Oct 29, 2024
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5 zero context images of Ed in Almost Royal
Almost Royal (4)
Summary: You & Dean talk about logistics about bringing Opal to his country--and how to keep her away from the press that won’t stay away.
Pairing: King!Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: None that I can think think of? Unedited.
1/18/23 LOLOLOL I HAVE THE OTHER CHAPTER WRITTEN THOUGH I PROMISE
Masterlist
You can’t stand how nice the plane is. You’ve been in first class approximately once in your life, and you were crying so hard you couldn’t enjoy it at all. Dean’s private plan puts what little you remember to shame. The interior was gold and green, velvet and plush touching your skin so softly it felt inappropriate.
“I feel like it’s too expensive to breathe,” Opal mumbles to you, once you’ve reached the air and Dean went to the restroom.
“Get used to it baby bear,” you mutter. “It only goes up from here.”
She nods, looking out to the clouds in wonder, curiosity, and a smidge of anxiety.
“Spill it.”
“I don’t know,” she sighs out, biting her thumbnail. “I’m so excited, and happy to be here with both of you but…but what if the more time we spend time together, the less he likes me?” Her eyes build with tears, and you immediately take her hands in yours, reaching across the table between you.
“Baby bear.”
“And, and what if I don’t fit in? What if they don’t like me? What if you end up hating me for making you go back?”
“Never.” You cut her off vehemently. “I could never hate you for anything you do. You could put an axe through my foot right now and I’d still love you until my dying breath–”
“And mine.”
You both look up to see Dean standing a ways away, clearly having heard most of your conversation. “I haven’t known for as nearly as long as I should, but I do love you Opal. Until my dying breathe I will not let you go again.”
A few tears slide down Opal’s cheeks, but Dean catches them quickly and sits down beside her. You watch them tenderly before getting back to the task at hand.
“So what’s the game plan?”
Opal gives you a confused look but Dean only nods. You both lock eyes, and a strange understanding settles between you two.
“I think our primary goal is the same,” he says. “We keep his far away from the press.”
“It’s a needed precaution,” you explain when you see your daughter’s face fall. “The press are vultures who will skin you alive for every single answer you give and then some. They’ll be looking for all the wrong things in your words–from stuttering to the wrong adjective to the wrong pronunciation. They’re waiting for you to fall.”
“And we won’t let that happen,” Dean continues. “We’re going to try and mask you both from the public as much as possible in order to control which way the story goes, and to ensure they see you for who you are.”
He waits for her to nod before moving on. “You both will be staying close to me in the palace under the guise of being Sam’s friends who are over for the occasion–”
“Sam? I get to meet my Uncle Sam soon?” Opal breathes.
“You sound more excited to meet him than you did me,” Dean jokes, bumping her shoulder with his. Your heart warms at their collective laugh. It doesn’t take long before he gets serious again. “I plan to reveal you two at the Announcement Ball.”
You balk at his words, unable to keep your jaw from dropping. “Are you sure? Are you serious?”
Dean doesn’t shy away from your eye contact. “Of course.”
“Mom? Dad? What’s the Announcement Ball?”
You can’t answer her. “They won’t let you. You know that the won’t let you right.”
Dean only raises an eyebrow. “I don’t care who they are, I’ve made my decision.”
“If you’re even the slightest bit hesitant–”
Opal tugs on Dean’s sleeves with a soft calling of “Dad?” And despite the seriousness of the conversation, you smirk at how he melts instantaneously at her puppy dog eyes.
“The Announcement Ball is a tradition my lineage has, where we officially name our successors for the throne, legitimizing who we decide is our blood.”
“And…and you want to announce…me?”
“If you’re up for it kid.”
Opal swallows before closing her eyes tightly. “I don’t want to cry anymore than I already have.”
Dean laughs, taking her hand in his. “When I told you I’m not letting you go, I meant it kid. After the announcement, we’ll have all the time in the world.” He then clears his throat. “To prepare you for court and the public, you both will be participating within 3 weeks worth of events to show who you are. That you belong here. So that by the time I name you Opal, no one would have any reason to oppose.”
She smiles so hard that both of you can’t help but mirror her emotion.
“Sam is going to pick us up,” Dean adds. “He’s also agreed to take you both on and be your benefactor for the events. He has access to both our funds to make sure you both fit in well. God knows you’ll need it.”
