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ashandquiet · 7 months

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My Most Unswerving Devotion

Chapter 4: The Duke's Ball

Regency! Soma Jarlskona x F!Reader

Summary: Since coming to Norfolk to stay with your family, the conversations have all revolved around matrimony. Just when your aunt has found a match for you much to your chagrin, quite by accident you fall for the wealthy Duke of Cambridgeshire; Soma Guthrumsdóttir. Can circumstance truly keep you apart?

A/N: Our heroine arrives at the home of the Duke and explores the splendorous halls of her manor. I hope you all enjoy this update! I would love to know what you imagine your ballgown to look like, please visit my ask box and let me know there!

Read it on Ao3

You spent the next week buried in letters from Oswald, the rate of your correspondence had your aunt whispering about how you were surely in love, and how marriage couldn’t be far off. Yet that could not be further from the truth.

If she could’ve seen the true nature of your letters she would have been severely disappointed by the mention of Oswald’s other amour, Valdis, and that you were set to help him woo her and gain approval from her elder brothers; whose names you had come to learn were Brothir and Broder. They had fled from a gentleman in Denmark who was completely set on possessing Valdis even if that meant against her will. Due to these circumstances, the brothers were very apprehensive when it came to other alternate matches for their younger sister.

So while you busied yourself with ways that Oswald could entreat himself upon Vadis’s brothers, your new friend had set about procuring all the names and likenesses that he could of the lady gentlemen about the countryside.

In his most recent letter, Oswald assured you that at least three would be in attendance at the ball hosted by Soma Guthrumsdóttir. This list included the lady gentleman from the picnic, Birna Knudsen the daughter of some wealthy Scandinavian merchants, and the equerry to the Duke’s estate. Eivor Varinsdóttir, a friend of Oswald’s and apparently the Duke as well, was the orphaned child of a land-holding man in Norway who was adopted by another wealthy man. She and her brother had come to England to establish their own fortunes here. And of course, there would be the fabled Duke of Cambridgeshire herself, Soma Guthrumsdóttir, as she was the host. Yet you doubted your chances of even meeting her.

While it was customary for the guests to introduce themselves at a normal ball, a masquerade was quite different. All you had to look for was the presence of women dressed as men with masquerade masks.

As you pondered the worn threads of the handkerchief while sitting at the old mahogany writing desk, you couldn’t help but feel a slight tinge of bitterness.

Perhaps if you had been born wealthy or of better station you would have the luxury afforded to the women within the Duke’s inner circle. A life full of adventure and opportunity, and the freedom of financial choice. After all, it all came down to the money, it was not having it that put your future in jeopardy. Should your mother’s older brother have been more generous perhaps you wouldn’t have been forced into considering marriage as an economic proposition instead of one of amorous devotion.

Perhaps all the books you have read have completely spoiled you, and true love didn't exist after all.

You envied your new friend and his fortune in being a man, and his lady love for her vehemently protective older brothers blocking any idea of marriage.

You tried to shake the nasty feeling as you stood and paced about your room. Counting your blessings helped a bit to shirk the cruel sentiments away, you had made a friend, and he was willing to play at being your pretend suitor so that you could avoid matches at least till the end of the season. You had a mystery to unravel and a lady gentleman to chase, no matter how hopeless it seemed at times. And your uncle had just paid for a new dress to be constructed for you at the beginning of the summer, perhaps at the behest of your aunt and her insistence that your simple fashions would do little to win you the hand of a young man.

But nonetheless, it had arrived from the dressmakers at just the right time. The elegant piece hung from the top of your boudoir now, with all its splendorous beading and embroidery. Its matching masquerade mask was fashioned with feathers and set upon a sculpted rod, with a loop for the wrist fashioned with a string of pearls. Truly the most opulent garment and accessories you had ever seen.

A pack of fortunate blessings indeed.

Regardless of the events to come at the ball, you resigned yourself to make the most of the evening.

ꕥ

On the evening of the ball, it was raining.

You had stayed quiet while the maids helped you dress and affix your hair into a fashionable style with adjournments that complimented your dress in just the right way. They whispered and giggled about the joys of a ball and what a sensible event a masquerade could be for a burgeoning courtship.

Apparently, all ears in the household were aware of the supposed romantic attachment between you and Mr. Egerton. You made a note to inform Oswald tonight that you would be limiting your letters to once a week before rumors could spiral completely out of hand.

With your wrist freshly dressed with new bandages to cover the bruising and decorated with a pearl bracelet since gloves were out of the question due to limited mobility in your fingers, the maids stepped back to admire their handiwork and excused themselves back to other tasks.

“Are you alright miss?” One of the younger girls asked as the other two slipped out of the room with baskets of linens and your tray from afternoon tea.

You glanced over at her and offered a polite smile, “Yes, I’m alright, thank you.”

“If your wrist troubles you miss I could fetch some ice?”

“No it's quite alright thank you,” you hoped desperately you looked dismissive and that she’d leave.

With a final nod, she collected her basket of things and shuffled out of the room leaving you alone with your thoughts at last. You rose from the vanity stool to stand by the large window of your bedroom.

You rested your temple against the chilled glass watching as delicate droplets of summer rain hit the glass. Your thoughts were an incoherent mess, and your head was beginning to ache. Within a few hours, you would arrive at the home of the Duke of Cambridgeshire.

There you would have to scour what you could of the faces of party guests all dressed in finery and hidden behind masquerade masks. All while at least appearing cordial to the young men in attendance. Perhaps, you could “lose” your dance card in the gardens, and then any attempt to secure a dance with you could be rebuked. For it would be positively impolite to promise dances to anyone if you couldn’t keep track of who had asked for dances.

