synopsis; as time slips on, you find your affections for the crown prince growing by the day. you can only hope love will come with time... leon however, has already found this love
content warnings; harsh language ; fantasy violence ; heavy misogyny ; lots of dragon action ; some valenfield (jill & claire) for the girlies ; some dual pov ; light smut ; mentions of masturbation (m) ; leon is down bad
story notes; as usual, dancing with our hands tied takes place in a fantasy medieval & renaissance time period. there are themes such as fantasy and war violence, sexuality, sexual violence, and misogyny in the chapters. please read with caution if any of these topics are triggering to you
author's notes; cannot believe i got this one out so soon. writing has currently been my escape from work stress, so that might be why. anyway, hope you all enjoy this installment. leon is... special in this one. give him some grace, he in love <3
word count; 5.09k
now playing; war of hearts ; ruelle
series masterlist | previous part | next part
Days bled together in the Palais du Levallon. The grand halls became a maze, endless corridors and alcoves. Doors that lead to different galleries, new sections of the gardens, dozens of banquet halls and audience chambers. But, your favorite place to be was the fountain. A grand porcelain stone fountain in the very center of the upper gardens. It was at the very top of a hill, overlooking the expanse of the hedges and flowers and trees. But the sole reason it was your favorite, was it looked over the training grounds near the dragon stables.
The dragons were brought out several times a day – early in the morning just after dawn to be fed and spread their wings, again for a mid morning feeding and grooming by trainers, once in the early afternoon just after luncheon for their own afternoon snacks, then in early evening for more rigorous training and flying with their riders, and one last time just after dusk for dinner. Each of these times, the Crown Prince would appear.
He was always groggy in the morning, his steps slower as he approached Shirsos, her large snout nuzzling into his chest. By mid morning, he was more awake and alert. He would take over a few aspects of grooming, slipping treats to his dragon when the trainers weren't looking. In the early afternoon, he seemed to be the most alert. In the early evening, he would approach the grounds in full riding leathers, slipping a silver helmet over his head and mounting the dragon. Leon always stayed in the sky the longest, he always seemed the most free there. By just after dusk, he would come by and usher Shirsos into her stall for the night. The Crown Prince’s days were entwined with freedoms you could never have.
These were the best parts of your days. Spending your hours watching the dragons. Never before had you yearned to be a part of this lifestyle. To ride a dragon. But now? Now, you did. There was an ache that had settled in the deepest pit of your chest. One that no amount of food or wine or afternoons in the sun could fill. It was a pit of loneliness.
The past few weeks had been spent selecting your ladies in waiting. All of noble blood – whether by birth or marriage, it did not seem to matter – and high station. Cousins of the Kennedy family, wives of political figures, sisters to the Queen’s ladies. There were dozens to choose from. The Queen aided you in your choice of filling these spots. And after many days, which melted into weeks, your ladies were chosen.
You had three; ladies of high station and noble blood. Claire, of House Redfield whose brother, Chris, was one of Prince Leon’s political attendants. She caught your attention with her fiery spirit and sharp tongue. Ashley, of House Graham whose father was King in a neighboring country, had sent her to this land to assist her in learning her duties as Crown Princess. And finally, Rebecca, of House Chambers. She was the lowest ranking by blood. A daughter of a lower nobleman, Baron Chambers, who won favor with the King in the Great War decades ago. These ladies were your gods given solace in the time you spent in the Palais du Levallon.
Each followed you nearly everywhere you went. Assisting you in dressing in the mornings, attending breakfast, walking through the palace, sitting in the gardens, afternoon teas in your parlor. The only times they were separated from your presence, was at dinner, and when you slept. Though they were in a room connected to your chambers. Though, that would change once you and Leon were married and would share bedchambers. For now though, they were your closest companions.