A bitter taste blooms in your mouth at his last comment. You try not to fidget with the 6 year old coat that you have yet to take off, but it must show on your face because Dean tries to backtrack.
“That–I didn’t mean it like that–”
“Excuse me?” You ignore him, giving a kind smile to the one flight attendant you’ve seen. “What snacks do you have on board?”
“We have granola, trail mix, fresh cut seasonal fruit, smoothies–”
“Can we have some granola?” Opal interrupts, and the flight attendant nods. “No peanuts please!”
“Are you allergic?” Dean asks.
You nod as she’s handed the food. “Walnuts are the worst.”
He nods, sinking into his seat. “Seems like there's so many things I have to learn about you.”
“Well,” Opal says over the food. “We now have the rest of our lives.”
You all fall asleep for the rest of the flight.
You’re the first to wake up, and realize you’ve stepped into a nightmare. The plane is slowly touching down, and you see massive amounts of cars, and people, and…
Cameras.
The press.
“Dean,” you almost scream out, shaking him vigorously from where he sits across from you. Opal’s head slips off of his shoulder when you gesture to the window. “They’re here.”
An expletive slips out of his mouth immediately, his face red with anger. He whips out his phone as you question him.
“How?!”
“I don’t know–”
“Did they know you left?”
“This is our stealth plane, the royal crest isn’t anywhere near this–”
“If they hurt her Dean–”
“They won’t!” He snaps, determination set on his face. “They won’t.”
You nod, and both of you know. Digging into a backpack you kept with you, you pull out a large, old college sweatshirt. Dean grabs his sunglasses and a scarf the flight attendant hands him.
Opal barely wakes up as you both help her pull the items on, just in time for the announcement that you could disembark within the next 5 minutes.
“Keep your head low,” you warn. “Don’t say anything, get straight to the car. We’ll be right behind you.”
“Sam’s ready,” Dean confirms. “Let’s go.”
All of you hold your breath. Dean is in front, you’re in the back with Opal in between you. The plane door lowers…
And they pounce.
Their words garble together, with blinding lights and yelling that causes a major sensory overload. You and Dean both have a strong hold on Opal, with Dean’s bodyguard strongly leading the way from where he came from the car. The press jostles all of you, the wave of the crowd ebbing strongly to try to get your line to break. The whole time you keep gently squeezing your daughter’s hand, her squeezing back just as grounding.
“King Dean! Is it true that this is your illegitimate daughter?!”
Opal flinches.
“Is this your new mistress?!”
You bite hard on your tongue.
“King Dean, is this another one of your charity cases?!”
Dean glares straight ahead.
“King Dean, is this the help that fled the palace? Was she hiding your secret love child?”
They continue to press in. And in. And in.
And finally you’re at the car door. Dean slips in, and then somehow your strong formation breaks. Opal ends up behind you, on the ground, on her hands and knees–
You try to get to her but you’re shoved inside the car. Without another thought you climbed straight over Dean’s lap to get out on the other side, scrambling to your baby girl.
Just to see that the crowd was silent.
They’re in a semi-circle around her, but she’s not actually on the ground…she’s helping a fallen reporter. Her scarf has fallen so that her soft smile shines, and beyond the camera clicks, you hear Opal ask if the fallen reporter is okay. They only nod in shock.
“Baby bear,” you choke out. Opal gets up with the person on the ground, nodding before following you to the car.
Inside, Dean doesn’t let her go. And you can finally breathe.
“Well,” a familiar voice says. Your eyes widen at Sam sitting in the passenger seat. “That was quite an entrance.”
------
If I don't get chapter 5 up by the 25th you have permission to spam me.
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366 DAYS OF ED GAMBLE -- 6 / 366
almost royal is my new favourite show
Almost Royal (2)
Long overdue?? Absolutely. Please forgive me? <3 Hope this was worth it!
Summary: (Y/N) is struggling more than she’d like to admit, and with the eve of her daughter’s birthday looming, she decided to give her daughter an unusual gift.
Pairing: Royal!Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: Douchebag boss, small amount of angst, mention of death, etc.
Masterlist
Taglist: @that-one-gay-girl @fanfictionjunkie1112 @flamencodiva @hoboal87 @cutestdolans @anaissomnia @kbl1313 @fuzzycloudsz @hollymac79 @vicmc624 @roxytheimmortal @lunaticgurly @coffeebooksandfandom @A-dorky-book-keeper @nihilismworld
“Order up for table sixteen!”
