#prince x commoner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loserlovesattention · 1 year

Text

Blood of Fire Chapter Two Jacaerys Velaryon x Servant Reader

Summary: The day had been long and hard and lonely... So when the princes asked for a princess, how could you refuse?

Warnings: None

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Reader

Chapter Two

The following weeks were a whirlwind of lessons, duties and exploring. All the excitement made you practically devour all your food when you ate, and rush through the corridors to get to your next activity. This rambunctious behavior earned you more than a few scoldings and extra chores. You couldn't help it- there was so much at Dragonstone to do and see and learn!

“Ladies do not run in the halls, scarf down their food like savages and especially squirm while standing!” Lady Jeyne lectured you.

“I'm sorry, my legs hurt!” You whined. “How much longer must I do this?”

“You will do this all night if you continue to shake!”

She must have seen the tears welling up in your eyes at her outburst. Her voice softened.

“Y/N, when you become an attendant, you are expected to stand for long hours at a time. How do you think it would make the princess feel to have her servants lounging around, while she must be on her feet all day?”

You nodded at that, desperately trying to blink away the tears that gathered in your eyes.

“Remember; keep your shoulders back.”

Shoulders back, stomach in and chin high, you thought.

“Don’t lock your knees! Standing at attention does not make you a statue, you must relax!”

You exhaled the breath you were holding, urging your muscles to release.

“Better, much better.”

Many minutes must have passed; when you glanced out of the window yet again, you found the sun had moved to setting over the horizon.

“Let us continue this tomorrow, you are dismissed.” Lady Jeyne relented.

You curtsied before you made your leave, anxious with anticipation.

You learned quickly that evenings were the best time of day. By then everyone's day time activities were winding down and a majority of the household had about an hour's worth of downtime. Some of the gentlemen ushers and stablehands would play cards in the servants cookhouse. A couple of washerwomen would attend the sept to pray. A majority of the maids returned to the maiden's chamber to sow and gossip. Even the Maester would emerge from his cell to keep long important discussions with Lady Jeyne. Your mother often enjoyed long walks around the castle with the older ladies, talking about nothing and everything.

Helyn and you found such activities tedious, forced to make your own sources of entertainment. On bleak rainy days, the two of you would find an unoccupied window seat to play with the few toys you possessed. Other days, the two of you played tag or hide and seek in the deep caverns located beneath the castle. But on clear sunny evenings such as this one, there was nothing more you loved best than climbing up to the rookery to watch the dragons.

Ever since the royal families' arrival, the dragons they owned had been kept in the pits just below the keep. And on glorious days like today, they were released to roam the island as much as they pleased. To lure the beasts back, the dragon keepers would leave out freshly slaughtered cows or goats-sometimes even live ones.

It was exhilarating to see the sun gleam off their scales as they ascended into the air. Even from a distance, you could feel the gusts of wind from their wings when they flew past. The orange light from their blasts of flame seemed to fill you with an overwhelming, powerful sensation, which you had never felt before.

When the dragons roughhoused, they would shriek boisterously- the large gold one especially. The smaller ones often fled from the fighting to perch on the lower roofs of the castle, or catnap in one of the courtyards.

From time to time either the prince or the princess would emerge to saddle their dragons themselves and vanish into the clouds.

Never together, you noticed. Well, mother had once told you married couples should spend some time apart. Otherwise they may tire of each other's presence. Perhaps dragonriding was something the two used to have some private time?

As of late, the two oldest princes have been spending more time training their own dragons. The younger commanded the smaller pale one, crested with crimson. While the elder commanded the larger green one, whose wings shined like bronze.

“Why don’t they ride them?” You wondered once. “If I had my own dragon, I would do nothing but spend all my days flying!”

“I don’t think they’re big enough to ride.” Helyn answered. “You have to wait until they can support your weight or else you may crush them.”

However, you were in no mood to visit the rookery today. Helyn had come down with a chill and was sentenced to bed rest, at least until the fever abated. Going alone just wouldn’t be the same.

Where have I not explored yet? You pondered.

A majority of your lessons took place in the unused chambers inside The Stone Drum-the massive tower on the West side of the fortress. It was fascinating to go there on stormy nights, to listen to the roaring waves and howling winds. Occasionally lightning would light the room bright as day, before the whole tower shook with thunder.

“You mustn't fear the storm Y/N,” You would remember, “Do you know where storms come from?” Storms are gifts from the Gods; to make us brave and strong. Sometimes you even liked to close your eyes and feel the vibrations all around you. This is what being inside a dragon must feel like…

Of course you had seen some parts of The Sea Dragon Tower, where the rookery was kept. But you were forbidden to enter The Maesters Chambers there, as well as The Royal Apartments where the princess resided. Helyn had taken you to the Tower Cells there once, only to find it empty and unmanned. Of course that hadn’t stopped you from playing jailor and prisoner there.

“Aegon's Garden is just outside The Windwym Tower,” Helyn had explained. “You can only get there through a long corridor called The Dragon's Tail. I’ll take you there when the weathers good enough.” Why wasn’t the weather good enough today? As far as you could tell today had been the warmest day of the year!

“Pardon me,” You asked one of the passing footmen. “I am still new to this keep. Could you please tell me where I may find The Dragon's Tail?” You made sure to bat your lashes at the end of your question. All the adults around here were fond of children, and practically bent over backwards when you played innocent.

“Of course, it is down these stairs, across the gallery and to your left.” He said, pointing.

“Thank you!” You bowed low, before scurrying away.

There were many levels inside Dragonstone, each with their own purpose and stories. Some parts held broad stone arches and columns. Others contained statues of basilisks, demons, griffins, hellhounds, manticores, and wyverns. To the most grand and ancient rooms, you found their doors set inside the mouths of stone dragons. Even the torches throughout the corridors and halls were held in dragon's claws. Very often you found yourself gazing at all the details embedded around you; lost in a world of wonder.

It’s all like a dream from which I hope never to wake!

Even The Dragon's Tail was furnished in the grandest manner; with rich tapestries and detailed oil paintings adorning the walls. In the very center on the left hand side hung the largest painting of all: a family portrait.