Or you could “forget” to place them in your handbag altogether. Where would you positively have the space? You turned your attention to the handbag stuffing the handkerchief inside with a vail of peppermint smelling salts should you need them. You briskly made your way down the main staircase and into the foyer where your aunt and uncle waited for the carriage to be brought around front.

Ever the demure gentleman your uncle was dressed plainly in a simple suit, clutching his simple silk mask. Your aunt, however, was dressed extravagantly in a bright lilac brocade, a gauzy gossamer shawl wrapped around her shoulders, with her hair done up full of adornments. Her own masquerade mask much like your own was worn around her wrist on a bracelet, the gaudy thing looked heavy, all decorated with gold and feathers.

She was so busy fussing over your uncle’s plain appearance, that when she finally caught sight of you she startled.

“Oh- my dear niece don’t you look just lovely! If you haven’t captured the heart of Mr. Egerton already you surely will tonight!” She swept her arms in large motions, making a full circle around you.

“Didn’t the dressmakers do the most wonderful job, dear husband?” She asked your uncle, though you weren’t sure she really expected him to answer.

“You look lovely Miss (Y/N),” your uncle nodded politely to you and walked towards the doors at the sound of the carriage wheels crunching on the wet stone pathway. “Now come on ladies, we don’t want to be late for the masquerade.”

You followed his lead and stepped out into the late afternoon air, despite the rain it was mildly warm out, and the smell of petrichor permeated the air with an almost iron quality. A butler held an umbrella over your head as you made your way to the carriage door, carefully lifting the skirts of your ballgown so they weren't ruined by the water that pooled in the rocks. On the horizon, you could see stretches of pink through the light spots in the clouds as the sun set just beyond the cover of rain.

As you took your seat you released a long breath and gazed out the window. Oswald had agreed to find you once you arrived, ask for a dance to keep your aunt satiated, and then after you would slip away and begin your investigation. All you had to do was survive this carriage ride.

The whole of the carriage ride from your uncle's estate to the home of the Duke your aunt tittered about the humidity inside the carriage, the length of the ride, and the abysmal subject of the perversion of a woman to think she can take the title of a man. While you couldn’t help but wish that the sound of the rain on the carriage roof was loud enough to drown out her idle prattle, your uncle repeatedly rebuked her attempts to stir contempt toward your host.

“If you cannot bring yourself to be civil towards our host, I will have this carriage turned around at once,” your uncle stated plainly as he fiddled with the silk of his masquerade mask for the umpteenth time. “She has kindly extended an invitation to us, I do not understand where you have gained such a predisposition to dislike the Duke, but if you must. Please save the rest of us the misery of hearing you commiserate about it.”

Your aunt sputtered clutching at her gloves, “M-my love, but haven’t you heard she- she lays with women.”

“Must you really recycle that old rumor? Are you afraid she’ll steal all the young ladies of the countryside away from you?” Your uncle gave her a pointed look that suggested she say no more on the subject.

“What would it matter if she did?” You asked softly as you fiddled with the wrap around your injured wrist.

“What would it matter-” Your aunt’s statement was cut short by a knock on the roof by the carriage driver.

The sudden disturbance caused all heads to turn towards the windows, there in the shimmering night, lay a magnificent manor house.

Even in the rain, the front was lit up with tiny glittering fires that shone off the cream-colored stone. Two mirrored staircases led from the oblong drive to an elevated terrace decorated with the boisterous blooms of hollyhock and delicate primroses, a Grecian colonnade held up a balcony lined with wisteria. Meticulously groomed hedges protected red-blooming crepe myrtle trees that hung heavy with blooms framed the front of the elegant home.

Identical glass doors lay open sending the raucous sounds of music and partygoers across the drive and waterlily-filled fountain, wherein the center three bare-breasted Grecian maidens poured water from painstakingly carved amphoras down into the pool that traveled the length of the drive.

“It's… breathtaking…,” you whispered moving ever closer to the window feeling as if you looked away from the dream before you it would disappear.

“It certainly is, the old Duke did have a flair for the dramatic,” your uncle affirmed as the carriage rolled to a stop between the two staircases.

“I doubt the naked maidens were his addition,” your aunt quipped as servants dressed in deep Aegean blue vests approached with umbrellas.

Your uncle turned towards her sharply, “If you must make comments perhaps we should return home. (Y/N), would you like to stay?”

For all her previous bluster your aunt fell silent as all eyes turned to you. Now it was your decision. Stay and look for the truth, or go.

Mustering your courage you smiled politely, “I can ask Mr. Egerton to bring me home in his carriage come the parties end.”

“Then it’s settled,” your uncle nodded to the servant who drew open the doors and you climbed out of the dark humid carriage and into the dewy night air.

“Be polite!” Was the last cry from the woman you left behind as you climbed the stone staircase and raised your masquerade mask to your eyes.

Finally, your hunt for the lady gentleman would begin.

ꕥ

Oswald met you in the main foyer, his own mask lifted so you could see his face, the mask pushed upwards mussed his blonde curls.

“Miss (Y/N), you’re here! And unchaperoned?” His voice was chipper yet cautious as he looked around for your aunt and uncle curiously.

“Due to, unforeseen… prejudice, I am attending unaccompanied yes, perhaps, it would be alright if I were to join you in your carriage for the ride back to Norfolk at the end of the night?” You asked moving your own mask aside so you could speak better.

“But of course! I couldn’t leave such a friend stranded,” he smiled and offered you his arm. “Come with me, I’ll supply you with a tour.”

The interior was just as splendorous with wide-open common spaces and glamorous furnishing. Once you looked up to see the visage of a goddess draped in gold painted upon the ceiling, her long golden hair spilling around her like the rays of the sun, her face tranquil and her hands outstretched.