The constant murmur of the diner around you only gets louder, and you skirt around the tables and patrons as fast as you could. Sweat collects on your top lip and your brow, the too small uniform chafing in almost every crease.
“(Y/N)! I told you, order up for table sixteen!” Sal yells from the kitchen, his baritone voice causing you to grit your teeth. You drop off the most recent order you had in your hands, giving them a quick smile before rushing to pick up the food.
You try to avoid the greasy cook, but Sal gives you a cunning smile that only makes your skin crawl as you pick up the four plates, balancing them perfectly. As you reach for the last one, Sal pushes it too far off the counter with his spatula, and it falls helplessly to the floor with a crash.
“What the fuck!” Is all that passes through your mouth, and before you know it the whole diner has gone silent. Your fellow coworkers only look on with sympathy in your eyes, and it doesn’t take long before the usual white noise falls back into place.
“That’s quite an unprofessional mouth you’ve got there,” Sal reprimands, and you have to clench your jaw to prevent yourself from spitting in his direction. “I think I’m going to need you to open up tomorrow in order to amend that.”
“Sal--” you choke out. “You, you can’t do that. I’ve requested tomorrow off for the past three years--I’m already closing, I can’t do an fourteen hour shift tomorrow--”
“Then I can just take it out of your next paycheck,” he shrugs, starting to redo the food he destroyed.
All you can do is swallow. “No, I...I’ll come in at 6.”
“And?”
“And I’ll close at 8,” you mumble.
“Good girl.”
It takes everything in you to go to table sixteen with the food in your hand, apologizing furiously on the delay for the last patron’s food. They seem understanding enough, and it almost makes the tears you were holding back fall from your eyes.
You thank God that you get to leave after the lunch rush, and you try to avoid as many people as you could. Driving quickly to the store and then home, you allow yourself to let out all frustrations as you blast your music.
When you finally get home, you’re about ready to collapse onto your couch and sleep when a piece of paper taped onto the grate in front of your door stops you. All you have to read is the big bold words Eviction Notice before you rip it off and storm into your apartment.
As you descend into your basement apartment, it’s just as cold and dark as you remember. A candle flickers on the center table in your makeshift living room, slightly illuminating the backpack and shoes that were thrown haphazardly. It’s the sight of these that make you smile, and as you put down the bags, you sprint into an adjoining room.
“Happy birthday eve!!” You scream at the top of your lungs, jumping excitedly onto the bed covered in purple comforters, avoiding the body of your daughter as you smile brightly. She only groans, beneath you, shaking herself awake from her after school nap. You strategically flop onto her, still in your Sal’s uniform.
You lock eyes with a shade of green you know too well, and you snuggle into her. “How does it feel Opal? Have you grown three inches? Have you grown a shoe size?” You gasp. “A BOOB size??”
“Mom!” She laughs, pulling away from you to bring a pillow over her head. “I’m not even sixteen yet. I feel the exact same way I did yesterday.”
“You’re going to be sixteen,” you mumble to yourself, staring up at your ceiling. Opal uncovers her head to plop it onto your shoulder. “My baby is going to be sixteen! It feels like just yesterday I was making you mac & cheese while we watched cartoons on the sofa.”
“That was yesterday Mom.”
“Oh how the time flies!”
You both laugh together, and silence falls over you briefly. You watch the sun go down from the limited rays of light from the “windows”. Your heart tightens. “I’m sorry baby bear,” you mumble rushing on before she could interrupt. “You deserve more than this, more than I’ve given you--”
“This is more than enough Mama--”
“No, it’s not. And I know that.” You sigh. “The moment you were born, I promised to always provide you things to the best of my ability. I promised to protect you--and through it’s come in the form of a wild basement with 90% thrifted clothes--”
“I love my wild basement and thrifted clothes--”
“My point is,” you pause. “I am going to try so much more. Harder than I ever thought was possible, starting today.” You reach into your pocket book on the floor for a bulky parchment held together by brown paper and twine.
“How much money did you fit into there?”
