to you on this matter.”

“Do you think me dangerous?” he asked, his smile showing the sharp fangs of his teeth.

“Frightfully so, sir,” I said, returning his smile with my own.

He left the chopping block and joined me at my side. “Have no fear, I intend to do no harm to you. You saved my life and for that, I swear my fealty to you. I pledge myself as your protector. No foul beast will sink his claws into you this day,” he said, barely restraining a laugh at himself.

I found my cheeks heating as I looked up into his clear blue eyes. My heart already felt as if it could be torn from my chest at the mere thought of him leaving and we’d only been acquainted for such a short amount of time. I’d had two young men show their interest in taking my hand in marriage when I had lived in a village when I was younger. But none had ever been serious with their prospects. The parting of ways with them - potential husbands - hadn’t hurt so much as the hint of losing Charles did.

“Then may I never lose your protection, good sir,” I said softly, hoping he did not understand the full extent of my meaning.

The forest was alive that morning with sounds and the sweet smell of earth. But as the morning wore on, a thick, white fog began settling down amongst the trees, rolling towards us. I saw no issue in continuing on but Charles was not so keen.

He stopped at my side and turned to look at me. “I think we should return.”

“Are you afraid of fog?”

He licked his lips and sighed. “I’m afraid we’ll lose the path should it get any worse.”

I took a step forward. “I’ve told you before - I know these woods. We will be safe.”

His hand shot out and took hold of my arm. “You know these woods. Not I. Lord forbid, but should something happen, I could not find my way back to your cottage. My tone earlier might have wrongly inferred that I was jesting when I said I would protect you but I truly meant it. I have no desire to see danger befall you,” he said. He looked at me, his eyes full of earnestness. “I beg of you, Amaya. Please.”

Truth be told, the warmth that spread across my skin at his hand touching my arm, the look in his eyes, the way I wanted something more from him than I would ever receive, I felt safer there taking my chance in the woods and nearly sent him back on his own. But I could not do that to him.

“Because you cannot fight the fog and protect me from it, I’ll concede in this one instance,” I said, attempting to make light of the feelings inside me. “We will return.” We turned around but the path had grown covered by the fog and soon Charles stumbled beside me as he tried to follow. I stopped and looked up at him yet again before extending my arm towards him. “Here. Take my hand.”

He looked confounded. “I beg your pardon?”

“My hand, good sir, take it and allow me to lead you back into the clearing.”

“I have no need.”

I tried not to take the slight to heart. I was sure he didn’t mean to appear to turn down the touch of my hand. He was a man; I assumed he didn’t want to seem as if he needed to be led by a woman. But regardless of his intentions, it hurt all the same.

“Put pride aside for a moment and think of your own argument: Should something happen to me, you could not find your way back. However, if something were to happen to you, I lack the strength to carry you home. I conceded. Would it be so terrible if you were to do the same?” I asked but he did not take my hand. I withdrew it. “Taking my hand would mean nothing except the recognition that you do not know these trails quite so well as I. But if you do not wish to take it, then by all means, watch your footing and pray that you do not take a tumble.” I began walking once more, leaving him behind me.

It did not take long for him to catch up. “Amaya, please,” he said. “If I’ve offended you somehow, I apologize.”

“You have caused no offense,” I said, though there was still hurt in my voice.

“I do not believe you,” he said, trailing behind me.

“You think I am a lair?” I asked, turning to look at him.

He halted his walking but not quite soon enough. He bumped into me. I waited for him to take a step back, to right his stance, but he did nothing of the sort. His face was softened as he brought it down close to mine. “My lady, I do not think you are a liar. I think you are trying to keep peace. There is a great difference,” he said. “You are offended that I wouldn’t take your hand. Why?”

“It’s of no importance.”

“It is to me,” he said. I did not speak and he sighed. “To think I have hurt you pains me. Please, Amaya, tell me what I’ve done.”

No words were able to leave me before a great gust of wind blew around me, rustling my cloak. The wind did not touch Charles and I knew it was a warning. My eyes cut through the woods around us, searching wildly for any sign of danger, however the fog was too thick. But then a thundering could be heard in the forest. Charles heard it as well. His head snapped to the side. In only moments, a horse emerged from the woods, appearing on the path beside us.