In the middle stood a tall, robust man with a square jaw, short pale blonde hair and a matching close cropped beard. He wore a richly colored velvet doublet, a matching cape and a steel circlet studded with large square shaped rubies. On his left side was a slightly older woman, with the same pale blonde hair piled in braids atop her head. Shockingly, she wore mans mail with a grand three headed dragon on the chest. She even clutched a sword like the man beside her, albeit a lighter more feminine sword to fit her smaller frame. Lounging in a chair on the other side was a more girlish, gentle beauty. Again, the same pale hair but she wore it long in curls cascading down her chest. Her silk dress hugged her curvaceous body lewdly, fine stacks of bracelets adorned her wrists, and around her neck she wore a string of the largest diamonds you had ever seen.

the conquerors, you knew instinctively. King Aegon and his sister queens: Visenya and… Rhaena? Rhaenys? You racked your brain to remember, but couldn’t find a clear answer.

As a child you loved playing Visenya in your games with the other children. Often getting into trouble for playing too hard, whacking so forcefully with your pitiful tree branch; imagining it to be a sword.

“Visenya was not like most women,” Mother used to tell you. “She was a great warrior, maybe even greater than her brother. She even wielded a Valyrian steel sword called…”

What had her sword been called? What was the name of the dragon she rode? It all seemed so distant now. It felt shameful- once you knew every detail about your idol, and now that you were face to face with her you couldn't recall a thing.

You gazed longfully at the painting one last time before you departed.

I wish I was born sooner, when you lived here. Would you have noticed me? Would we have been able to be friends?

Aegon's Garden looked nothing like how you expected. In all your fantasies, castle gardens were full of fountains, marble statues, large luscious trees and flowers that bloomed in the most vivid colors.

This garden was sparse and dark. There were no fountains or statues to be found. The trees were tall thin pines that casted long shadows. There was a cobblestone pathway, but instead of being lined with posies, it was smudged between towering thorny hedges.

It was no pretty paradise that reminded you of peaceful meadows. No, this reminded you of the scary stories your father would tell, of deep dark woods that hid wolves, bears and wild cats. It was fitting for Dragonstone, you supposed. An equally dark, strange and exotic place.

Cautiously, you followed the path deeper into the garden. This was a castle after all, surrounded by strong high walls; you had no wolves, bears or cats to fear here! The path winded left and right, between a mixture of pines, shrubs and thorn bushes before emerging onto a clearing. In the center of the clearing there appeared to be a small pond beneath a looming black dragon, which appeared to be carved from pure volcanic stone.

You kept your eyes on it as you moved closer. Was it volcanic rock? It was so black and shiny it must be-

“Ouch!”

You failed to notice the boot sticking out from under one of the bushes and fell sideways into the grass.

As soon as you did notice it, you reached forward to pull back a branch, revealing the person lying there. Who in the world hides inside a bush beside a busy path?

“Hey!”

It was a young boy, even younger than you. With a mop of curly hair and wide brown eyes-

“My prince? What are-”

“There you are! I found you!”

A few feet in front of you stood the eldest prince, expression wide and excited.

“Looks like I win again!”

Instantly, the younger prince jumped to his feet and out from the bush.

“That wasn’t fair! You didn’t even find me! I want to go again!”

“Does it even matter? I’ll still win anyways!”

As the boys continued to argue, you did your best to remove yourself from the situation. Backing away slowly, you went to return the way you came. Perhaps you can wait to explore the rest tomorrow with Helyn…

“Wait! Maid!”

Behind you was the eldest prince, trailed by his pouting brother.

You did your best to bow, remembering your lessons.

“My prince, please forgive me for intruding-”

“You may rise, there is nothing to forgive! In fact, there is something my brother and I mean to ask you.”

“Yes, my prince?”

“We’re starting a game of Come Into My Castle, and we need a princess to rescue…”

You had never heard of such a game, did they want you to find someone who did? Or…?

“What Jace means is, do you want to play with us?”

It was very tempting. The day had been lonely and uneventful without your friend, and you longed to play in a group like you had back home. But were you allowed to play with them even if they asked? Your mother or Lady Jeyne had never discussed it.

“You won’t get into trouble if that’s what you fear.”

You thought on it some more. Your one and only friend was gone for the time being. You were awfully bored. They had, in fact, approached you. They did say you wouldn't get into trouble…

“Okay! How do you play?”

~*~*~

“It’s not fair!” Prince Lucerys whined,“You’re bigger and stronger than me!”

“All is fair in love and war!” Prince Jacaerys whined back, mimicking his brother's high pitched voice.

It turned out Come Into My Castle was not a very amusing game. All you did was scream when Jacaerys dragged you away by the arm and hid you in one of the trees. Whenever Lucerys tried to save you, only to be chased off by his brother, you occasionally cried out; “Oh save me my prince!”

When the two switched places, Jacaerys as the hero and Lucerys as the villain, nearly the exact same thing would happen: Jacaeys would best his younger brother at every turn, until Lucerys gave in to his exhaustion. This time Jacaerys had come out on top yet again, pinning his younger brother to the ground until the poor boy's face was full of dirt.

You waited until the round was finished before you spoke.

“It appears I win again and the Lady is mine to keep!” Jacaerys roared, offering his hand to help you down at least. As the youngest in your family, it pained you to watch the youngest at the mercy of the oldest. Immediately you thought up a game that may help.

“Perhaps we should play something else?” You proposed.

“Such as?” Lucerys asked excitedly.

“Such as…” You reached down to undo your belt, before loosely fastening it around Jacaerys waist. “Capture!”

The two boys stared at you, clearly confused. Perhaps this was not a game the highlord's played?

“One player, Jacaerys, must wear this belt. He cannot take it off. It is our job to take it from him!” Lucerys seemed to perk up at that.

“So it is like tag!”

“Exactly! And so we are not just chasing Jacaerys until he is too tired to run…”

You looked around briefly before picking out the best landmarks. “The stone dragon and the backgate are safe. Jacaerys can place his hands on those two things and we cannot take the belt from him- as long as he is touching those two things.”