You roll your eyes, nudging her softly. “Don’t be a little shithead”--she smiles brightly--”I can’t celebrate your actual birthday with you tomorrow. I have the opening shift at Sal’s before going over to Rick’s to clean up. So, I have three presents for you.”
You and Opal shift into a sitting position. “Present number one: I have ice cream cake waiting for you in the freezer.”
“Friendlys?!”
“You know it. Present number two: I got Rick to let us use his place to bake some apple pies. We’d have to make him some, but as soon as you feel ready--”
“Let’s go now.”
“Geez Opal,” you giggle. “As soon as you’re ready, not tonight, we can go. Present number three,” you breathe in deeply. “You know your father is a sore subject for me.”
Opal immediately sits up more, her eyes searching yours. “Mom?”
You nod in confirmation, tracing your fingers lightly over the parchment. “In here...are memories of what we had.” You swallow hard. “Now, I’ll give this to you, and you will have fourteen questions you can ask me with full disclosure.”
“Full honesty?”
“Full honesty. After that, I will fulfill two requests of yours that are in my jurisdiction. All to get you to your sweet sixteen.”
Opal doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then, she surges forward to embrace you tightly. “Mama,” she says through tears.
“Baby bear,” you respond, your voice thick as well When you pull back, you wipe away her fallen tears while you both smile. You place the package in her lap and she excitedly tears through it.
What she finds is photos. Piles of photos and letters and more letters and photos that illustrate the three years you had with the love of your life. There’s even hints of Sam in there, and you watch carefully as she picks up a photo of Dean where he’s smiling brightly at the camera while on a boat--a smile that mirrors the one your daughter frequently wears.
“Mama,” she breathes. “This...this is a photo of King Dean. Why do you have a photo of King Dean?”
“Is that one of your questions?”
“No!” She amends, rewinding. “My father...is King Dean.”
“That’s wild.”
She flicks your arm. “Mom! I mean this is--I’m a--how?!”
“Excuse me,” you scoff. “Your mother’s a catch. And for that, you have 13 questions left.”
“Ah!” She exclaims, searching for words. “How did you two meet?”
“I worked all over the palace. I was a floater, I went where I was needed and coincidentally he was always there. He kept talking to me, we became friends, and eventually...one thing led to another.”
“Did you love each other?”
You swallow thickly. “With everything in us. Or at least for me. I’d always look for ways to see him, and he’s forgo royal duties just for me. We even got married, but I think it’s some sort of treason so I don’t bring it up.”
Opal’s jaw drops briefly. “What was he like?”
“Your father…” You pause. “Your father was one of the most selfless, bravest, stubbornest assholes I’d ever met. He was fiercely protective of his family, and he would sell his whole being if it meant the people he cared about were safe.”
“So when you say all men…”
“I only partially include Dean. 10 questions.”
“Who’s this?” She points to a group photo of you, Dean, Sam & Jess.
“That is your Uncle Sam.” You shift slightly. “He was my best friend. We were as thick as thieves within the palace, always getting into trouble. You wouldn’t believe the situations we got into.”
“And her?” She points to Jess.
“That’s Jess. His ex-fiancee.” Your heart lurches into your throat. “She was also my best friend, but things...Things went wrong when she went on a charity visit to a Rehabilitation Center. A patient got ahold of a gun, and she was shot.” A tear escapes your eye. “By the time anyone got to her, it was too late. She died instantly.”
Opal reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers before squeezing tightly. You give her a close lipped smile. “Did Sam or Jess know about me?”
“Sam yes--we found out together actually. Jess passed away a year before it all happened.”
“Does my father know?”
Your heart beats incessantly against your ribcage, drowning in your ears. You’d prepared for this question, you could answer it. But even as you did, each word felt like liquid tar in your mouth. “The day I left, no. I was too hurt to even seek him out…But when I had you, I thought he had a right to know just how much of a true gem had stemmed from our love. Every year, a week after your birthday, I sent him memories of us from the past year. Photos of you mostly. I never got a reply.”
Opal deflates, and your chest clenches. “Do you...do you see any of him in me?”
A smile flits to your mouth, “So much it hurts,” you let out a chuckle. “From your smile to your eyes to your goddamn apple pie, there’s no way I could forget him when he lives so much in you.”
“So why’d you leave?”
You can only stare at her, mouth paused in shock. You debate whether you should tell her the truth.
“You said full honesty Mama.”