Seasonal florals draped window sills and the edges of stairs, with spiraling candles decorating open spaces, illuminating the guests in a warm golden hue. The smell of orange flower cordial mixed with that of fresh fruit and decadent cheeses on table tops. Waiters stood in doorways and common areas with trays of ratsfia and punch, others with water and ices.

As Oswald guided you around the wide sprawling rooms decorated with paintings and sculptures, opulent rugs, and elegant drapery you became acutely aware that you were amongst a different sort of company here. Something about the energy that radiated from the very walls and the people that filled the rooms oozed safety and community.

While it was likely that societal rules still applied here, you pondered which rules exactly, surely not the same rules of the society your aunt clung to so vehemently. The ones where women wore dresses and men wore suits, where propriety was following the exact societal pressures to the letter. Women married men and had babies, and most certainly didn’t go about the countryside kissing other ladies.

After Oswald had shown you around the quieter rooms with their art, the pair of you entered the main ballroom you were quickly overcome by all the sights, colors, and smells.

A small ensemble of performers played jovial music from a raised platform in a far corner, filling the space with sound. Here people danced and laughed, chatted, and clapped along with the music. Everyone dressed in their finery faces obscured by masks of all kinds.

The heat of the bodies all around you made you glad of the open doors along the exterior walls, they bid glances out to the manicured gardens and the cool stone columns that lined the veranda.

You motioned for Oswald to halt and picked a place near enough to the doors that a gentle night breeze could cool your heated skin. He obliged and led you towards the nearest unoccupied high table. Thankful for the reprieve you placed your handbag down on the table. It was becoming difficult to hold up both your masquerade mask and the weight of the handbag with only one hand.

Now with the space between you and your companion, you felt free to let your eyes wander about the room. For a moment they lingered on a tall blonde woman dressed in blacks and blues and stayed there. You took account of her stylish men's suit, another lady gentleman. Her own mask was styled to look like a raven decorated with black feathers and silver detailing. The embroidery of her suit jacket was styled like that of the ancient Viking wood carvings and ravens. Oswald must’ve caught your glance because he leaned in so you could hear him over the din.

“My friend Eivor,” he said, and you recalled the name with a nod. “The woman wearing the cat mask with her is Valka, an old friend of her’s recently came from Norway.”

You nodded observing the pair, Valka was dressed elegantly yet almost simply in black, and her hair was wrapped in a black scarf making the natural ashen color of her mask stand out against the black silk. Soon a middling-height red-headed woman dressed in cobalt blue joined them from the dance that just concluded.

Oswald tapped the table lightly, “I’ll be right back, what do you say to a capillaire? Or perhaps a rose water?”

“Just a rose water would be fine thank you,” You nodded and waved him off letting your eyes continue to scan the crowd.

You spotted at least two other women dressed in gentlemen's clothes upon his departure and began to wonder if Oswald was really right about the country being filled with lady gentlemen. Maybe you operated in the completely wrong circles after all. Flushing you began to wonder how many ladies were in attendance that like you, held sapphic tendencies.

How many people had fled the ball before even entering the otherworldly manor house at the sight of the bare-breasted maidens alone? Or was the mention of the Duke’s name and her reputation alone enough to scare people away.

You noticed a tall lady gentleman weaving through the crowd, her dark hair pulled back, her own masquerade mask the visage of a horse. She approached the blonde, Eivor, and her companions and began speaking to them in a bright and affable way. From the musical lilt of her voice, you recognized her from the picnic as Birna Knudsen, the equerry of the estate.

That was two of the lady gentlemen Oswald had mentioned accounted for, you bit your knuckle as you glanced around the room curiously. Where would a Duke be in a place of such affluence and lush?

Oswald returned just as you had begun to admire the beautiful frescoes that adorned the ceilings.

“One rose water for the lady,” He said as he passed you the fine coupe glass.

“Thank you,” you took a sip and couldn’t help but sigh, the cool liquid helped to chill you. “I hadn’t realized how hot I was feeling.”

Oswald nodded as he sipped his own drink, “I hope you won’t find it an impertinence but I was thinking about joining the revelry…”

You shook your head quickly, “No please, go enjoy your evening.”

“Well, if you're so eager to be rid of me,” he teased but smiled. “Come and find me should you need anything (Y/N).”

With that, he was gone and you were left alone with your glass of rose water and a puzzle to unpick.

After a bit more time people-watching in the main ballroom, you picked up your handbag and decided to explore the open rooms of the manor at your own pace. In one room you found a pianoforte which was being played by a younger girl, who would surely have been very good if not for her singing. In another room, two men sat whispering and chuckling to themselves their hands clasped together affectionately. Neither seemed to notice or care about your presence or any other person in the room for that matter, one of the gentlemen leaned in close, cupping the other's face, and planted a sweet loving kiss upon his nose.

You felt flush upon seeing such a private moment of affection and fled the room. Embarrassment fluttered in your chest as you ducked out onto a balcony, blushing you leaned up against a wall. You could not begin to comprehend how you felt, the moment of intimacy burned in your mind. The idea of being so open with the one you love, in such a public space as a ball, regardless of gender.

You sighed and stepped away from the wall and walked along the edge of the overhang, letting the cool mist from the rain that bounced off the stone cool your flush skin. From your handbag, you pulled the handkerchief, its worn threads soothing your piqued nerves.

How strange, you found yourself thinking, that such a small thing could provide such comfort. You closed your eyes and sighed leaning up against one of the Grecian columns letting the soft plip-plop of raindrops on stone, cooled evening air, and the sweet perfume of evening primroses wash over you.

In your thoughts you were there again, the lady gentleman’s hands, gently caressing your injured wrist, her brassy voice tranquil and kind. You could still smell the grass, and feel the warmth of the afternoon sun, yet around the edges, the memory was beginning to fade.