“And what is stopping me from just staying in the safe spots?” Jacaerys asked, skeptically.

“You can only stay there for, let’s do thirty seconds, so you can catch your breath. Once those thirty seconds are up the belt is ours to take!”

Lucerys was practically bouncing up and down with excitement, clearly thrilled to finally have a chance to best his brother.

“I still don’t know…” Jacaerys asked, perhaps sensing a threat to his winning streak.

“Please!” Lucerys begged, “It sounds fun! And besides you’re still faster than me.”

“And it’s not like you’re afraid to be beat by a girl, right my prince?” You chimed in as sweetly as you could, again batting your lashes.

Prince Jacaerys considered it for a moment, before nodding his head reluctantly.

“Alright.”

If only he knew.

Boys are much faster than girls, you knew. But comparatively you had more running experience. But you couldn’t flaunt it, not yet. You had to lure the prince into a false sense of security first, before you won the game fair and square.

So during the first few minutes, you always stayed two steps behind Jacaerys, with Lucerys trailing on your heels. To and fro it went, back and forth. When the prince's breathing grew more labored and his pace began to lag, you decided to pounce. As he circled around Lucerys, making a beeline for the dragon statue, you reached out snatching the belt clean from around his waist.

“Point!” You cried, triumphant.

Jacaerys appeared shocked, then determined.

“Okay, this time you wear the belt and we’ll see how well you do!”

Needless to say you lasted much longer than Jacaerys had, knowing the right time to zig zag, dip and dodge. You only relented when you noticed Lucerys still trying desperately to keep up. So it was to him which you gave the honor; winding around one of the trees and running right in the young boy's direction.

“I did it! I did it!” Lucerys called.

“Boys?”

You froze in your tracks. You recognized that clear sweet voice, even though you had heard it only once.

Sure enough standing above you on the lower balcony, just overlooking the garden, was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne herself- Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. Had she been there this whole time?

You dropped to your knees instantly, silently praying to The Gods for mercy. Jacaerys had assured you were free from any trouble, but still. You had not thought to get her permission before agreeing. Was going behind her back treason?

“What are you doing?” She didn’t sound upset. In fact she sounded simply curious, or at least you had thought so.

“Just playing mother!” Jacaerys called up to her, “We should be done in a couple of minutes!”

She smiled at that, before glancing down at you, regarding you with careful violet eyes.

“And who is your friend?”

It hit you then, you hadn’t even bothered introducing yourself to them before you started playing. Of all the shameful stupid things-

“Y/N, your grace. The princes asked if I should like to play with them so I-”

She held her hand up to silence you.

“Very well. Make it quick, supper is almost ready.”

And in a quick flash of black brocade, the princess was gone.

“Told you it was fine.” Jacaerys said, grabbing the belt from Lucerys and fastening it around his waist again. “At Kings Landing our uncles never wanted to play games with us. Aegon was too busy chasing girls, and his brother was…Well...So we played with the serving children instead. Mother never minded.”

You sighed in relief, placing your hand over your racing heart.

“Oh good. I had thought-”

“Are we going to finish the game or not?” Jacaerys teased.

“Last I checked we still don’t have a clear winner!”

#jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys strong #jacaerys valaryon x reader #self insert #fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon #servant reader #commoner reader #class differences #childhood friends #friends to lovers

105 notes · View notes

soranihimawari · 2 years

Text

His Royal Highness

Strangers to lovers, but make it a royalty!au

Pairing: iwazumi x (f!) reader

Word Count: 6.9K

Warnings: fluff with angsty undertones & suggestive ending.

The sundial in the garden is currently out of commission. It is late into the evening as the moon is rising steadily over the rest of the kingdom. Behind, encased in the glass windows of the grand ballroom, a birthday gala is being held for a young ruler. Name day celebrations are taken very seriously here in this kingdom regardless of status. Inside said ballroom the celebrant celebrates with his comrades in arms: High King Oikawa (who came from abroad to visit an old friend), Sir Hanamaki who still serves the guards closest to the prince, and Sir Mattsukawa, head of training newer clergymen under the guise of preparing for another uprising in neighboring estates. This quartet of young men are also the talk of the town considering all of them were listed as the most eligible bachelor's this side of the country had to offer.

Truly, it was a sight to behold, considering the company that you keep is filled with butlers and maids in attendance. Unlike those four who flirt and dance with the young socialites around them, you were given the task to clear the emptying plates and such. You were part of the kitchen detail today, which was a bit of a far reach for your work as an apothecary's assistant. Flowers within the queen's royal private garden were often tended by herself, the gardner and you. You came to the castle at an odd turn of events in your young life. With being no older than nineteen, a full year ahead of her son, you were sent for in the orphanage after the queen mother requested you. It seemed you were of age when Mother Superior asks for you to pack your things; your sketches of the flowers used to assist the sick children who were too fond of you seemed to have caught the eye of the royal family's physician and personal apothecary. Regardless, why you're here in the ballroom now seems a bit odd. Even for the birthday celebrant.

The music the orchestra plays is one of flirtatious desire; a tug and pull of sorts. What you don't see while you're speaking with the personal butler of the prince, is the same prince who eyes you from afar. He is not paying attention to the woman pretending to be interested in political gains nor further nurturing the trade routes as of late. You shake your head at some joke, said prince reasons when he sees a rarity for him: a genuine smile. For what it's worth, Prince Iwazumi Hajime doesn't care for such ridiculous festivities. Perhaps come the first light of day he will send for your aid mentioning he needs a draught to cure a hangover. When the lady to his left notices where his attention seemed to have been for a while, she bows as she bids them all a good evening. She haughtily gathers her skirt in her hands and storms off.

"That has to be a record," Oikawa tries not to laugh, though his eyes do. He pats Iwazumi's shoulder. "For the past few months Lady Riz over there has tried to grab your attention and you could not be bothered with a woman like her."

Iwazumi rolls his eyes. "What are you insinuating Shittykawa?"

"That you're in love with that fiore over there," Hanamaki takes a swig of the mead in his goblet. "Wouldn't be the first time you've been caught ogling 'er. C'mon Mattsun. Let's see which woman would care to spend the night with us."