You close your eyes tightly, trying to catch even your faintest breath. “He um,” you clear your throat to dislodge the block forming. “He was too invested in running the country, and getting married to someone who wasn’t me--”
Opal leans into you, trying to offer some comfort. “Aww, Mama.
“The worst part is...is he didn’t tell me. I’d heard it from his m--from someone who was more than pleased to see us separated. I hadn’t heard from him for days, I’d just found out about you, and now here they were, threatening our lives if we didn’t get on our first plane out of there.”
“So you left without another word.”
You don’t answer.
“But--but maybe if you’d stayed, if he’d known about me we’d be together right now! You should’ve fought for him--”
“Fought for him?” You interrupted. “Opal, I had done nothing but fight for him. I would never leave his side and then--then he wasn’t the only person I had to fight for.”
“So who was it?”
“What?”
“Who made you leave? Who threatened us?”
“Opal--”
“Mom--”
“Don’t make me answer this.”
“You said full. Honesty.”
It takes everything in you to answer. “Your Grandmother.”
Opal lets out a breath and sits back heavily. “Well fuck.”
“I know,” you chuckle.
You both don’t speak for a while.
“Do you miss him?” She asks.
“Everyday. Every time I think I’m over it, it comes back tenfold.”
“Does that mean you’d go back if you could?”
You but your lip. “I...I don’t know. That’s something I’d have to reevaluate if it ever came down to it.”
She nods thoughtfully.
“One more question baby bear.”
“...Which palace do they spend their most time in?”
You tilt your head, surprised at her last question. “That’s what you’re going to ask.”
“What can I say? I’m curious and a little bit of a daydreamer.”
Her last words break you a little more, so you tell her. She nods gratefully, and you lean forward to give her forehead a kiss. “Alright, do you want a slice of cake before we clonk out?”
Once again, to your surprise she shakes her head. “I’ll have some with you tomorrow, I think I might hit the bed now.”
“Okay.” You surrender, lifting yourself from the bed. “Good choice. Goodnight baby bear.”
“Goodnight Mama.”
You walk out of the room, and immediately Opal pulls out her phone to look up the palace. After some extensive digging and some slight dead ends, she finds a Redditt thread that swears by a palace address that’ll get her immediately to the inner circle. She quickly writes it down, and she finds a piece of paper and a few pencils.
With a deep breath, she starts to write.
It’s been about a week since your conversation with Opal, and work has been shitty. Nothing new, really, is all you can think as you wait patiently for Opal to meet you outside her school in your beat up car. Your vows to make things better seem to have fallen flat. Bills have started to drown you more than before, and you’ve recently been fired from Sal’s--you honestly don’t know how much longer you can keep your head above water.
Opal bounds to the car, humming and you give her an incredulous look. “Someone’s awfully chipper.”
“Well someone’s awfully a grouch,” she retorts.
“Well, we do live in a trash can,” you mumble, pulling away from the curb. “Baby bear, I gotta tell you something--”
“You got laid off.”
“I got--wait, how’d you know?”
“I heard you grumbling Wednesday night about Sal being a sleazeball who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”
“Well--”
“And I found our eviction notice Mom.”
Blood rushes to your ears and you groan. “Look, I know this sounds bad, but we’ll be back on our feet before we know it, and this’ll all be behind us.”
“I know.”
You smile. “Thank you for your optimism baby bear.”
“Next time, I’ll charge you $25 for each optimistic phrase.”
You laugh heartily. “I’ll let you know when I can afford that.”
Pulling onto the side of your street, things are awfully quiet, though neither you nor Opal notice. Unlocking your apartment, you go down the steps only to freeze at the sight of apple green eyes you never thought you’d see again.
“Dean?”
---------------------------
Look out for Part Three coming soon!
Almost Royal (1)
Summary: Dean & (Y/N) are in love but it might not be as strong as they think it is.
Pairing: Royal!Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: Pregnancy; Implied Smut; Threats;
7/21/20--- Masterlist
Oops--you left marks.