The sound of footsteps brutally yanked you from the echo of your encounter. You stood up straight and turned to face the person who interrupted your reverie.

There stood a lady gentleman, her rich brown hair pulled back into a loose bun and some strands hung loose about her neck and chin, her face was uncovered by a mask allowing you to examine her strong features more thoroughly. She had a strong jaw and a quizzical brow, her stormy gray eyes caught the candlelight and shone like fresh foam on the sea. She was dressed elegantly in a black waistcoat lined with shimmering yellow silk, and her vest was embroidered with all manner of florals and the sign of a snake on the lapel. In her hand, she held your mask, you must've dropped it in your haste.

“Miss, I believe you dropped this,” She approached slowly, her honey-rich voice dripped with concern and something, like confusion. And yet you knew exactly who it was, in all your waking dreams you would know her voice.

She paused steps away from you, quickly examining your form. In the most tender voice, that almost cracked on every syllable, “Dove… is that you…?”

#soma jarlskona #soma jarlskona x reader #ac valhalla #regency au #soma x reader #soma ac valhalla #regency inspired #austen inspired #i hope you caught all the little character references #sorry for the cliffhanger but i am for all intents and purposes evil >:D

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sapphic-woes · 1 year

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A Merchant's Home

A/N: You're a wandering merchant and Soma thinks you should settle down. (With her!) MINORS DNI

Word Count: 6k AO3 Link

___________

You remembered her infectious smile. How the ocean's breeze would make her glimmering hair dance. The waves always reflected her beauty.

You remembered how the moonlight did the same.

You woke up with a sharp jolt, lurching upright. You heaved, body slick with sweat. Again, that nightmare robbed you of what little peace you had. With a sigh you rose, trudging to get your shop ready for the day.

That dream was of memories long ago, a life you could never go back to. Back then you were part of a merchant guild, but now you worked solely alone. Typically, you wandered from city to city, resting for only a moment's time before moving on. However, it had already been a month since you'd come to Grantebridge…

"Opening your doors at the crack of dawn? You're as diligent as always y/n."

…and for some reason, you had a feeling you wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

You looked up with a tight smile, trying not to shrink under the cloudy blue eyes above you. Soma smiled back, though it sent prickles down your spine. The jarlskona of Grantebridge was a terrifying woman, and you wanted nothing to do with her. You'd long since given up attention, and wished to live as a ghost drifting from town to town. However, despite your best efforts you had somehow pritiqued Soma's interest. Politely, you inclined your head.

"You praise me too much, I'm merely grateful to do business here and am returning the favor. Um…" You shuffled to allow her inside, "were you in need of something?"

Soma walked in with heavy steps, a kind of casual saunter as if your shop was her's. Well, she's not wrong. You had come into the city with your usual set up: consisting of all your goods, a pretty tent, and soft rugs. However, after a week Soma suggested you temporarily use a shop that had conveniently recently vacated.

"A cloak. I've worn this one out." With that simple reply you went to work, quickly laying out the highest quality cloaks you had. You hoped she wouldn't catch on that your speed was in hopes that she would leave sooner rather than later, artificially beaming at her.

"As always, I only offer you the best. This here is quite thick–perfect for the upcoming winter. I understand that extravagance isn't to your taste, but this bear hide is both sophisticated and eye catching…" As you spoke, your shoulders gradually relaxed. You were more in your element selling items to her rather than conversing, happy when Soma asked questions about each cloak with a curious gaze.

"And this?" You walked around the table to stand beside her, eyeing the cloak she'd pointed at.

"Ah…you have a good eye. This one was made with materials even I don't know of. I received it from my…partners in Ravensthorpe. Apparently wearing this makes the sound of your movements unnoticeable to your enemies."

Carelessly, you looked up after you spoke, heart nearly stopping when you realized how close Soma was to you. Had you been the one to invade her space, or had she? You didn't know, only able to process the enticing heat of her body.

"Oh, apologies–"

"I think this one will do. It's resourceful, yet beautiful as well." Soma spoke without looking at the cloak, keeping her gaze trained on you. You felt your insides squirm. You knew her words weren't directed at you, and it was foolish to think that it was. Yet for some reason Soma's actions always made you wonder what she exactly thought of you.

"It's perfect for the festival too." Soma continued, nonchalantly turning back at the cloak. "Who knew the duties of a jarlskona would include looking good for important events? If I dress as I normally do, Lif swore he'd make me change himself."

You softly laughed, finding the image amusing, "He's only looking out for you. Appearance can go a long way, especially with newcomers or visitors the festival may bring in." Soma inclined her head.

"He said the same. Hearing it twice means I really must prepare. I admit, I enjoy the grit of battle and the mess that comes along with it but…" Soma smirked, and it was a kind of smile that made your business smile fearfully falter.

"Having my clothes drenched in mead rather than blood can also be enjoyable. Are you going to be enjoying the festival?" Goodness. You didn't know whether to focus on her frightening words or her question. In the end, you hastily folded her cloak, moving to your front desk.

"Me? Oh I, I'm not sure it would be best." Soma raised her eyebrow, fishing out her coin pouch.

"May I ask why?" You knew the may was simply courtesy. Soma didn't ever just ask for things. You glanced up at her before quickly answering.

"I just. Well I'm an outsider that got here a month ago. To participate in a tradition you all hold dear–"

"That's no matter. Any customs you don't know about you can ask. No one will get mad at you for not knowing things while I'm there." You blinked, scrambling to understand. Did that mean Soma intended to stick by your side the entirety of the festival?

"Oh no, I wouldn't want to be a burden–"

"I'm offering, so it's not a burden."

"But during a festival it would be good for business if I kept the shop open–"

"I'll be wearing a cloak from your shop. Once people know who I bought it from, they'll line up for days just to buy something from you."