“Halt. Who goes there?” he barked the rider.

I opened my mouth to speak but Charles leveled a heavy glance at me before turning towards the stranger. “We are mere commoners, my lord,” Charles answered for us. “Attempting to retire to our home before the path is overtaken by fog.”

The rider looked down at Charles, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized his face. All at once, a realization dawned across his features. “Your Grace. My sincerest apologies, I did not realize it was you. You were thought missing.”

“Explain yourself,” Charles demanded. His tone betrayed a part of him that he had never shown to me: an air of authority that he held so strongly that he dared question a person of rank.

“You are Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, yes? The King declared you missing a month ago when your steed returned from an early morning ride but you did not.”

I kept my head bowed and my eyes down, not daring to give the rider any opportunity to chastise me. But my mind swam with thoughts of my dear Charles, my companion, being a Duke. It didn’t seem possible and yet I was under no impression that coincidence could be so strong.

“I’m afraid you are mistaken, my lord. I am no Duke. My name is Arthur,” he lied. “And this…this is my wife, Amaya.”

The horse trotted backwards, as if spooked. “You are not the Duke of Suffolk?”

Charles shook his head. “No, my lord.”

The rider was silent for a long moment, his horse not happy with the air around us as he huffed. “Your home, is it far from here?”

“It’s difficult to make out the distance in the fog but it should not be too far away, my lord,” Charles answered.

“Take me to it. A storm is coming. I will ride it out under your roof.”

Denying his request was not possible. We had to bring him to the cottage. I did not like the thought of it. Did not like the ruse that Charles had conjured of him being called Arthur and he and I being married. If the truth were to come out, if I made a slip of the tongue, I could put us both in great peril.

I had to lead the way home slowly so that Charles would be able to stay by my side and it would appear that he was leading and not I. Once there, Charles tethered the horse under a covering where it would be safe during the storm and I led our guest into the house. Though we were only together for mere moments before Charles joined us, I felt greatly uncomfortable being alone with him. It was a feeling I’d never felt with Charles before.

The morning passed and I barely spoke to our guest. I fed him, provided everything that he needed, but stayed silent unless spoken to. I had never need worry about holding my tongue while in my own home. Even as a child, my parents had let me speak freely. And yet that day I felt more a stranger in my house than its owner. The rider had no qualms with demanding what he liked and I was ever so grateful to Charles who kept him occupied with conversation and ale, and as the day wore on, with cards. I prayed for the raging tempest to break and feared it wasn’t meant to be, but finally it traversed beyond us, revealing that the sun was still nigh, leaving enough daylight for the rider to travel by. Though I was filled with unease as Charles readied his horse, I did my duty as a gracious host and paid my respects as we saw him off. Seeing him disappear into the forest did not fill me with the relief I thought it might. Charles seemed to have noticed my apprehension.

He turned to me. “He won’t harm you. I would never allow it,” he said. “Forgive me for including you in my deceit towards him. However, my intentions of calling you my wife were to shield you from his attention, should he have been dishonorable.”

“There’s naught to be forgiven. You were protecting me and for that I am grateful, your Grace.”

His brow pulled together. “Why are you calling me that?”

“Because that is who you are.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Do you believe that there are two men who share your same name and countenance?” I asked. “You know as well as I that the chances of that are small. You must be who he spoke of.”

“Must I?”

He looked so pained and yet I could not understand why. “You have struggled to gain any of your memories back and here was a man who knows who you are. Why would you fight that?”

“Because if I am who he says…I would need to take my leave of you,” he admitted. “I do not want that.”

“You cannot expect me to believe that you would rather live here -” I spread my arms wide, indicating to the trees and mud and muck around us - “in the middle of the forest, heeding my beck and call as I put you to work when you could live freely in your life as a Duke, with servants that you order about instead.”

“And yet…that is what I am telling you.”

“I think you are overwhelmed by the prospects of what your life holds beyond your memories of war,” I told him, turning towards the cottage. “Once you remember fully, you will want to go back, your Grace.”