Biting onto your bottom lip, you trace the crisscrossing red lines with your gaze, admiring the rippling expanse of his back as he sits on the edge of his bed. You’d tried to file your nails down as much as you could, but thinking back on it, nothing was going to stop you from grasping at him desperately, pulling him closer so that every inch of skin touched yours--
Biting your bottom lip, you drop the thin sheets that cover your bare body. Silently crawling to Dean, you run your hands up his back and to his shoulders. He jumps slightly, and immediately you place your lips on the first welt you find. The taste of faint sweat sings on your tongue, and when you inhale you find a scent that is wholly and irrevocably Dean. Poking your tongue out more for a taste, he groans and relaxes at your touch immediately.
Before you can register it, Dean slides away from you. You lean towards him instinctively, but his thumb catches your cheek, caressing it’s skin back and forth. Candy green eyes stare at you softly, so open, so expressive--at least to you, Sam always said you had a super power to know what Dean truly felt.
And right now, his emotions took the breath right out of your lungs. They shine with a warmth that love is too weak to describe. They gleam with a future you feel close enough to taste, a happiness at the tips of your fingers that glow in the center of your chests.
“I love you,” he breathes, the full moon casting a glow that allows his words to still in the air.
Leaning forward, you connect your forehead against his. “You like-like me? That’s embarrassing.”
He laughs heartily, springing forward so he’s slotted between your legs, hovering over you on your back--just where you like him to be. “Say it back,” he threatens.
“You’ll never take me alive.”
“Say it back,” he grins. “Or marry me.”
Throwing your upper body onto your elbows, you force Dean to back up slightly as you stare at him in belief. “What?”
“Marry me,” he repeats. “Come with me to Father Novak’s chapel, he’ll do it there.”
“But--but we’d need witnesses--”
“Sam and Charlie are already on standby.”
“I would need a dress!”
“Rowena’s tailored one, and it’s sitting in the back of my closet.”
Frustrated, you smack his bicep. “Why does it feel like you’ve asked everyone but me?”
“That’s what I’m doing now.”
Darting your eyes between his, you see a hint of fear join what you’ve seen before. It’s miniscule, but it’s there, and it squeezes your heart. You reach a palm out to his cheek, and he kisses your palm without hesitation. “Your mother won’t be happy,” you whisper.
“I love her,” Dean replies. “I do, but this, you, is something I’d risk everything for over and over again. You’re my past, my present, my future--”
“And my eternity,” you finish with him. Dean leans forward and connects your lips, and you lose yourself in him before you remember where the conversation was headed. “Let’s go.”
“You’re going to be late,” is all you have the strength to mumble against Dean’s lips. He only groans in response, not allowing you to separate far enough to form words.
Your bodies work against each other seamlessly, almost on instinct--where Dean’s body stopped, yours began, pushing and pulling and pulling and pushing. His fingertips gripped your thighs around his waist desperately, igniting a white fire that you can only shudder at.
Your back meets the glass wall of the greenhouse you both found yourselves in, the humidity seeping through your white button up, mixing with your sweat. Dean prods his tongue against yours briefly, before trailing down to your jaw, your neck, your clavicle, your chest--where he stops abruptly at your bra.
A noise sounds at the back of his throat, and Dean devours the top of your left breast before letting the skin go with a wet pop. “I love my girls,” he groans to himself, burying himself between your boobs.
“Your girls?” You tease, carding your hands through his hair.
“Only with your full consent,” he amends, his words muffled by your skin.
You laugh at his antics, and he picks his head up to smile fondly at you. “My wife,” he whispers.
“Mmmhmm,” you hum. “I have been for over a month.”
“And I hope you will be for the rest of eternity.”
“Hmm, I don’t know...how serious is this?”
He nips at your bottom lip playfully, and before you dive back into each other the door at your far right opens.
Both of you spring apart, only to sigh in relief at the sight of an exasperated Sam.
“You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough for someone to make a speech?”
Dean only shrugs.
“We have to go,” Sam sighs. “Seems that the crown prince is missing during a particularly important coronation event--and the press is having a field day.”
Dean goes to reply but you stop him by stepping closer and fixing his velvet jacket; you straightened his sash and medals, soothing your palms over the material. “Go,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You push him towards his younger brother, and your best friend. “Take care of him Sam!”
“No promises!” He calls back, before they both leave the room.
You watch after them for a few moments, adjusting your own clothes. Retying your apron, you spin your wedding ring on your right hand, admiring the way the opal stone caught the light.
Dean was your husband. He was yours, and you were his.
Biting your lip to repress your smile, you walk out of the greenhouse with your head down. It’s then that you’re stopped abruptly by--
Queen Mary.