"But…" you paused, biting the inside of your lip. You couldn't think of a reason not to go, and with a small sigh you nodded. "I suppose going to the festival wouldn't hurt. Thank you for being so kind as to go with me." Soma slyly smiled, eyes gleaming. While her gaze was bright with excitement, it also had something else you couldn't identify. You only knew it made you acutely aware of how her eyes trailed over your body, nervously fiddling with your hands.

"The pleasure's all mine. You're important to me y/n." With that she left, and once you were certain she was gone, you deflated against your desk. You knew she meant you were important for business, but Soma had a knack of leaving out details in her words. She always sounded so ambiguous, and it didn't help that she was easy to use sweet words.

Get a grip. This is just another city you're passing by. You couldn't get attached, not again. With a grumbling sigh you went back to work, trying not to think about Soma for the rest of the day.

—

You'd loved her. You'd cherished her. You'd adored her more than anyone else.

The moonlight had made her treacherous smile glow. You thought her beauty then was cruel. A wilting desire. You'd loved her, and yet…

She'd betrayed you.

"What do you think y/n? Is it a good deal?" You snapped out of your daydream, looking over at Soma. Your brain worked to remember the deal itself, shaking your head as though to get the memories distracting your thoughts out.

"As good as any. It'll be smart to have items made with such craftsmanship sold here. It's one of a kind and people will travel here just for it. All he asks for is protection, and what's taking care of a few bandits to the great Jarlskona of Grantebridge?"

Why you were sitting in a room in the longhouse six months after arriving to this city, you didn't know. You used to rarely stay more than a month in one given place, yet here you were, tipping your glass back to gulp down mead as you and Soma conversed. Somehow, your interactions with Soma had steadily grown more frequent as you stayed in Grantebridge. It was fun to talk to her, however, you always left each conversation with something different.

The change was small at first. A promise to meet again instead of simply bidding goodbye. A habit of waving rather than rushing past Soma whenever you saw her. An exchange of small, yet meaningful talks from time to time. Then the change involved casually voicing opinions on matters of Grantebridge to her. After that, somehow those opinions began to be voiced in rooms full of just Soma's closest confidants.

Before you knew it, you were practically in charge of helping Soma with trade in Grantebridge, and leaving was becoming more of a fantasy than reality.

"I thought so as well. A chance to wet my axe and gain a person with valuable skills?" Soma's eyes narrowed in a conniving grin, tipping her own cup back. You snorted, no longer completely shook by Soma's thirst for battle. It still irked you how much she relished in the blood and gore of fighting, but now at least, you didn't immediately want to run for the hills because of it.

"So restless. Will you march out at the crack of dawn?" Soma only shrugged.

"Perhaps." You raised an eyebrow.

"What's this? You always tell me of your battle plans–even if I don't understand them." You emptied your cup with a tipsy grin, pouring more for yourself out of habit.

"I'm simply waiting for something…" Soma watched you drink in amusement, regarding your flushed face with a lopsided smile, "but you never understood them?" Your jarlskona mockingly tsked before sternly shaking her head.

"That won't do. Come here, let me at least explain the basics to you." To your surprise, Soma shifted, turning towards you in her chair and patting her thighs. Was she serious? You blinked, glancing at the paper she'd used to scribble down ideas as you two had talked. Now she flipped it over to reveal the blank side, looking at you expectedly.

Oh. She's serious. You blamed it on the mead. It was much too strong for you, making you obediently wobble over to Soma with your cup in your hand. You plopped down on her thighs with a giggle, letting her hands rest at your hips.

"You listened without a single complaint. How cute." Soma said the words easily, and it took a moment for you to grow embarrassed by them. By then, Soma had scooted closer to the table so that she could write on the paper. It made the little space you had between each other shrink, and you grew hot as the warrior holding you in her lap spoke.

"So this here is…" You weren't really listening, too focused on the sound of her deep, velvet voice. How it rasped and pleasantly rumbled against your back. The heat of her body was nice. Her smell too. Earthy and fresh as the morning dew.

You liked how she seemed to shield you with her body. How her thigh felt under your legs. Her fingers moved hypnotically. First on the paper in front of your eyes, then slowly at your sides. They danced all the way up to your jaw, and only then did you realize your breaths had grown heavy, letting Soma guide you to turn around in her lap, gaze meeting her own.

"Love," since when had she been calling you that? You didn't know, shuddering as her fingers teasingly brushed over your ear. "Have you been listening?"

"Hmn…" You let out a meek noise, mumbling softly. "A little bit."

Soma's deep chuckle was intoxicating. Her eyes were dark and greedy, drinking in your pink cheeks and hooded gaze. Her grip on your waist tightened–

Wait, was she always holding me like this?

"Seems I need to be stricter with you." You squeaked as she brought you flush against her chest, arms completely wrapping around your waist. Your own hands gripped her broad shoulders, surprised when her face was mere inches away from you.

"St-strict…?" You feebly spoke, unsure if you'd heard her right. However, in response Soma's face twisted in a way you'd never seen before, leaning closer until her lips almost brushed against yours.

"Mhm. Do you know how badly I've wanted you? All I've dreamt about is taking you selfishly. Little by little, without any restraint until the crack of dawn…" Her blunt words made your heat throb, and you gasped as she ground her thigh against it.

Soma watched you tremble from her movements, barely restraining herself. You were so pretty like this, and your jarlskona just wanted to fuck you up more–till you were an utter mess beyond repair.

I pity her. Soma thought to herself. You were like a rare butterfly she'd pinned to a wall, and she had no intention of letting you go. You made her insatiable, and Soma had nearly gone mad the past few months wanting you. However, you were so cautious, too cautious, and the Jarlskona knew a single wrong step would make you run away. So she kept calm and played nice. She'd tucked away her vulgar desires to approach you, and now?