He heaved a sigh. “Please, do not call me that,” he begged. “I am not your Grace, I am your Charles.”

“My Charles? You make it sound as if I’ve laid a claim to you,” I said, turning back to face him.

“You have not but that has not stopped me from wishing it so.”

My breath caught in my lungs as an ache built deep in my chest. I shook my head. “You do not know what you are saying.”

He strode over to me. He paused only a moment before he reached out his hand and slowly brought it to my cheek. Though I had comforted him many times with the same gesture, it had never been returned and feeling it in that moment was almost tear-inducing. “I would swear the rest of my life to living in the honor of your servitude, if you would allow me.”

My heart felt gripped by a hand of fear. “Is that all that you wish to do? Be in my servitude?” I whispered, tears finally taking over my sight.

He shook his head. “No. I would serve you. I would heed your every order with a full heart if that is all I was permitted to do. But it is far from all that I desire.”

“And what do you desire?”

“You.” Charles held my face still while he brought his near to mine. I closed my eyes, tears trapped along my lashes, as I felt his forehead rest against my own. “Throw me out,” he whispered. “Leave me to the woods and wolves. Do whatever you want with me. But it must be known here and now that I love you.”

“And what if you have another love?” I asked, tears breaking free from my eyes. “Would you wish to break my heart once you remember her?”

“No. I never wish for you to be hurt, but especially not of my own design.”

“Then please, do not say these things to me.”

I broke free from him and took a step back, attempting to stall any further crying. He followed, taking my hands in his. “The first thing I remembered outside of the battles that have haunted my sleep was the day I came to you,” he said. “Though it’s clearer now, it first returned to me as a memory of unending sadness. A loneliness that had settled down in my bones. I remember traveling into the woods with no intent to come back. What happened during the wars I fought in, it weighed my soul down. I remember thinking it would never be recovered. I entered the forest with an intention to die but in all regards, you saved my life.”

He brought my hands to his mouth and kissed them reverently. “You…you who have not known me, who have sworn no loyalty to me, have given me greater comfort than I believe my heart has ever been given. Please…please, I beg of you, do not curse me for being unable to hide my affections for you any longer.”

“My dear Charles…” I shook my head as tears that I fought against in vain spilled down my cheeks. “I do not wish to curse you for anything,” I said softly. “But especially not for love. And especially not for one I share with you.” I took a quivering breath. “In the woods this morning, I was not offended that you would not take my hand. I was wounded. It felt as if you were not rejecting my offer and instead were rejecting me.”

“Oh, my darling, no.”

My tears increased. “Please, do not call me your darling. For there will come a time when I cannot keep you, when you will leave me, and I will be unable to bear the loss of you as a companion. If I were to accept your declaration towards me, or to acknowledge my feelings towards you…I fear the loneliness you spoke of would infiltrate my soul and settle into my bones as well the moment you depart from me. And I do not know that I would be strong enough to dispel it.”

“You may always keep me,” he said. “I am yours. I vow myself to you.”

“You vow yourself to me as one who does not know his whole worth,” I said. “You are a Duke, Charles. This changes everything.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because a Duke may fall in love with a peasant but he does not marry one. A Duke does not give up a title and an estate to live by the work of his own hands in a hovel in the woods. My Grace, you have a great many opportunity to marry someone of nobility and wealth. Someone who will bear your children and, should the Lord allow, sons who will carry on your name and bloodline for generations to come.” I shook my head. “You will not give that up. Not for this. Not for me. Nor should you.”

“I have already turned my back on it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Forgive me for my many sins,” he murmured softly. “I did not intend to deceive you, my lady, but my memories, though slow to return, have made themselves known to me.” His eyes searched mine. “I did not keep it from you to take advantage of your kindness but because as you said; I could not bear the loss of you as a companion.”

“You…you have known that you were a Duke?”

He nodded, then bowed his head solemnly. “I did not keep it from you with ill intention. I swear it.”

“When did you remember?”

“A fortnight ago.”