A gasp passes your lips as you dip into a bow. When you rise, you can feel her condescending gaze as she looks down her nose at you. She stands regally, her air of disdain coiling your stomach in. Her eyes sweep over your body, emulating a light scoff before meeting your gaze again. She raises an eyebrow in expectation, and you simply bow your head before brushing past her in an attempt at getting as far away as possible.
X
X
The tents set up in the royal garden mesmerize you. When the sun went down after Dean’s speech the lanterns set outside lit up, casting a lovely glow over the invited courtiers.
Keeping the silver tray in your hand steady, you serve champagne to the waiting patrons as you try to find another glimpse of your love. You hadn’t even had the chance to see Sam again, and this was usually the time you both made fun of all the royal guests together.
Flitting around as much as you could, you finally find the person you wanted to see the most. Slowly making your way over to Dean, your perception clears as you find him speaking to a beautiful woman--one that had beautifully tanned skin complimented by a seductive red dress, and chestnut hair that falls in effortless curls.
“Lady Lisa,” a voice behind you announces. You freeze, your blood stopping its course through your veins.
“Your majesty.”
“They make a lovely couple, do they not?” She asks smugly. “Their children would be beautiful, and the prosperity she would bring to our country is immeasurable. She’s truly the woman Dean deserves.”
Bile lurches into your throat--thick and large and growing bigger each time you try to swallow it down. Queen Mary’s words ring in your ears as you watch Lady Lisa and your husband interact. His eyes glow, and both their smiles are bright as they laugh at things you can’t hear.
You place the platter of champagne on the closest table with a large clang, throwing off your apron before running to the closest bathroom with a quick “Excuse me”.
You don’t make it to the toilets, and instead vomit into a rose bush that stinks of sweet perfume.
Weeks pass by after the Royal Garden Party and you can’t seem to keep up. The days blur together and things in the palace seem to pick up as Dean’s coronation gets closer. Events come and go, and encounters with him do too. Your relationship dwindles down to fleeting moments of passion and restless nights when you can slip into his bed, which are now few and far between.
You try your hardest not to let Mary’s words affect you--but they’ve already taken root within your heart, only growing every time Dean leaves your arms.
“You seem preoccupied,” Sam observes, as you two spend your weekly meet up within the palace library.
You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts while reading the blurs on your page. “I’m just tired.”
“I believe that’s part of the reason,” he counters. “You and Dean have the same look of longing in your eyes since the garden party.”
You don’t answer.
“He misses you, you know,” Sam confesses softly. “Everyday when he gets the chance to step away he tries to get to you, but Mother always pulls him away--”
“Well maybe he should try harder then,” you snap.
Sam raises an eyebrow, sitting back in his chair. “Someone’s testy,” he teases, throwing a pillow at your head. “Dean hasn’t ordered you your monthly ‘shark week’ basket?”
“No.” You throw the pillow back at him. “I haven’t gotten my period since--”
Fuck.
“(Y/N)?” Sam calls, but his voice is drowned out by the rushing of water in your ears.
When was the last time you got your period? It was the week before you and Dean went to the chapel--
Two and a half months ago.
“(Y/N)!” Sam calls again, grasping your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s been two and a half months,” you mumble.
“What?”
“It’s been two and a half months,” you grit out. “Since my last period.
Silence falls immediately.
“Let’s go,” Sam decides, standing up while frantically gathering his stuff.
“Sam?”
“Let’s go. We have a palace physician to see.”
X
X
It’s been two hours.
Two hours since you’ve learned you have a tiny baby bean growing in your body, and you can’t stop looking at the ultrasound photo.
Sam was right beside you when the palace doctor told you just what path your life was on. You were on the verge of panicking--as you had every right to be--but Sam’s soothing words made you realize just how much of blessing this was for you and Dean.
Making your way back to the library, you both couldn’t contain your newfound excitement. You talked about everything under the sun about your baby, from star sign to how long it’d take Sam to teach them how to ride a bike.
“Concept,” the younger prince spoke up, both of you on your backs while staring at the ceiling. “If it’s a girl, you name her Samantha, and then you could shorten it to Sam. If it’s a boy--”
“No Sam,” you giggled, shoving his shoulder.
“Just hear me out! Do you even have any names in mind?”