"S-Soma…" At your pleading call of her name, Soma's lips twisted into a crooked smile, not one to keep her pretty doll waiting.

"I'm right here, love. Hush, don't whine now. I'm going to make you feel just right."

—

You'd promised yourself to never trust another soul. To live as if you were dead. You told yourself that it was better than being hurt again, and that you would grow used to the loneliness. So…why?

Why couldn't you refuse her warmth?

You woke up content.

It smelled good. The furs were soft, tickling your skin as you buried yourself deeper into your bed. Somehow, there was more space available to sprawl out than usual, and oddly enough, you hadn't worn on a single piece of clothing to sleep…

Fuck.

You shot up, gasping in horror. This wasn't your bedroom, but you recognized who it belonged to. Why were you in Soma's room, naked? What had happened last night? There was the usual conversation…a few more drinks than you'd like to admit…and then…?

Your cheeks burned, vaguely remembering how Soma had decided to "teach" you last night. Your ass still stung from the weight of her palm, and the redness surely wouldn't fade in a day. Frantically, you scurried about to change into your crumbled clothing, gasping as you realized your legs were sore as well.

She really did whatever she wanted, no matter how much I begged…suddenly you slapped your cheeks, hot with fluster. Forget it. Forget it. Shit–just forget about everything that happened!

You couldn't think about it, at least, not if you didn't want to die of heatstroke. Once your clothes were back on, you pressed your ear against the door, making sure it was quiet before slipping out. Quickly, you all but ran out the longhouse, relieved when you didn't run into anyone.

However, once at the entrance your heart nearly stopped.

"It was a quick battle, not nearly a challenge." Soma gruffly spoke as she got off her horse, wiping blood from her cheek as she removed her gloves. As she informed her drengers of her latest battle, her eyes shifted, focusing on you. Her eyebrow raised in amusement, tracing over your body as if impressed you'd managed to stand, let alone walk. Immediately you looked away, blushing a dark red as you heard her chuckle.

"Y/N." Your instinct to run far, far away from Soma was back in full force, making you jolt and fretfully look back up at her. Her impassive smile only made you more worried, because despite appearing so relaxed, her eyes…

"Did you sleep well? Apologies for keeping you up so late, I know you like to open your shop early." Those cloudy blue irises were predatory, full of crackling lightning ready to strike. Surely, her desire would burn through even your toughest walls, and you shivered, dipping your head down.

"Yes, but there's nothing to apologize for. I was probably not myself too, so please forget if I did anything unsightly–!" You cut yourself off, stuttering as Soma walked right up to you.

"Unsightly? I don't remember anything like that happening, so there's no need for that y/n…" Soma was covered in crimson, with the cold air making her breaths turn to smoke before you. The visible wisps of air mixed with your own as she whispered just for you to hear.

"I won't forget, and even if you do…I'll be more than happy to help remind you." Oh God. You couldn't speak, watching her stare trail down to study your faltering lips. When her eyes darkened, you all but flinched, hastily speaking.

"I-I, then excuse me! Um, I need to, the shop, I n-need to open my shop! I-I'm late…" The entire time you fumbled, Soma patiently listener, lips spreading into a smug smile at your shyness. To your relief, your jarlskona let you go with a nonchalant wave.

"Of course. Run along then." Somehow her bidding goodbye made you more embarrassed than the entire conversation, heart stammering in your chest as you gladly obeyed.

—

You had decided leaving Grantebridge was back on the table, and avoiding Soma was a must. However, it quickly became clear that Soma would do anything not to let either happen. The more you tried not to think of her, the more she did things to invade your mind.

Passing by her in the hallway resulted in being pressed against the wall, startled as she suddenly insisted on speaking to you. Her voice would be an enticing murmur, informing you about trade deals while her fingers brushed over your waist. Mockingly, she'd ask if you were paying attention solely to watch you stutter–and God, did your stomach twist something awful under her sensual stare.

Soma's morning visits to your shop became more frequent…and with her being the only customer that early, full of thick, burning tension. Standing to push a heavy sword onto a top shelf would be her invitation to help you from behind, with a lax smile and pleasant gaze. A mutter of just leave it to me darling was enough to make your cheeks brighten and rush to escape–claiming that you needed to do other work. Her casual, yet suggestive way of speaking to you even in public had you biting your bottom lip in the midst of others, trying not to show her or them how much Soma affected you.

How long could this go on? Everyday felt like a game of cat and mouse, and you worried that being aware of her advances still wasn't enough. Soma was an exciting indulgence, yet you knew she was also dangerous. Not because of her own power, but because of what she made you feel…

…and you of all people knew how blinding love could be.

"How about attacking here? If we wish to cripple our enemies, I know this is an important trade route." You forced yourself out of your thoughts to speak, pointing down at the map before you. Being a part of Soma's inner circle meant helping to devise battle plans, and while it wasn't in your expertise, you suggested ideas whenever you could.

Soma was pacing around the table. Your jarlskona was the kind of person that couldn't stand still while strategizing, growing too heated for that. However, suddenly her voice was hoarse against your ear, and her rough hands laid themselves out on the table, trapping you on both sides as she looked over your shoulder.

"That could work. We can choke the river and rid them of trade." Her voice dipped down into a whisper.

"Seems my lesson worked after all. Good job." Soma's praise made your legs turn to jello. To add fuel to the fire, deviously she pushed her thigh between your legs, keeping her face nonchalant. The light weight of her chest pressing against your back was intoxicating, and you wished she would simply lose it. Throw caution to the wind. Do what you knew she had been hungry for since that night. To bend you over and hold you down, to thrust her–

"Lif, your thoughts?" As quickly as she came close to you, she left, returning to her usual pacing as if nothing happened. You blinked, dumbly staring down at your finger still on the map. She'd done it again, and so easily this time. Could you even call this a fight? Soma didn't seem to think so, because at the end of the meeting the jarlskona dismissed everyone from the meeting…

…well, everyone but you.