Mattsukawa cracks a joke about the orgy he was planning to have mentioning corests and stays are easy to undo when you've got a short dagger in your boot. The two knights leave in search for such a lady. The grand king and his princely best friend stand by an ice sculpture of the palace. A gift made from the artisans ages prior. How it has not begun to thoroughly melt is a mystery. Anyways, the prince still stares in your direction, whenever you move on to the next table or take a quick break to switch trays, he is intrigued by what his mother told you to wear. It's not much different than the very clothes he's seen you in, yet the ivory and cerulean shade of your formal attire seemed to make you have the figure of an angel, or a demon if his best friend was truly being honest.

"Talk to her, lest you want me to go in your stead," Oikawa nudges him.

"And say what?"

"I don't know. That's for you to figure out because," the king downs the rest of his wine before calling out your name. You wave when he does, beckoning you to come over. "Here she comes."

Fuck.

“Good evening your majesty,” your voice is molten honey to someone’s ear. Oikawa notices the bow you give him before greeting the person he is with. “Your highness.”

Oikawa hands you his cup asking if the party was going well for you. Your compatriots who walk by the champagne table are swapping the used glasses for more filled ones at the moment.

“As well as any other gala her majesty throws I suppose,” you reply.

“You rather be doing your work in the garden gazebo,” the prince observes after finding his voice.

“Exactly. I don’t see why I have to be here to help clean your party goers’ mess, but alas this order came from queen mother, so I must comply.”

You let out a sigh as you bow again bidding them good night.

“You should have asked her,” oikawa scolds his friend.

“I know.”

Iwazumi groans while Oikawa leaves to work his way round the room.

…

As the party dwindled down, you’re finding yourself in the public garden. The hedges are quite nice this time of year. A wisteria tree begins to blossom by the north side of the palace. In your hands a gardenia bloom flutters away from the tree supporting your back as you are seated on the bench. The light from the celestials above keep your company until a breaking of a twig is heard. You don’t have the heart to gasp because a familiar scent wafts above: mint, and the lightest hint of cinnamon create an image in your mind.

“Miss YN,” Ah yes, that voice you’ve become familiar with greets you.

“Your highness,” you return his greeting, half rising from the bench when he makes a sign you didn’t have to bow.

“May I ask why you’re out here when there’s still some people to entertain within?”

He takes a deep breath and upon the exhale he summons every ounce of courage he can at this hour.

“Because I rather spend time out here with a person I like versus the ones who’s only after me for my titles,” he is rather stiff when he states the truth.

You don’t really mind.

“Glad to know that,” you tease a toothy grin at him. Patting the space next to you, you both converse for what seems to be hours, only to have another guard come fetch him to give his thank you speech.

“Go on, I’ll be right behind you…” your voice encourages him to finally stand.

There’s a raw break in your voice when he hears your dress rustle. You do follow him like you said, yet he was amused by the way the gardenia he placed behind your ear moments ago still sits there. You’re thinking he looks back to flustered you more than he already has, but that is not the case: the crown prince knew his heart wanted to be given the chance to do something a bit outrageous.

“Dance with me,” words escape faster than he could swallow them back in.

“Now?” You blink at him, sort of embarrassed by the sweet command.

The prince nods, looking above the halo the moon makes of your hair. In the same light, you look at how the aquamarine jewels sparkle on his broach. They were the same ones gifted to his father once by his mother long ago. However, if you notice the reddening of his ears, you say nothing; upon closer inspection, you do notice the details of the refined silks he wears this summer evening. The threads feel soft against your knuckles and you can tell he is waiting your next move with a baited breath.

You seemed amused and baffled by this, but you oblige in his request. You take hold of his hand and the music from the ballroom is still loud enough to create a softer ambiance here. The tiles in this side of the garden serve as your floor away from prying eyes of the aristocracy.

“Your highn—”

“Hajime,” he interjects, placing your free hand on his shoulder.

With that settled, he moves that same hand down your back to push you closer than before. The other which you hold is pressed against his chest. A small smile on either face masks the truth for a short while.

“Call me that when we’re alone,” he sounds like he’s begging, but you hum a reply the moment he does lead you with the intent of making you feel lighter than spun sugar.

You know this dance, you haven’t had time to try to find a partner lately in the party, yet you found one who is confident in his steps. Toward the end of the dance, there is a lift, a spin, and a bow. Gracefully, he does all three and your hair brushes against his tunic, making you laugh when your feet touch the ground. He still holds you, yet this time he is the one choosing to smile widely in wonder hoping his intentions were clear; he has yet to let you go, hands remaining where they are—yours on his shoulders, his on either side of your waist.

“Miss YN.”

“Hmm?”

“May I be bold one more time?”

You glance up to see a spark reflective in hopes emerald eyes; the moon is bright today seeing as to how it creates the shadows on his sharp features. You choose to nod rather than say anything because of you did, you might have stopped him before his right hand cups your face, asking you to look at him. He’s so close to you now and in a matter of seconds, you feel his lips brush against yours like he’s sealing a secret. Your eyes blink close the second his hand slides away from your face only to hold the back of your head pushing you to deepen what he started. He doesn’t want to break apart, you know this. You feel it in the way he gingerly pulls you to his body; the ridges of your formal stays are played with, lingering touches ignite your skin on fire. On the other hand, your leaning into your lover’s touch more; you feel like you’re going to pass out because all you know is how your heart holds out hope for him before you.

“Hajime,” your voice is small when he lets himself and you breathe. His lips curl into a smile when he pressed them against your forehead.

“Tomorrow,” he answers, understanding your concerns. “Tomorrow we can go back to our duties.”

You inhale a deep breath only to create some distance between each other.

“And for tonight?”

He holds your hand, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles. A mischievous grin on his face makes you insinuate more intimate moments were to follow.

“Tonight stays between us, fiore mia.”

It was not long after his lips crash into yours again, committing his first confession to memory. You inhale sharply, slowly losing yourself into the desire that has ebbed at your heart. His highness must have felt that too considering now his hands raise themselves higher when your own wrap around thee base of his neck, pushing him further into your figure.