“A fortni-” I wretched my hands free from his. “Why would you hide that? What reason do you have for keeping something so gravely important as that from me?” I asked. “Have I not proven myself trustworthy to you?”

“Please, that’s not it at all,” he said, his eyes desperate as he reached for my hands once again. I kept them resolutely at my sides. “You are the most trustworthy person I have ever known. You are kind and gentle and pure of heart. Amaya, this is naught to do with you.”

“Then why? Why would you not tell me before now?”

“Because I thought if I did not acknowledge it, I would never have to face it and return to my life!” He shook his head. “I do not want a world full of politics and war. I do not want to face another battle. But as long as I am living my life as the Duke of Suffolk, I am at Henry’s command. And if the King commands me to slaughter innocents once more…” His face betrayed the broken man he was inside, his eyes brimming with tears. “My soul could not bear it,” he admitted with a trembling lip. “You told me that you believed I was not beyond redemption and I wish that to be true, but…I do not know if I could ever be forgiven for the atrocities that I have committed.”

Before I could speak, he fell to his knees, sinking into the mud at my feet. He began sobbing, suddenly taking on the form of a crying child as he had the first night he was brought into my home. My heart broke for him. He had kept his identity a secret from me but as I watched him, I knew it was without malice.

“I cannot absolve you of any sins. It is not in my power to do so. But I truly believe that you are a good man, your Grace,” I said, tears of my own still falling. “I understand the desire to run from what you once were, my parents sought the same here in the woods, and so I will never judge you for clinging to what small bit of salvation you have also found here. And though I may not be able to absolve you, I can give you a place where you can seek your redemption.” I brought my hand to his forehead, running my fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. “You may seek it under my roof and should you like…by my side.”

Charles pressed his face into my abdomen as his arms encircled my waist. He clung to me as he sobbed into my apron. I held him as best as I could, cradling his head as I bent to press a kiss to his crown.

I knew it was treason to even think such a thing but I determined in my heart right then that the King would never have command of Charles again. He was mine.

The days passed and, though I feared he might, the rider never returned. The forest had a way of becoming difficult to navigate if it did not want you in its depths. One morning I decided to venture out to show my gratitude for protecting us and on my return home, I was surprised to find Charles on the path.

I paused for a moment and pressed my hand to a tree. “You like him,” I accused in a whisper. A soft wind blew at my face and I smiled, then patted the tree bark. “I like him, too.” I turned from the tree and began walking towards him. “Are you not afraid of getting lost?”

He smiled. “No, my love. I could hear you humming and it called to me.” My accusations were true; the forest did like him. There was no other explanation for the wind carrying my voice so far for Charles to hear. “Although perhaps you journeyed out here to take your leave from me and I should not have followed,” he teased.

I smiled as we closed the distance between us. “No, good sir, I was not taking my leave from you,” I said, halting in front of him and looking up at his face. “I was simply thanking the woods.”

“Thanking them?”

“Yes. I owe them a great many things. They brought you to my door, did they not?”

He nodded. “Yes, my lady, I believe they did,” he said, licking his lips. “So perhaps it’s most pertinent for me to ask you a question that has been pressed upon my mind for quite some time now right where we are.”

“Of course. You may ask anything of me.”

He took a deep breath and let it out before his eyes found mine. “I love you. With all my heart and with every ounce of my being. And I swear with all my soul to everything honest and good in this world and the next that I will always love you,” he said. “I vow here and now that I will care for you, provide for you and protect you for the rest of my days. Ever faithful. Ever true.”

My cheeks flushed with heat at his words and I waited for more but there was nothing added. “I’m greatly flattered, my dear Charles, however…that was not a question,” I said. “Unless your question was if I feel the same. In which case, the answer is yes.”

He smiled and shook his head. “That was not the question, though I daresay I hope the answer is the same to the one I pose to you.” He took another deep breath. “Amaya…will you marry me?”

My breath caught in my throat as my heart sped up. But I did not hesitate. “Yes,” I answered quickly.

He released a breath of great relief as happiness shone plainly in his eyes. “Yes?” he repeated. I nodded. “Marry me now?”

“Now? With whom to wed us?”