There were many rumors surrounding each of your ladies, each one worse than the last. It was whispered Rebecca was not the legitimate child of Baron Chambers, which was preposterous as she was the spitting image of her father. There was talk that Ashley was banished from her father’s kingdom, which was untrue as it came since she wrote letters to her family weekly. And it was said – loudly, in fact – that Claire held no attraction for men. Which did not bother you in the slightest. It was the only rumor that rang true. Only, no one could know it was. Not because of her attraction to the female sex. No, there were plenty of lords and ladies who had lovers of the same gender. But it was who she loved.
The only female night under the King’s guard was Jill Valentine. She had earned her title of Kingsguard with her blood, sweat, and tears. She fought man after man, soldier after soldier. She was strong and capable and the most loyal knight the Kennedy family had to offer. And she was Claire’s lover. It was secret. Marriage between a noble and a knight was never approved. The knight always lost their position, and the noble was always stripped of their title. It was the way things worked. And Claire was ready to risk it all, but Jill refused to put her lover in that position.
Afternoon teas and leisurely strolls were filled with tales of Claire’s escapades with her knight. This saga was the main source of your entertainment. She was lovelorn. Although, at least her love was mutual. Not everyone was so lucky. You were not so lucky. You could not be sure it was love you felt for Leon yet. There was affection, of course. A strong feeling of attraction growing that you could no longer ignore. A yearning deep seated in your chest that grew bigger by the day.
There were not enough hours in the day to spend with your betrothed. There was breakfast in the late morning. Though that was quiet, small talk shared between the two of you. It was pleasant. That was all. And dinner was always a loud and crowded affair. The King and Queen and all nobles who resided in the palace attended. There was music and laughter and it was far too loud for you to have the ability to bond properly with your betrothed. Leon would occasionally make a brief appearance during tea in your parlor. Hands clasped behind his back, looking painfully awkward as he bowed and smiled and your ladies whispered. Not unkind whispers, but they whispered. You wished he had more of his time to devote to you.
Perhaps the strongest of your feelings, where the feelings of embarrassment at your growing resentment toward his dragon, Shirsos. It was ridiculous, you had told your ladies over and over, to be jealous of a dragon. But, Leon devoted hours of his days to her. Awoke early to see her, visited at every meal, said goodnight to her. He bid you goodbye after dinner. Your ladies reassured you these feelings were normal. Nothing to be ashamed of. But you hated the way you felt.
It had been a balmy warm afternoon as you and your ladies walked through the upper gardens toward your usual spot by the grand fountain. Rebecca swung a basket full of your afternoon tea foods, Claire was prattling on about her knight again, and Ashley was swept up in the tales as usual. You had a particular longing in your chest that day, a sadness that would not relent. You laid down a blanket on the grassy hill, flopping down rather dramatically with a heavy sigh. Your ladies exchanged glances but did not speak.
The four of you sipped warm tea and chewed on sweet cakes and pastries as you chatted. You had many questions for your ladies, what was expected of you as the Crown Prince's betrothed, if you were to be involved in any political schemes. What your life would be like as a wife. You feared your expectations. You knew you would be expected to bear Leon’s children. To bring forth an heir to the throne. That idea terrified you. Having children. What if you were not a good mother? What if your children hated you? What if you died in childbirth? Your ladies did their best to comfort you. Though it was mostly in vain.
They purposefully skirted around such topics today. Claire dramatically told you all of her latest late night meeting with Jill. Despite Ashley’s gasps, Claire spared no details. She was in the middle of recounting how well the knight could use her mouth, when you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. You all looked up at once to see Leon. He stood a few feet away, smiling politely, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were locked on you.
“My ladies. Princess.” He bowed his head, eyes never leaving you. “I was hoping I could steal away my betrothed for a while. If you would let me.”
Your heart lurched – as it always seemed to do around him these days. Your eyes found the faces of your ladies, all exchanging glances and smiles before they looked back to you. Claire spoke first. “Of course, your highness.”
Leon nodded once, eyes locked on yours as he stepped forward, holding out a hand to assist you in standing. You took it, gloved hand slipping against his palm. You could feel the warmth of his skin through the silky fabric of your glove. He gingerly pulled you up, his strength always surprising you. You dusted off the back skirts of your dress, dropping his hand and folding your own in front of you. Silently, you looked to your ladies. None of which made a move to stand. Oh, this was a solo journey. With Rufus, of course.