He breathes rather roughly like there is no time to waste; you are too drunk on his touch to care about how wrong this would be if you two were caught. Calloused hands push the fabric you wear a bit higher to expose the scars of your past transgressions—ankle shackles on children who were kept in old houses with crueler leads; you often were a troublemaker in the few houses you stayed in until you reached here by age ten. If the prince sees these scars when opens his eye, he doesn’t say anything; he’s too preoccupied by having you melt into him more. One day you tell him candidly in full, and eventually your scars are where he kisses you the most. For now, though, his focus is on the warmth you provide in the summer heat. He feels you bite his lips, causing a chuckle to escape.

“I think you’re falling for me,” your breath is scalding against his lips, especially when his nose brushes against your cheek.

“Not ‘falling,’” he kisses the corner of your mouth. “Fell.”

You almost bucked up his chin when you raise your head to see if he’s joking. The crowned prince realizes what’s he saying right? That this wasn’t a trick, the dance, speaking to you? Not with the sincerity he’s emoting s he’s listing off various yn-isms he finds makes you worthy of being exclusively his.

“Oikawa’s been waiting for me to do this,” he pauses to make a sign between your lips and his. “with you.”

How quaint, you think when you drape an arm around his shoulder.

“We should be lovers,” he confesses in the quiet space between you. He can’t take the words back just like how you ponder your next words not so carefully either.

“Sweet boy, I thought we already were,” your answer is a dangerous one because you stand on your toes to reach him.

Gently like the seafaring breeze are your kisses; satisfyingly simple and unlike the urgency of his, you teach him what there is to know about being quietly bold. He whispers in your ear where to find him later seeing as he had delayed the speech long enough. You turn him round by the shoulders and politely push him back toward the ballroom. You give yourself a few minutes to calm down, laughing at the way he presses his fingers against his lips making sure your warmth stays there.

What neither of you see is a pair of prying eyes between the rose bushes; the dress of a familiar lady is as red as her face angry up stood on a place where she thought she could reach. It doesn’t do well when the same lady is also an aristocrat’s daughter who usually gets what she wants. And right now, you’re walking behind the young ruler she wishes to marry.

Ever since that night, you tend to have been motivated to end your work early in the garden. The prince formally calls for you to join him at least twice a week for afternoon tea or for you to accompany him to the knights barracks. Often during these times, he dismisses those who cater to his every whim, even the queen mother. She doesn’t pick up on the way her son requests your presence, not yet anyway. She thinks it’s grand her son found some lady to confide in, which is odd considering the company her son keeps consists of his two head knights and a king whom assumed the throne quite young in another neighboring estate to the east. Does the queen wish it was an aristocratic lady of noble pedigree? Sure, but as it stands, she doesn’t mind the blossoming friendship between her son and you.

During those days when you are called to be by his side for hours on end, you ponder what is it about you that vexes him so. One day, you come to aid him in the barracks after hearing a young squire came to defend his commander during a bout. You don’t inquire why the prince doesn’t choose the physician, but here you are tending to a rough injury during a sword cut from a drill. The blonde squire who was injured protecting his master from a sore loser on the ground grumbles curses after the prince makes his name known as the next to take the kingdom vows for knighthood. You stand in the back, waiting for the cheers to die down and you’re able to escort the lad to a stone bench. You bring a healing sauce and bandages. Honestly, in your opinion, the squire is of age and should be taking his oath soon. You kneel down in front of him, asking him to hold out his arm.

“Lady?” his voice is gruff.

“Yes?” You dismiss the others except for the prince who watches your movements. You hold his arm steady, inspecting the wound for any other debris.

“Are you always this kind?” the boy asks.

“And are you always getting into fights Kyōtani?” Your dabbing the salve now. “Be mindful this will sting like all hell, ok?”

Her braces himself and he slightly whimpers when you place the fabric on there.

“I’ll make quick work of this. Hand me the rest of the ribbon… excellent.”

You wrap and secure the bandage in an efficient manner. The blonde looks away from you for a moment, slightly pink in the face before running off. The rest of the training session, he was seen polishing and sharpening blades. Although, you were currently preoccupied by the hands of a royal which held you up against a cold wall.

“How many kisses are you going to steal from me?” You tease, punching your captor softly on the chest.

“As many as you like,” is his reply.

“Then give them all to me.”

Your feet barely touch the floor as he uses the wall to support you when he bunches your skirts higher than your knees. He holds you steady by the waist until your legs hang from the side of his hips. Clattering of teeth in the silence makes it possible for you to swallow more groans of pleasure from him the further you let this kiss steal the air in your lungs. It doesn’t take very long for him to find the correct path to give you both more privacy. Bruising lips create marks well hidden by your stays and bustier come the daylight hours. A few steps more and the door is completely closed behind you, a bed is nearby and you are too drunk on his teasing touches to care where you are. All you know is that you wish he’d hurry up and untie your garments because as it stands, he is making it very hard for you to keep breathing with how harshly his kisses become.

“Stay the night?”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

It doesn’t take very long before you find yourself waking up in a room you don’t belong in. The first time this happened, nothing occurred. You sent word to your teachers saying the prince was not feeling the best and had requested you monitor him. Fine. The second and third were the weather’s fault: the last of the rain and the beginnings of the autumnal season had begun. Running around stealing baked goods with said prince was enough to have the kitchen staff notice the growing friendship between you two. Some say friendship, others think the prince is taken with you. Whatever the case may be, you don’t give off any other boundary defining snippets except when you argue with him over who makes the best croissants.

Regardless, you’re lying awake, half dressed and behind you, you feel him breathe heavily. Last night you almost thoroughly lost yourselves in the throes of young love, but you decided it was for the best to not engage in such activities. You don’t wish to be a royal concubine, you had your eyes set on taking your teacher’s apothecary spot. The prince honors this request, understanding if the roles were reversed he would advise the same thing. You try to shuffle out of the comfortable bed only to be drawn back into the warmth of his embrace.

“Not yet,” his groggy voice brought up some amusement in these hours.

“We have to go,” you whisper back.