"You're so stiff, like when we first met." The cup of mead in your hands was full, and this time you intended to keep it that way.

"Was I? I hardly remember." This idle chatter was suffocating. You didn't know how Soma thrived in it. You both sat at your usual place in the longhouse, a small room not far from Soma's bedroom. This room had created many warm memories for the both of you, but now the atmosphere was unbearably cold. Soma smiled, sipping from her cup as if the events of before weren't branded into her mind.

"You shook like a leaf, yet insisted that if I let you sell your goods in Grantebridge it would benefit me. You were a Saxon woman without a home, no friends or allies…just a tiny little thing determined to prove her worth." Soma chuckled to herself, looking up from her drink to focus her gaze on you.

"Who knew you would be like this? You have connections that span across the world. Amazing goods I've never seen before. You've more than proved your worth, and became a powerful ally and precious friend. And yet…" Soma's eyes darkened, and you swallowed. Her gaze stripped you bare. You hated that you didn't mind it, cheeks hot as she muttered.

"You're still afraid of me. Tell me y/n, who was it? Who made you wander alone? Who…" You sucked in a sharp breath.

"There's no one. I just prefer to travel alone." Even you knew that was a shitty lie. Soma frowned, setting down her cup. To your surprise, she strided from her seat toward you.

"Wh-what are you–"

"Did you think I didn't notice? How you stare at me every chance you get. Yet when I do approach, you draw an invisible line I cannot cross. You fear something when you're with me, something I cannot control. Love…"

Soma's coarse palm caressed your cheek, and the depth of her gaze held you in place. Your heart was a war drum. Your chest felt tight. Her hand was gentle against the back of your neck, bringing you close to whisper inches away from your face.

"Who made you so scared to be loved? If they still live I'll deal with them. Offer their head to you on a silver platter. Will you then understand?" Soma's words made butterflies flutter in your stomach. Her breath tickled your skin, lips gingerly pressing against the corners of your eyes, your cheeks, the edge of your trembling lips…ah, I can't resist her any longer.

It was a losing battle. No matter what, it would have always ended up like this. You sniffled as Soma held your face in the cups of her hands, a delicate touch masking the greed of a viper. When did she make it so hard to push her away? Her carnal gaze held you tight. It scared you as much as it pulled you in. I'm a fool. You knew the damage love could do. You knew the pain. Soma would break your heart just like before, leave you alone and hurting–

Firmly, Soma spoke while keeping the focus of your glossy, tear-filled eyes on her, breaking down your last feeble line of defense.

"You don't need to keep running away like this. You don't need to be afraid anymore. I love you, y/n, and I'll never hurt you. So please, let Grantebridge be your home."

Tears spilled before you could even process her declaration, and Soma held you to her chest as you sobbed. From the start, you had wanted her to say those kind words to you, yet feared what would happen once you'd heard them. There was no turning back now. You couldn't escape, and yet…

Despite the fear, you offered a small nod back to Soma, voice cracking through the silence of the room.

"I would love to, Soma."

—

Perhaps she would never actually hurt you, but she would be mean.

Large hands pinned yours down to the surface of the table. Soma's kiss was dirty, carnal in nature yet devastatingly sweet. How had you gone so long without this? The power in her touch was dizzying. The growl against your plush skin thrilled you. The clink of her belt made your heart jump, and you swallowed as Soma leaned back, holding the leather in her hands.

"Hands out love." She said the calm sentence with her figure looming above you. You shivered under her intimidating gaze, meekly holding them out. Soma cooed with a soft smile, tying your hands together.

"Always so obedient. As if you already know what will happen if you aren't…" Her words sparked anticipation into the air. You let her hold your bound wrists to the table, curious about what she'd do next. Soma rustled her free hand in her pockets, and your eyes widened when she pulled out a knife.

"S-Soma–" You held your breath as the flat side of the dagger lightly pressed against your cheek. Sweetly, Soma hushed your fretful protests, smiling gently as she spoke.

"Hush darling. I told you I would never hurt you. I simply need to cut through these pesky clothes. So hold still for me love." Her kind manner of speaking greatly contradicted the fervent lust in her eyes, watching you heave under the weight of her knife. Carefully, Soma trailed the weapon down, cutting your clothes inch by inch.

"There, just like that. You're doing so well for me baby…" Soma comforted you just as much as she teased you, cutting down the middle of your chest. The cool metal against your skin never cut through, but every time you felt it might, your breath hitched and you went still–heart skipping a beat. You were so concentrated on the knife, you didn't notice how your reactions spurred Soma on. You grew wet yourself, and despite the terror, you were desperate for more.

"Beautiful…" Soma breathed as she finally cut through your top, exposing your breasts to the open air. She traced the flat side of her knife over the curves of your breasts and waist, adoring how your skin trembled.

"Like this, I'll hold the one who hurt you down. Let them know that their life is in my hands." Soma traced the edge of her knife over your quivering throat, voice a deep murmur.

"Slowly, I'll make sure they feel the same pain you did until now. They may beg, but I won't allow them the painless death they desire." You sucked in a breath when the tip of her dagger rested at your still clothed thighs. You didn't know how she was so skillful, but Soma carefully cut through your pants until you were as bare as you felt before her.

Soma kissed the inside of your thigh, and it felt like a vow. Her rough palms gripped your flesh, holding you steady. You were growing weak to her will, and she hadn't even gotten to the main course yet. Soma's eyes cast down to your sodden cunt, then back up into your eyes. Oh.