A small smile makes its way onto your face as you nod. “Dean and I have actually talked about it often. The first time we officially met, his pick up line was: ‘how are we hyphenating our names? Asking for our future kids’.”
Sam lets out a snort. “He’s so corny.”
“Trust me, I know. But eventually, we settles on Jonathan Sam (Y/L/N)-Winchester for a boy--”
“A mouthful but it has both me and my father in it so I might just cry.”
“And Opal (your mom’s name) (Y/L/N)-Winchester for a girl.”
“There’s probably a good reason the name Mary isn’t in there.”
Springing up, you and Sam surge to your feet to meet the figure of the Queen standing at the entrance to the library.
“Mother--” Sam starts.
“Leave us,” she states, and when Sam doesn’t move, her head snaps towards him. “Leave. Us.”
He sends an apologetic look your way before following her orders. When the door closes behind him, Queen Mary doesn’t waste a breath.
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” she starts. “You’re going to pack as many things as you can carry and you’re going to leave my country.”
Your mouth drops open. “Excuse me?”
“You’re going to leave this palace with what little money and status you have, and you’re not going to come back. You’re going to leave my family alone and get on the plane I’ve arranged, to the house I have ready for you, and you’re going to live quietly while raising this leech as far away from us as possible.”
“Leech?!” You screech, placing a hand over your stomach protectively. “My child, your flesh and blood is a gift, one that I will not tolerate you speaking about in that way, and neither will your son--”
“What will you do?” She chuckles. “Hit me? You’d lose your hands.”
“Then I won’t leave.”
“I believe it’s in the best interest for your safety to leave. You and I both know I have a talent at making tragedies look like accidents.”
Her words squeeze your next words away from your throat. It closes, and tears gather at your waterline--but you can’t...you won’t cry in front of her. “If you hurt me...if you hurt us...Dean would never forgive you. You’d lose him to me--”
“Do you really think my son cares about you or your bastard when he’s betrothed to Lady Lisa?”
You lose your footing, and you stumble back as the wind is knocked out of your lungs.
“What a pity you didn’t know,” she tuts. “Why do you think he’s been so busy lately? Becoming the future King and planning the royal wedding is not an easy task.”
White noise is all you can hear. The tears you fought so hard to hold in now spill easily, rolling down your cheeks. This is why Dean has been so scarce lately.
He was marrying someone else. He was choosing someone else.
“You have until midnight to leave.”
You don’t hear her leave, your eyes trained on the elegantly decorated carpet that your tears dampen. Your hands begin to shake, your chest heaves, and you can’t tell if you’re breathing.
A familiar hand sets on your shoulder. “(Y/N),” a voice says through the void. “It’s okay! I’m here. What did my mother say, what did she do?”
You can only drag your gaze to meet Sam’s. They’re filled with pure concern, but all you feel is empty. “Did you know?” You whisper.
Sam doesn’t move. “(Y/N)...”
“Did you know that Dean’s arranged to be married to Lisa?” You spit out.
He doesn’t answer for what feels like years. “Yes, but--”
“How long.”
“You have to listen to me--”
“HOW. LONG.”
“...A month. Since the garden party.”
You rip yourself from his grip, shaking your head vehemently. “I have to...I have to leave--”
“Wait, where are you going?”
“Far away from this fucked up family.”
“(Y/N)--”
“No Sam!” You explode, the white noise and emptiness giving way to a deep seeded anger, at being lied to, at being left alone, at being forced out of your home. “This family? This family lies and destroys and I can’t--I won’t stay in this.”
“The baby--”
“Is no longer any of your concern,” you spit at him, before storming out of the library.
Within three hours, you’ve packed everything you could, and left.
Look out for part two soon!
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Have you watched Almost Royal?
I AM an ED GAMBLE FAN, and have seen ALL of Almost Royal
I AM and ED GAMBLE FAN, and have seen SOME of Almost Royal
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I AM an AMY HOGGART FAN, and have seen SOME of Almost Royal
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I'm NOT a fan of Ed OR Amy. I HAVE HEARD of the show, but HAVE NOT SEEN it
I'm NOT a fan of Ed OR Amy specifically, BUT I've seen SOME/ ALL of Almost Royal
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If I fucked up and missed an obvious option, please let me know. This was so frustrating to word all the answers.
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