Breathing in your scent from your shoulder, he turns you round to see him above you. There is a lazy smile on his face when he’s sees how flustered you are staring up at his bare chest.

“No, we don’t,” he scoops you up in one arm to place morning kisses along your exposed neckline. The chemise you wore had silence that easily slide off if he’s being bold enough. You echo his words when you prop yourself up, breathing in between the languid kisses your lover plants against your neck. You keep him here in your arms safe from the outside responsibilities just as he keeps you safe here in his chambers. Both of you decide to stay a little while longer, lingering in each other’s touches. With a final kiss on your brow, you effortlessly hold his chin in your hands. You bring him to eye level, inquiring about a certain thing even a prince can’t ignore:

“Your highness, don’t you have a meeting with the aristocracy today?”

“Ugh… don’t remind me,” he frowns. “They’re now trying to sell me their daughters to wed.”

You dropped your hand leaning in against the pillow there.

“I see… well then,” you move quicker than he does out of the bed bc that is not yours. “I shouldn’t keep you from that.”

You are dressed in the garments from last night and before your counterpart can stand, he hears the passageway door open and close. Today was the first of many when you decided to create more distance between your visits with him. What a day for hell to have frozen over, your thoughts circulated your mind enough to have you some out when trimming some of the nightshade blooms. The gardener seems to have noticed at this point and you apologize for not listening fully.

“Seems you’re preoccupied by something,” he says.

There’s a laughter across the promenade at the gazebo where you see the queen converse with green guests. One of which seems familiar, then it clicks. The same girl you saw at the gala; the one who haughtily walks away from the prince and friendly king. You see her parent with her while the queen laughs at a joke; suddenly you’re reminded of your place. You excuse yourself from the gardener’s care, mentioning you weren’t feeling well.

“Too much sun?” Your company asks, motioning for a child in the garden to escort you to your room.

“Something like that.”

The older man looks down at his grandchild with instructions to deliver a message to the prince. The kid looks back between you and their grandfather, the realization on the child’s face is priceless.

“Take care of her,” he says, patting the kid’s shoulder. Off you went with the child, who you find out wishes to take over in their grandfather’s stead. As they prattle on, you could not help glancing over your shoulder as the prince, who’s bed you keep warm during this season, greets his mother.

“I saw you speak with Lady—Hajime?” His mother’s voice seems distant as she sees what or rather who has her son’s attention. She sees you being escorted out of the gardens, a hand on your head checking to see if you were ill. Glancing between your disappearing figure and her son, she sees his concern on his brow. Surely hiding romantic feelings from the woman who raised you would be a rather difficult task, but alas even Prince Iwazumi Hajime is impervious to a mother’s intuition.

“Yes?”

“A word,” she excuses them from their (her company) instructing the other father-daughter to enjoy the garden.

As they create more distance, away from prying ears, a mother consults her son. She gives her son a pointed stare.

“Son, be honest with me,” she begins. Moss green eyes reflect her own with a sentiment of dejectedness in them. “How long?”

“Mother,” his voice is pleading at best.

“How long Hajime?”

“…since the gala…” he mumbles his answer.

His mother sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. She turns over her shoulder to see her esteemed guests walking around another set of bougainvillea bushes before she returns her sights to her son.

“You can have your fun for now, but as it stands, she is a better match for you in status alone,” is all the advice she gives before being embraced by her son.

Even if it’s for a short or long time, the prince knows his mother was looking out for his best interest.

Currently, you’re laying down in your room’s couch, a headache from the sun was roaring its way in between your ears. The child from earlier was dismissed by you after fetching some juice and fever reducing potions. Your fever came next though as you were sitting down with the apothecary who served you a portion of clear broth and some bread with meat and cheese. He rests the palm of his hand over your forehead and he confirms you’re suspicions.

“Fevers are usual this time of year my dear girl,” he says.

You smirk as you sip your tea.

“Get some rest and worry not about the affairs of the castle. I’ll see to it word reaches a certain boy prince to not visit for a few days time since the people wish to see their future ruler healthy.”

“Of course,” your voice is a bit hoarse now too since the meats you had were of a smokey variety.

Approximately six days later, you are seen by the handmaids you know to travel with a certain grand king. The solstice for this season is around the corner when you enter the library, which for right now, is in a disarray. Certain chefs along side other personnel were searching the cookbooks for feast-day meal ideas. The others were interior decorators looking to spruce up the space in its entirety. You were honestly looking for refuge from the eyes of a certain lady who seemed to have nothing more than her claim as future queen. In the back corners of the second level of the library, by the stained glass window, you sit on the floor with a sketch book filled with your own parchment drawings of certain flowers and their healing properties; to your right were the books on the winter flora and spring fauna that’s sprout sightings as early or as late in the year here in the kingdom. A few paint brushes were left behind in your room while you were recovering from said brush of fever chills by the gardener and his grandchild as a get well soon gift, thankful your pockets in your dress were deep enough to carry them along with the bottle of ink you typically used to make calligraphy notes.

Moments later, there is a commotion downstairs as royal greetings were heard, and you were unbothered to check who had entered. Clearly it was someone higher than the friend of the prince. The queen just that morning mentioned she had extended invitations to the neighboring kingdoms as it was their turn to host the solstice festivities. Hushes were heard delicately placed as a familiar voice is heard giving the tour of the castle. You keep writing the notes you had begun to make as the company exits. Regardless of who they were, you were sure you;d be introduced when the party makes their way to your shared workshop a day later. For right now, you’re able to research in peace.

In your efforts to create some distance between yourselves, the crowned prince paces his room. His friends who keep his company are sharing a carafe of aged liquor amongst them. The chess game is long since abandoned while the young men speak of their latest conquest. One ought to be wise when dealing with the affairs of bedding and the like since one was a king, the other a future ruler, the third a flirtatious smart ass, and the fourth the most loyal of the women he has thoroughly fucked in times of peace.

“And you? Have you bed that apothecary girl yet?” Crowns lay forgotten on the end tables by the ottoman in the solarium.

