You have singularly made my screen time go up by 2 hours for the past like 5 days, I'm obsessed. I'm not even reading as much ao3, I'm just waiting for your next post.
So the fantasy abo universe, beautiful. I see the love struck look in a midnight garden between the two and they are simply so in love and can't bear to be separated, but they must, for now. Charles gives his Max a lingering kiss to the cheek before slipping back to the palace for the night and Max is simply star struck that this beautiful omega seems to like him back.
The next morning, Max is in meetings with the King, who is desperately trying to keep Charles. He is offering everything else, land, money, army's, his own children, but our dear Max has his heart locked on one thing only. He interrupts the king and tells him in no uncertain terms that he will have Charles or he will burn the entire kingdom to the ground with his own hands.
The doors to the great hall slam open at that moment and our poor Charlie is roughly dragged in by guards, only wearing a tiny slip, and tears rolling down his cheeks. The guards tell the king that Charles was packing his things to leave with Max. The king is furious and starts to yell at Charles before a knife sticks perfectly between his fingers.
Max stands with a deathly calm to his full height, I'm seeing a black fur around his shoulders and black leather armor of sorts. Without sparing one more glance at the king or his court, he walks over to Charles and unhooks his fur, wrapping it around him oh so gently to cover the shaking omega. Max, with the utmost care, gently lifts Charles into his arms, a small kiss to his forehead as Charles whines softly, borrowing into his alphas chest.
Max walks out of the chamber with the final message of Charles being his omega, and that Max can and will destroy everything the kings cares about to the point his great grand children will have nothing to live for as he walks out with the most precious thing in his life.
Just a thought :)
~Q9
Hi Q9 Anon! ☺️
Fantasy ABO: Part 1, Part 2
Previously:
But his Alpha is relentless. "I will fight all the empires on this earth for you, La Perla. And I will win."
"Charles."
His Alpha's brow furrows at the abrupt shift.
But the Omega is insistent. "My name is Charles, your highness. If I am to be your bride, then I command you call me by my name." He dimples up at him, hope threatening to burst out of his chest.
"Charles." He repeats, in that low, throaty voice with its harsh consonants and rocking horse cadence. "Mijn Charles." He exhales, pressing their foreheads together. "At last."
We are back with our Alpha King Max and the coveted Monegasque court dancer who stole his heart with a sway of his hips, a mischievous smile, and a chase through the hedge maze 🌹🌷
Max carrying his tear-stained love out of throne room and immediately ripping off his cloak to wrap around a trembling Charles. His Charles.
His beautiful bride who'd been hurt, humiliated, and terrorized all the for the crime of being Max's.
Without another word, the king sweeps Charles into his arms once, carrying him bridal style to his own chambers. He orders his personal guards to deliver a message to the emperor: He has three days, no more, to agree to Max's terms or else the warrior-king will unleash hell on earth upon the empire.
And he will not relent until each palace is burnt to the ground and the emperor's head is speared on a pike outside the gates of Verstappen Castle.
Until then, the Alpha gently lays his Omega down on the enormous bed, still rumpled from the king's tossing and turning last night as his very being screamed at him to break into Charles's chambers and carry him away to Holland.
It's an astonishing sight—the warmongering king known for pummeling his enemies with bloodied fists and leading armies to conquest now cradling the cheek of the famed La Perla, the rough callouses of his palm pressed against Charles's skin. He watches those wounded green eyes flutter shut, watches how Charles leans into Max's touch.
The scent of fear, distress, and panic slowly fades as Charles nuzzles against Max's hand, his body slowly relaxing as he realizes he's safe. He's with Alpha now, surrounded by the king's scent and Max looming on top of him, unwilling to move away.
He knows that his Omega will want to cuddle in his arms, that he'll want reassurance and affection and comfort after the brutal display in court. Max leans down and presses his lips against Charles's forehead, leaving soft, feather-light kisses down his temple, cheeks, and jaw.
"You will rest," he murmurs, "and I will hold you close. And for every bruise those guards forced onto your skin, I will make them pay with their own flesh and blood."
It's terrifying—the eerie calm with which Max speaks.
To anyone else, it would have been a sign to break away. To realize that those soft words and sweet smiles in the garden were only a part of Max, not his whole being.
That there is a reason for his reputation.
There is a reason for the fear that shoots up people's spines when they hear his name.
There is a reason why they whisper the Dutch monarch has built a kingdom on ash and bone.
But to La Perla, the dancer who personified summer and beauty? He opens those emerald green eyes, puffy from tears and red from exhaustion.
He looks at the Alpha who will take him away from the comfortable life he has known, from the friends he has made and the warmth of the Monegasque Empire—
And he smiles, dimples on full display. "Will you break their bones, mon roi?" He murmurs, one hand tracing the scars on Max's jaw. "And cut out their tongues for laughing at me as I wept?"
"I will. I swear to you, mijn schatje, for every ounce of pleasure they gained from your torment, I will ensure they suffer tenfold. A thousandfold. Anything for you, mijn lief. Anything at all." His sapphire eyes blaze with the sort of furious passion that can only be seen on a battlefield, raw emotion that burns hotter than the sun's rays.
"And you will adore me? When I leave here with you?" He whispers. "I am very spoiled, you know. I will demand kisses and attention and every ounce of your heart." He cups the king's face, thumbs stroking the rough stubble. "If I am not adored, I will hurt you in ways you cannot imagine."
In that moment, the Dutch king can feel the force of the universe crashing over him—he is mine, the Alpha snarls, ordained by the heavens themselves. Charles, the pearl of my world, he belongs to me.
"Should I hurt you in any way my love, then I ask this of you." From the leather sheath by his waist, the king pulls out a small knife, sharpened to perfection, and mounted on a silver and pearl handle.
Max doesn't hesitate.
He takes one of his love's hands and holds it between their chests, right against Max's beating heart.
Gently, he presses the handle of the knife into the Omega's palm.
"Take your pound of flesh for every hurt you suffer. I am yours, mijn koningin. Yours in every way."
He watches his little love hold the knife a little tighter. And then, in one fell swoop, the king finds himself on his back, his precious boy straddling him—
And a pearl-handled blade pressed against his throat.
"You love me?" His Omega sniffles with a tilt of his head.
"More than that." The king looks into those piercing emerald eyes. "More than love, more than desire. You are the only heaven I believe in."
And when Charles hears these words?
When he presses the knife against the king's throat and draws a thin stream of blood?
He knows he has made the right choice.
He pulls the knife away, placing it on the bedside table before leaning down, forearms bracketing either side of his Alpha.
"Kiss me, mon roi." He demands. "Kiss me and let me be yours too."