She wants to ruin me. The possessiveness she kept at bay for so long was clear as day to you now. Her insatiable greed was overwhelming. You realized now how controlled she had been. How much she'd restrained herself around you. All of it had unraveled in a single moment, and now, you were staring at a woman you could only describe as hungry.

"You poor thing." Soma's breath against your dewy folds made you jolt. You didn't know if the comment was about how wet you were, or how helpless you were in this position. Either way, you weren't given time to find out. Sharply, you gasped as Soma pressed her tongue flat against your heat, indulging herself in your taste.

You writhed, choking at Soma's ravenous movements. Her hands gripping your thighs dug deep into your plush flesh, unwavering despite your squirming. Soma's tongue moved to make you weak, gruffly chuckling at your sensitive reactions. The vibrations of her voice against your folds was damning, sending tingles of sweet ecstasy throughout your entire body. You clung to the table fruitlessly, moaning with reckless abandon.

"Soma wait, it's too–!" Your whines only spurred her on, determined to make your voice hoarse. Her tongue pushed in deeper, pleased at the way you back arched and quivered. You were at the mercy of her tongue's sinful strokes, limbs abruptly twitching as her lips wrapped around your sensitive bud.

"I c-can't, please, I'm gonna–!" Your pleas fell on deaf ears. Soma wanted to see your body convulse from the pleasure she gave you, and she got her wish. Her onslaught against your trembling pearl proved too much for you, and with a cry you were pushed over the edge. Waves of ecstasy fell over you, rocking your body as you came. All the while Soma drank the sweet evidence of your peak, lips wet as she pulled away. She licked what remained of you off her mouth as she rose, smiling down at your heaving form.

"Tired already?" Your jarlskona tsked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. Soma moved to finally strip herself, removing her top before beginning to pull down her pants…

"That won't do. How are you ever going to take this?" Your eyes widened when you realized Soma had a strap on. Had she been wearing that the entire time? Did that mean she–?

You blushed, hot to the point that you swore you were melting. Soma had anticipated that this night would end up like this. She had chased and cornered you until the perfect moment to strike. Soma's lips lifted up, and her lustful stare made you shiver. She knew damn well where your thoughts were, and she didn't bother to deny it. Every movement of hers had been calculated from the start, and now she finally had her prize in her hands.

"Are you scared? Apologies, love." You squeaked as Soma gripped your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the table, aligning your dripping cunt with her strap. "But frankly, you have no idea how much I want you right now. To see your cute face begging for my cock…"

You gasped as Soma slowly eased her strap inside of you, feeling it deliciously stretch your tight heat apart. Soma bit her bottom lip, watching as she slowly filled you up. She loved the way your body trembled all over, finding each twitch and jolt intoxicating. Your breathless little noises were so satisfying, but in all honesty?

She wanted to hear you scream.

You choked back a sob as suddenly Soma roughly thrust halfway through, filling you up to the brim. She dragged the toy back out, slowly so that you felt it all, and then she plunged it all back into you again–grinning from ear to ear as you writhed and whimpered underneath her.

"Mhm…I hear you baby…you're so beautiful like this." Her gentle words did nothing to mask the brutality of her actions. Her relentless rhythm and overwhelming strength had you holding onto the table for some kind of relief, pleading with her to slow down. However, Soma only ground her hips inside you deeper, voice a sadistic drawl as she abused your heat.

"Hm? I can't quite understand you, love. Perhaps you should use your words?" Your senseless babbling amused Soma, ramming the strap particularly deep just to watch your breasts bounce and tears fall like diamonds. You tried to comply with her ridiculous request, hardly able to take a breath as you spoke.

"I..S-So..plea…" It was hopeless, and the both of you knew it. Soma only wanted to watch you struggle through her goading thrusts, happy when your dazed eyes and drooling lips mustered up the frailest plea. Your croaking voice was divine, and she relished in the state she had brought you to.

"I can't quite–" Soma grunted as she drove her strap into you, droplets of sweat flicking off her arms as she smirked. "–make out your words. One more time baby. Try again for me?" Your whine made her chuckle, and she shifted to lift you up off the table.

"H-huh? No, wait–!" You thought you saw stars. Soma easily held your body up with her hands, fingers sinking into your ass. Calmly, she let gravity help her to drive her dick up to the hilt inside of you, smiling as you struggled to breath before her.

"You won't? I didn't think you were such a naughty girl…" You sobbed as she bounced you up and down on her strap, face inches from yours. Joyfully, she watched you become a blubbering mess from her handiwork. She rammed into you without restraint, making your cunt gush and drip onto the floor below. Quickly you mustered up another attempt, looking into her lustful gaze with blurry vision.

"Plea…ge..gen–" You were cut off when she filled you up once again, jolting as pleasure sparked throughout your body. She was never going to give me a chance, was she?

"How cute…" Your reward for your efforts was debatable. Soma soothed you with soft praises, calling your crying face adorable. She kissed your tears only to push deeper into you, causing more to fall down your face. She calmly told you to hold onto her back for support, yet didn't bother to slow her pace even once. By the end of it, you felt numb and delirious–only able to shudder and moan as she brought your peak once again.

You could hardly register the pop of her strap finally letting your abused hole rest, thighs slick with your pleasure. Happily, Soma hummed as she made sure to wipe your dazed form down and tuck you into her bed before getting cleaned up herself.

Soma eyed the marks on her back in the mirror, pleased with what she saw. She had, quite frankly, fucked you till her hearts content, and even she was tired. However, she was undoubtedly satisfied, finding the last few months chipping away at your defenses worth it. With a soft smile at your sleeping face, your jarlskona climbed into bed and pulled you close, letting herself drift to sleep beside her lover.

#soma x reader #soma jarlskona #soma ac valhalla #ac valhalla #i dunno if this depiction of soma is ok but lets just say i spiraled :)#soma of grantebridge

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