“Judging by how red he is turning, I think our lovely friend has not,” the knight has a wolffish smile. “I wonder why that is especially when Mattsun here has seen the lady sneak out of your room multiple times…”

Iwazumi sees Mattsukawa shake his head violently when the knight feels the eyes of his commander on him.

“Ohohoho, Iwa-chan you dog,” Oikawa’s eyes turn into amused crescents.

Iwazumi sighs, his blush almost completely disappearing. A cross look on his furrowed brows reads as something opposite of what his friends insinuated.

“She refuses me every time I bring it up,” the prince sits dejectedly on the nearest chair. “Something about not being the right fit for me.”

“Right fit?” Oikawa repeats. The other two, Hanamaki and Mattsukawa figure it out before Iwazumi has a chance to explain.

“Lower status, is what she means,” Mattsukawa rubs his chin. Hanamaki leans back against his own chair closing his eyes before he slaps his leg with a large smile on his face.

“Whatever you’re about to propose, I want no part in it,” Iwazumi says with his hands raised in innocence. Mattsukawa agrees to this as well.

“Fine, I’ll have his majesty do it then,” Hanamaki states eyeing said king. “Why don’t you just, I don’t know, knight the lady?”

“…excuse me?” Iwazumi grumbles. “Oikawa can’t just knight a lady, can you?”

“Why not?” Oikawa questions. He straightens up his posture. “I’m a king who aims to please my friends, and be it as it may, you are quite taken with YN-san, so who am I stand in your way of happiness?”

“Besides,” Mattsukawa leans forward, folding his arms over his thighs. “Wouldn’t you be able to actively court her if she were a true lady of Oikawa’s court? Your mother seemed very adamant about letting word get out her only son is in love with an apothecary apprentice.”

The four men talk about the plans to have you knighted properly by the time the second day of the festivities are in full swing. A fifth, a squire who is supposed to take his vows to uphold the kingdom’s safety with his life, is asked to be a witness to the title being bestowed upon you. The boy is said to be one year younger than the prince whom he looks up to, yet he is a bit rough around the edges, however he does befriend you one afternoon when he received a rather harsh punishment for speaking his opinion during a capture the flag exercise. He recalls you showing him kindness and is actually one of the few young squires you trust with your life especially since he covered for you when he witnesses the prince exit the balcony of your room. You inform him of the truth and though he isn’t bothered by the story of your private affair, you are grateful he chooses to not blabber to the gossips in the court since a certain lady caller was still with her father for the entirety of the winter season.

Lady Riz is not an easy woman to scare off, she is rather brazen in the ways she attempts to start flirting with anything and everything the prince does. You encourage them to keep meeting, much to the prince’s dismay for his reasons are as follows: “She doesn’t understand why I can’t be with her one-hundred percent of the time”; “That woman is an emotional leech, draining me of my energy,” he rests his head on your lap for that one; “The lady bores me so much with her ignorant speech about those of lower rankings and says I should start speaking down to my personal staff. Can you believe that?” That one stung the most. Lately, even with the festival beginning, the prince and you rarely see each other, something that must have been remedied according to the squire whom you’ve formed a friendly bond with. He notices the toll it has on you as your room certainly gains a few additions: plants, books, medical texts, etc crowd the various tables at the moment.

In the end of your reflective moments for the year’s end as the festivities were a week long, while you were retiring for the night, not really wanting to go see the last bit of the floating lanterns traditions, you’re sudddenly pulled by the hand into a darkened hallway. You almost scream, except you hear a familiar voice in your ear stating to calm down.

“You’re going to be the death of me I swear,” your voice is as harsh as winter’s first frost. You turn to face an apologetic lover who seemed to be a bit anxious because he would have spoiled the surprise awaiting you in the underground grotto (it runs into a hot spring you discovered last spring).

“Come with me for a while,” he says lightly pecking your forehead. “Seems I forgot how you enchant me when we are alone.”

“Lead the way your highness,” is all he heard you say before squeezing your hand, giving you a final kiss on your cold lips.

The path is a familiar one you reason as you pass by the ivy covered stones and slicked moss walls. Prince and you walk behind the other, no hands being held until a certain checkpoint has been past. It was to keep the appearance of formal etiquette when following a royal in those days. Candles and such line the walls every couple of yards until you see a group of men dressed in formal attire—a rare sight indeed it was to see knights and said squire out of their chainmail (amongst other armors). The only one to be wearing any defining pieces of regalia were Oikawa (who stood on a pedestal in the center of the grotto) with his everyday crown adorning his head and, of course, the prince whose crown was replaced for the season with the one made of silver and white gold. Hanamaki and Mattsukawa each hold a few things you’ve heard about when a knight does eventually take his final oaths prior to donning the garb of a sentry. The other set in the chest, apparently, is meant as a gift. For who, you don’t really think you need to know just yet.

“I feel very underdressed at the moment,” you said when all of them greet you. You in return bow to those of higher status, and as you straighten back up, you notice how quickly the prince lets your hand go.

“Don’t worry, yn,” Oikawa begins. “I’ve knighted people who have worn less before, you’re fine.”

“Oh, hah,” you peer to your left looking at the lad from earlier. “Congrats then Kyotani.”

“He wasn’t talking about me alone, yn-san,” the squire says.

You turn to face the friendly king who at the moment has a rather obnoxious smile on his face. To his left stands your lover, proud and tall, nodding this was indeed a thing that is about to happen.

“A-are you sure?” You stutter. “This might be too much.”

“Yes,” Oikawa answers. “Is it really too much if a king wishes to see his childhood best friend be with the woman he loves most in the world? And if elevating your status is the way your relationship can come out of hiding, so be it. I am of course elated to oblige…Kneel whenever you’re ready YN.”

You do as you’re asked almost immediately, focusing on the dirt accumulating on your knees, the shoes of those around you, right before you hear the unsheathing of Oikawa’s sword, you take a deep breath. Upon the exhale you repeat the vows that would forever change your life (and the future way you are to be treated).