“We will have a handfasting ceremony and exchange vows in the presence of God. In His eyes, we will be husband and wife.”

“I do not know the vows.”

“I do. I will guide you through them.”

“With the trees as witness?” I jested softly.

He laughed. “The forest is alive to you, is it not?” he asked. “Therefore, they would make a living witness, yes?”

“Perhaps,” I conceded. “Though I mean them no slight, I do not wish to be married in the woods. I would prefer a small bit of civility and should like to exchange vows in our home.”

“As it pleases you, my lady.”

My heart thundered loudly in my ears as we returned to the cottage together. Once inside, Charles carefully took my cloak from me and I put away my apron. I wondered aloud what we should bind our hands with and he procured a leather cording from his chambers. We stood in front of the fire and faced one another.

“Are you sure you want me?” he asked.

“I’ve wanted to keep you far longer than it has been decent for me to do so,” I said. “Now I shall have a rightful claim to you.”

“And I to you.” He smiled then took my right hand and clasped it lovingly in his. Then, with his other hand, he held the leather above our hands. “And now the vows: Will you honor and respect one another and seek to never break that honor?” he quoted, then looked at me. “I will.”

“I will,” I agreed.

“And so the first binding is made.” He draped the cording over our hands and brought it around, securing them together loosely. “Will you share each other’s pain and seek to ease it? Will you share the burdens of each so that your spirits may grow in union?”

“I will.”

“As you have already proven to me, my love,” he whispered. “And I vow to do the same.”

“You have as well,” I assured him.

“And so the second binding is made.” He wrapped the cord around our hands, lacing them together. “Will you share in each other's laughter, and look for the brightness in life and the positive in each other?” He smiled his beautiful smile at me as his eyes shone. “It would be my life’s honor and thus, I will.”

“As will I.”

“And so the binding is made,” he said, then bound our wrists to one another with the last of the cording. “As our hands are bound together now, so our lives and spirits are joined in a union of love and trust. Therefore, I Charles take thee Amaya to be my wedded wife, till death us depart, and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

“I Amaya take thee Charles to be my wedded husband, to death us depart, and thereto I plight thee my troth,” I said, repeating after him.

His smile widened. “Now you are mine as I am yours. But first…we must seal the commitment with a kiss.”

“A kiss?” I breathed, my chest feeling tight in such an odd and unfamiliar way.

He brought his free hand to my cheek. His thumb brushed softly against my skin, causing me to inhale sharply, then passed it along my bottom lip. “Have you shared one before?”

“Long ago. When I lived in the village. A boy…”

“Boys do not know how to kiss.”

“They don’t?”

He shook his head as he brought his closer to mine. “No. They only care for themselves.” He kissed the apple of my cheek and my eyes slid closed of their own volition. “They take no care in pleasing others.” He softly kissed the other cheek. “They do not understand that pleasing a woman is where your true pleasure lies,” he spoke, his lips close enough to my own that I could feel them moving.

“It is?” I asked breathlessly.

“It is.”

His lips pressed against mine and they moved slowly against my own as he brought his hand to my neck. His thumb stroked my skin as he held my face so that he could continue his ministrations. The boy I’d kissed as a girl had tasted like winter. Cold and hard and unyielding. But Charles tasted of spring. Warm and soft, his mouth blooming open to caress the petals of my lips with his own. His kiss held a promise of more to come.

Our right hands were still united but I gripped him with my left, attempting to stay upright. When he pulled away, he did so gently, like a warm breeze. My eyes blinked open lazily to see his smiling face before he kissed the tip of my nose.

“Better than a boy in the village?” he asked quietly, still smiling.

It took me a long moment to understand the question but eventually I nodded. “Much,” I said. “Now that I know how it should feel, I daresay what he did was not even a kiss.”

“And so I am your first?” he said, his smile ever growing.

“And so you are, husband.”

He pressed forward and kissed me once more, soft and sweet. “I have a great deal more to share with you, wife.”

“Then let us begin.”

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Charles Brandon #Charles Brandon fan fiction #The Tudors #The Tudors fan fiction #Duke of Suffolk fan fiction #Out of The Woods

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