“Follow me, princess.” Leon said softly, nodding toward one of the paths in the upper garden. You obeyed, looking over your shoulder at your ladies one last time before following Leon as he walked down the path.
“I hear you enjoy watching the dragons,” you heard Leon say, your head looking up to see him staring at you again.
“Yes, your highness.” You nodded – you always seemed to forget you were on a first name basis with the prince.
“Do they interest you? The dragons, I mean.” He asked, offering his arm to you as you walked.
“They do,” you nodded again, looping your arm in his, hand resting on his forearm. “Very much so.”
Leon smiled, a singular nod of his head as he continued to walk you through the gardens. He led you out of them and up a stone path that led directly to the dragon’s training grounds. Your brows furrowed, hesitation creeping into your chest. You were in no way prepared to be there. Or properly dressed for that matter.
“Seeing as the dragons interest you, I thought it would be fit to show you.” He said, guiding you to the main building where the dragons were stabled.
You had already seen the stables, but not the training grounds. Nonetheless, you followed him in. That smell hitting you once more – the blood, the sulfur, the ash and smoke. It was strong and made your nose scrunch up. You supposed it was a scent you would become accustomed to someday. Leon led you through the stables, pausing once he arrived at Shirsos’ pen. He opened the gate and stepped in.
Hesitation still crept into your bones, despite having previously met the dragon and passed her test. Either way, you waited outside the pen until Leon instructed you otherwise. It was a few moments later he emerged, guiding Shirsos by a leather band that was attached to the harness at her chest. You stepped back and aside, making room for the massive creature.
“Greet our princess, Shirsos.” Leon nodded toward you, smiling between you and the dragon. The word ‘our’ sent an embarrassing sting in your chest that you fought hard to ignore.
The dragon - which seemed to instantly recognize you. She let out a deep puff of air and leaned forward, her snout bumping the space of your dress right below your chest. A deep rumble sounded from her, sending low and pleasant vibrations through your body. There was a moment of fear driven hesitation before you lifted your hand, patting her on the snout. This seemed to very much please Shirsos.
“Did I not say she was fond of you?” Leon smiled. His smile. Warmer than the sun and brighter than any precious gemstone on the earth. “Come with me, princess.”
You obeyed, walking beside him as he guided Shirsos through the stables and out into the training area. The sun beat down on the dusty ground, your eyes taking a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness. He led the dragon to the middle of the grounds, stopping to tie off the leather band to a stone spire. He turned toward you.
“Would you like to feed her? Or groom her, maybe?” The prince questioned, catching you completely off guard.
Feeding and grooming a dragon was an intimate and bonding process between dragon and rider. Of course trainers would assist or step in when the rider was unavailable. But this? This was unheard of. It was an honor that was rarely offered. And you would be about stupid not to take it.
“I- yes.” You nodded, not daring to decline Leon’s offer. Though you hadn't the faintest clue of how to do either of those things.
“Very well, princess.” Leon nodded, holding out his hand for you once more. You took it, allowing him to guide you back just back inside the stable. “Shirsos is of the age where we use iron wire brushes to remove decaying or dead scales. The trainers tend to her teeth, but she rather enjoys being brushed.”
You nodded along to Leon’s explanation as if you understood – which you did not. But you listened anyway. He handed you a small basket, beginning to pile supplies in it as you held it by the handle.
“Shirsos receives a bath once a week in the lake just south of the palace. In the meantime, we wipe her down with rags and tonic water to soothe her scales and muscles. She enjoys that as well.” You betrothed continued to explain to you.
“I see.” You nodded, holding the basket and following him as he led you back outside onto the grounds. “And you perform these duties?”
“As often as I am able, yes.”
You nodded, a small hum sounding in your throat as you stopped a few feet away from the dragon. There was no inkling in your brain of where or how to start. You looked to Leon, who was patting Shirsos on her neck as he turned to look at you.