“By the gods above us and the people here to witness this act, I, King Oikawa Tooru, dub thee YLN, YN, grand duchess of the northern skies,” this causes Iwazumi to stare wide eyed at his friend as the shock settles in. You were only supposed to be knighted to lady, not a duchy. Oikawa makes a hand sign to Hanamaki holds a bronze arm band which rests high on your upper arm. You rise shortly thereafter before asking the question on everyone’s mind:

“Have you completely lost your mind? The northern territories are going to riot because they had no ruler since their duke died,” you glare as you finally stand in equal footing with the royals ahead of you.

“No, I haven’t,” Oikawa stays his ground. “Because I looked into it. Although the duchy is vacant, I’ve had scholars and scribes look into the family tree of the dearly departed and a rather nice piece of juicy intel was revealed. Tell me, your grace, have you ever known your lineage?”

Silence ensured shortly thereafter. You answer the king’s questions efficiently and when the official documents are signed nearly twelve hours later, you are suddenly called into the court of which you serve. Guests whisper as you are escorted by familiar two guards nod with Hanamaki on your left and Mattsukawa on your right, you bow as you extend your greetings to the woman on the throne.

“King Oikawa has informed me of a rather intriguing secret,” she says rising from her chair. “He mentions he discovered a bastard offspring of an egotistical duke and handmaid, both of whom are dead.”

“Mother,” Iwazumi tries to spare you his mother’s ire, but fails as she reluctantly tears into you calling you liar, fool, and thief. You, in your humble commoner’s clothes stand tall as the insults and whispers are hurled around or on to your persona.

“What you speak of is news to me my queen,” you have a chance for retribution, so you steady your quivering hand. “For I have no right to claim anything other than what his royal majesty had bestowed upon me in title alone.”

“Now why would he do such a thing? Hmm?” Her lips are taut into a tight line, like her son when he is enraged.

“Because he couldn’t bear seeing his best friend, his royal highness, lose his opportunity at a love best hidden from prying eyes, so forgive them both for trying to aid a girl who fell for a good man,” your words are filled with wisdom in their earnest honesty. “You can do with me as you see fit your majesty, but since I have a duchy to run, I pray this season does it’s best to shake you to your senses.”

You turn on your heel without so much as a bow nor a farewell. The prince has a wicked smile on his face ignoring her calls for him to return to her side, choosing to follow you with a ready mind. The queen quiets down as she watches her son call after you with a pep in his step before he runs to the woman who ought to rule one day. Before the doors do close, your prince takes your hand only to make sure his mother sees her son kiss the duchess soundly on the mouth before scurrying off to the northern territories.

“He loves her auntie. Don’t worry, I’ll see to it they are safe,” her son’s closest friend said as he too follows the lovers’ lead.

King Oikawa immediately bows to his friend’s mother prior to following both of you out of the court laughing about how lion like you truly are. Hanamaki and Mattsukawa exit after their kingly friend while looking at the stunned court mentioning something about how the north seemed to be sparkle in the winter months. The lady and her father from many weeks past are ultimately baffled by this meeting thereby withdrawing their running to be considered candidates for a royal match.

Clarity comes one evening at the one dinner table—the queen dines with her company who celebrate her husband’s death anniversary. A somber day indeed is now filled with a memory which over plays on her head while flashes of raising their son when she roams her garden freely.

“I don’t want to marry out of convenience mother,” young prince Hajime says. A scowl on his lips he has yet to break the habit of using. His father kneels down to pick up his decade old first born, glancing at his wife with a wink.

“Then if not for convenience, how about love hmm?” The king asks.

“Love?” The boy closes his eye and ponders. He closes his small fist and imitates his father’s mannerism when deciding upon an idea. “If I fall recklessly in love with someone, then I’d marry them!”

“Haha! Spoken like a true prince!” The king raises his son into the air before placing him back down.

At the time, the queen laughs just like she did now. The tree where the memory took place in front of now has began to bloom again.

The past couple of days there had been many a fine one; there is a trained falcon delivering letters to the queen’s room. No doubt the letters come from her son who did take the last bit of wisdom his father gave him to heart. The note as of late includes an inscription in your handwriting: ‘know that an invitation is to follow if you’ll have us.’ And for the first time in a long while, the queen sends the falcon back with a personal script mentioning she will be looking forward to it.

Come the spring, your new estate is restored to its former glory. You’ve met the city councilmen as you explain to them you are not here to discredit their progress, but rather are here as a figurehead for all official meetings with certain nobles. Those who were older seemed to have been open to the idea while their sons and grown grandsons were a bit weary of your expertise on certain subjects. However, your dedication in the willingness to learn is what turned them to raise your popularity. Does it help your beau is the crown prince? A little, but for the time being, he is a fantastic tutor in running stately affairs as your esteemed guest, the one who had the authority to give you said title.

For now, though the sun has set, your books remained opened on the desk, yet you are forced to take a break especially since a certain young man had pinned you to your bed. It doesn’t take very long for clothing to be discarded and a rustling of sheets to be heard while a quick, “shh, not so loud,” is heard from you. You cup his face as he seemed to settle between your legs, a chuckle rumbles through his chest. Teasing touches across the exposed parts of you with his hands serves as a reminder this was a very real practice; it’s something this lover of yours always does since the first time you’ve let him come this far.

“Are saying that more for yourself or for me beautiful girl?” his voice is always like this when he’s about to bed you. Again. For the fifth time that day.

You arch your back to have his lips meet yours before he eventually gets to hear his name be pulled from your lips in hoarse tones. Bruises from the last time have started to fade, so naturally you ask him to start slow, yet he treats you as gently as he can. If this is how your days start and end with him, you’d both learn to proclaim your studies (or meetings) over at a reasonable hour. Your scarred ankles are always kissed last and one night you told him how they came to exist, but he doesn’t mind because you are the most beautiful person to him. No titles are said to have been heard come from this room allegedly, but those who now serve here only know that their lady is just as satisfied as her lover.

Courting rituals are thrown to the wayside you’ve imagined. Yet with a cat like grin, you beckon your exclusive royal to carry on since, after all, he has all the time in the world to remind you who you truly belong to.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #haikyuu x reader #royalty!au #iwazumi x reader #prince iwazumi x commoner reader

65 notes · View notes