“Start with the iron wire brush.” He gently instructed, nodding his head toward the basket.
You obeyed; setting down the basket and picking up the brush, you approached the dragon. It was difficult not to be fearful or hesitant of her presence. She was a dragon, after all, an apex predator. She had no beast nor species to fear. She was fear itself. That purred when you pet her.
Leon smiled at you – gods, that warmth and shine from a single expression was enough to make you dizzy – as you approached, careful and hesitant. You placed a hand to her shoulder, making your presence and touch known before you gently began to brush her scales. Shirsos’ reaction was immediate. She seemed to relax, to melt into your touch as you brushed away any grime and dirt from her scales. A few dull or dead scales fell onto the dusty earth at your feet. Leon was right, the dragon did enjoy this.
You continued on for a while, brushing the dragon. She puffed and purred and her feline eyes slipped closed after a while. You found you enjoyed it too. Tending to the dragon. Having Leon’s gaze on you. It took you a bit of time to notice, but he had been staring at you nearly the entire time. His eyes watching, his lips twitching upwards in the faintest of smiles. It made you feel warm. A spark striking in your chest that bloomed into a small flame. It made you nervous, hesitant, hot.
Your hands smoothed over where you brushed, and before your eyes, a scale fell. It caught your eye as it fell to your feet and you did not hesitate to bend down and pick it up. The blood red tint shimmered in the afternoon sun, the surface glimmered in your palm, your thumb soothing over the smooth texture. It caught the rays of the sun, almost iridescent from certain angles. You stared at it, shocked at the singular drop of a dragon’s armor in the palm of your hand.
“It happens,” Leon spoke gently, his voice causing you to look up and meet his gaze. “Scales fall off. It means they are no longer able to protect her. There are many more in its place. This is natural.”
“Does it hurt her?” You asked dumbly.
“No, it does not.” He shook his head, stepping forward until he was standing before you. “It is like a strand of hair falling from your head. Or an eyelash on your cheek. It is not painful to her.”
You nodded, eyes drifting back down to the scale in your hand. It was almost like a ruby – bloodred with that shimmer that made your chest squeeze. Dragon scales were rare and priceless. They had a high demand on the market. Both in your country and others. There were legends of luck that a dragon scale could bring. Deep sleep if tucked under your pillow at night, fortune in romance if worn in the presence of a lover, good health if it was around your neck while you cooked or ate. You knew that these legends were likely untrue. But you had never seen a scale in person.
“You may keep it, princess.” Leon said suddenly and softly.
Your head snapped up to meet his gaze again. “I can?”
He nodded, “of course. It serves her no purpose any longer. And, it seems to make you happy.”
Leon said the last part of his statement almost nervously. Like it was something he should whisper. The statement made heat crawl up your neck and face. It had not previously occurred to you that Leon could be concerned with your happiness. Though, maybe it should have. Typically, ladies in waiting were stationed after the wedding. You had so much freedom around the palace and the grounds. You had been given many dresses and jewelry, and reading materials. And until just then, it had never come to your mind that it may have all been Leon. Your eyes drifted up to look at him once again. Your betrothed, your prince.
“I would like that very much, Leon”
Leon’s days were now filled with you. Conversations in political meetings of you, his mother discussing you, dinners and breakfast with you, the portrait in the hall of you and him, thoughts and dreams of you. It was all you.
You – a princess from northern lands. With a pretty smile and beautiful eyes and a kind smile. He had yet to know what your real personality was like, or if you were any different behind closed doors than you were at banquets and balls. His mother had decided you were as prim and proper as they came. With your perfect bows and soft words and impeccable manners. Hell, most of the time you still referred to him as “your highness” despite his encouragement on a first name basis. Though he was no better, he still called you “princess”.
Leon was in misery. He had always had a sort of void in his chest that could only be filled with the freedom of flying the skies with Shirsos. But now? Those flights did nothing. Only your smile, your smell, your presence could even begin to fill it. How he longed for you. Which was a preposterous notion seeing as you were his betrothed and he hardly knew you. He had shared all of two dances with you. Two dances, three weeks of dinners and breakfasts, one portrait session, and one outing to the stables. Well, now it was two.
The night of his taking you to the dragons’ training grounds had been sleepless for him. He had escorted you back to your parlor, to the safety of your ladies. All of whom he liked. Rebecca was healing, a calm presence you much needed in these anxious times. Ashley was your source of light, she was kind and graceful and walked you through what your expectations would be. And then there was Claire. He favored Claire.
Of course he did, they shared a childhood. Chris was on his political council, well as a named knight. Chris was, for a lack of a better term, Leon’s closest friend. And Claire fell into a very near second. She was the one who talked him straight after missing your initial arrival all those weeks ago. She was the one who told him he needed to try harder, to better bond with you. She was the one who knew of his misery. And in turn, he knew of hers.
It was no secret Claire held no affection for the male sex. She had turned down many suitors in her time in court. And while many turned up their noses at her distaste for courting, Leon respected it. He admired her braveness to denounce marriage to a lord or nobleman. He knew of her love for the head knight of his father’s King’s guard. And once Leon was king, the rules of marriage between a knight and a noble would change. But that was the future.
It had been Claire’s suggestion he take you down to the training grounds. She informed him of your interest in the dragons. How you spent your days in the upper gardens watching the dragons from afar. Watching him from afar. And Leon knew better than to ignore Claire’s advice. So, he had taken you. Offered you to groom his dragon. Which was an intimate act in itself. Then again, Shirsos liked you. Very much. She never formed attachments so easily or quickly. And the Crown Prince did not believe in the tales that dragons could see a person’s soul. But maybe, Shirsos did see yours and found it was good.
His nights were the most plagued with you. His dreams laced with your voice and your face. There were many early mornings when he would awake for training before dawn to find himself hard under the blankets. Which would lead him to be ridden with guilt. You were not yet his wife, he was not supposed to see you or think of you in such perverse manners. His own mind and subconscious seemed to betray him though. It must have been your warm smile, or your gentle touch. Really, he did not know what started it all. What made that first dream haunt his sleep.
It had been three days after your arrival. At that point he had not spent much time with you. Only breakfasts and dinners. None of which were truly private. That night, he had come inside from training Shirsos later than usual. He had shed his leathers, stripping down to just his trousers. Rinsed himself with water and blew out all the candles before he climbed into his bed. Sleep had come fast. Quick and deep. And then he saw your face.
Hazy in the light of a dimly candlelit room, your smile soft and sweet and warm and real. Your delicate hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. The scent of you had driven him mad, his heart had stammered as you leaned forward, whispering to him in your honey voice.
“Leon,” your voice was like a lullaby, invading his very senses. “My prince. You desire me in the same way I desire you, do you not? Then love me.”
He’s shot up straight in bed, the early morning sun shining through the glass of the windows in his bedchamber. His heart had raced, his face warm, his body taut. Then he felt it. The warmth and hardness that would not relent. It took him longer than he had wished that morning to wait for it to dissipate. He had been late to morning training.
That had been the first night Leon had dreamt of you. Each night, this dream version of you invaded his sleep. Filled his mind and his senses. It was his misery. He did not want to think of you this way. To dream of touching your skin and kissing your face. Of being inside of you. He should not think of you that way until you were properly his wife. Though he supposed he could not control his subconscious. And he would never dare act on these dreams or thoughts or feelings until you were officially wed. No matter how strong the urge was to kiss you.
The day Leon had first taken you to meet Shirsos, he had broken that unspoken promise to himself. You had been so distracted by the presence of the dragon, that you had not noticed he had slipped your glove – which he had removed for you – into the pocket of his trousers. The guilt of his action weighed on him, but he could not help himself. He needed a piece of you. Your kindness and your warmth. Your softness. It smelled like you. The oils and creams you applied in the mornings. It was a floral scent, one of strawberries and sugar. It made him dizzy. And Leon was not proud of himself as he slipped the silken glove into the drawer of his nightstand, silently swearing to never hold or view it in a perverse manner.
It had become a ritual in his nights – he would take the glove from his drawer, his fingers would smooth over the fabric that had once rested against your skin. He would bring the silken fabric to his nose, inhaling the scent of you until he was dizzy, until he was high on it. The action always filled him with shame. And wanting more of you. To have you in his arms, to sleep beside you, to have you in his bed. Soon, he would have these things. But he wanted them now.
So, he did what he could to fill that space. He requested his mother that you select your ladies now. He wanted you to be happy and have a reprieve before the stress of your wedding. He had dresses to your chambers – all beautiful and lavish colors that were not specifically marked from him. He learned your likes and your dislikes in terms of foods and pastries. When he learned your love of a certain ingredient, he had the cooks make double batches of whatever baked good required that ingredient.
Leon found pleasure in pleasing you. In providing you sources of happiness. Even if you did not know it was him who provided it. Once you were wed, he would be able to do so freely and loudly. Until that time, he would do it quietly and softly. It pleased him no less. He was happy knowing you were happy. It was that simple to him.
Though his patience was thinning. His days were full – meetings and training and audiences. He rarely had time for you. Leon hated this for a number of reasons, but he hoped you did not believe he did not want to spend time with you. If he could, he would devote his days to you. His hours to trying to make you laugh or smile. To tending to your every want and need. To just be with you. He wished for nothing more.
He tried to visit you. He would make an appearance in your parlor during your tea in the afternoon, though your ladies were always present. He would stroll the gardens in the evenings to see you watching the training grounds. He wished dinner banquets were not so loud so he could ask you about every aspect of your day. Your thoughts and what you dreamt of the night before. What your favorite food that was presented to you that night was. But he settled. For those few small, and quiet moments until he could have more.
It was that night he took you to the training grounds that he was plagued with sleeplessness. Perhaps it had been your smile. Or how willing you were to try new things. Or just your presence. He had been cradling your glove in his palm again, the late night air cool against his warm face. He yearned for you in ways he did not know were possible. He had fallen asleep propped up against the backboard of his bed, your glove in his hand. That night, he had dreamt of you beneath him. Yes, he had dreamt this before. But it was different this time.
You were completely pliant. Your skin warm and your eyes half lidded and hazy. That same small smile on your lips that made his heart frenzy. He could feel your warmth wrapped around him, the rhythm of his hips slow and steady. Then he saw it – the dragon scale had been dipped in gold around the edges and clasped to a chain that now hung from your neck. The scale, now a pendant, rested against your skin, just between your collarbones. It was the only thing you wore.
Leon awoke immediately, the rest of his dream stopped in its tracks. He woke with a gasp, his face hot and his body taut, hard. The thoughts that popped into his head made him loathe himself. He could not think of you this way. You were not yet his. He did not yet have the ability or freedom to view or think of you in such erotic and perverse manners.
The war with himself was lost as he laid there, hand fisted around his cock as he thought of you. Only you. The silk glove balled in his free hand, his lungs filled with the scent of your lotions and oils from the soft fabric. His mind replayed his dreams – your pretty face and your smile and your soft gaze and the way you felt. No amount of shame could rival the way he felt when he spilled into his hand, his eyes blinking open. He hated himself. You were not supposed to be thought of this way. And yet, he could not stop.
Leon knew he loved you, even if the notion of such a feeling blooming so quickly was ridiculous. It was the truth. He was taken with you. You were to be his, and he supposed that was a blessing in itself. He was fortunate you were not someone he could not have, at the very least. But he did not know if you loved him. Or if you could ever return his love.
He could only hope and pray to the gods for such a blessing. But you, you must have been his greatest blessing. For your existence alone made him believe all his luck must have run out. He did not deserve any more than he already had. Leon did not know what he did to deserve such a divine and holy presence, much less to be his wife. And he knew, regardless of your feelings, he would not waste this blessing. He would love you with any love he had to give. And maybe, that would earn him enough favor that the gods would bless him with the returning of your love.
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