Would you possibly consider writing a little blurb for the sleepover on reader and Tom from royal inconvenience 🥹
A Royal Convenience || Tom Holland
a royal convenience blurb - i highly suggest reading the series before this!
my spring sleepover
Both you and Tom lay wrapped in each other’s arms soundly, dozing off to the sound of the staff scampering around the palace outside of your bedroom door. He ran his fingers through your hair mindlessly as you began to breathe heavier and more even. Eventually, he’d completely fallen victim to exhaustion as well.
Neither of you would ever understand how so many royals slept in different beds from their spouses. From the night you were first married and onwards, neither of you had been without the other unless Tom was out of Buckingham Palace on business.
It was always just the most comfortable method of sleep, tangled up in the other’s limbs. Despite Tom’s drooling and your low snores, you both loved the other’s touch so much that you could look past this.
In the late hours of your sleep, the noise of two little feet could be heard running down the corridor of the palace. Very few candles remained lit, yet he came barreling towards the door of your bedroom. A low creaking noise could be heard from your door, making you blink a few times.
“Mummy,” James whispered, shutting the door behind him.
At only four, James had discovered that by coming into your room in the wee hours of the night and climbing under the duvet from the bottom of the bed, he was in good shape to get cuddled by mum.
“Come here, darling,” you yawned.
James climbed up the bed and wrapped his arms around your body, nuzzling his head into your hair and kissing the side of your face in adoration. Tom awoke in confusion, realizing it was only his youngest son in the bed with them. He leaned over and kissed you chastely, running a hand down James’s back.
“What’s wrong, Jamie?” He whispered. “Are you still having night terrors?”
James nodded into your hair, holding you tighter as you rocked him a bit. Tom rubbed his eyes, running a hand through his disheveled hair. One thing you were grateful of was that Tom had never tried to make your sons feel bad for expressing emotions as his father once did to him. Tom let them be open and honest about how they felt.
“That’s alright, love,” he told James with a small smile that could hardly be seen in the dark. “You just sleep in here tonight.”
Summary: A life you never wanted with a man you loathe. Life in the royal court has always been sour, but when you’re forced into a loveless marriage with the person you despise the most, you realize what little control you truly have.
Pairing: Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader
Warnings: angst, swearing, major character death, forced marriage, depression, SMUT (easily skippable), typos, (more to be added)
Status: Completed
Chapters that include smut are marked by *
a/n: can’t wait to start this adventure with you! comments and reblog are greatly appreciated 💗
moodboard made by @evyzyii (she’s amazing, send her some love!) ps. she makes them for free ;)
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➳ Prologue: She Will Destroy You
Summary: (Y/N) hates lace trimming, satin, sipping her tea, and the entirety of her life in the royal court. But most of all, she hates silly British boys that happen to resemble frogs.
Word Count: 7.3k
➳ Chapter One: Love Persevering
Summary: (Y/N) returns to court, burdened with the knowledge of the duty she must fulfill. Harrison proves to be the most trust ally in court, and Tom proves to be yet another hurdle for (Y/N) to jump.
Word Count: 7.3k
➳ Chapter Two: Tears of Gold
Summary: In the aftermath of Tom’s betrayal, (Y/N) begins to feel more and more out of place at court. Nikki and Dom do what they can to push Tom to make the right choice regarding his marriage. (Y/N) is forced to face the girl in the mirror, and it’s safe to say that she doesn’t like her.
Word Count: 6.1k
➳ Chapter Three: Once Upon A Dream
Summary: Painted in hues of black and white, (Y/N) reminisces about her time in France as her and Tom are bounded to each other for life. James decides to fight for what he believes is his, Tom decides to do the right thing, and Hawthorne finally becomes aware of his fatal error.
Word Count: 5k
➳ Chapter Four: First Love/Late Spring*
Summary: (Y/N) is definitely not a fan of hens in court, Nikki is more of lioness than originally thought, Tom needs to learn to keep his mouth shut, but it’s okay because he finds a better use for it instead. And Tom realizes that maybe he does like serpents.
Word Count: 9.2k
➳ Chapter Five: Two Birds*
Summary: (Y/N) recalls the last time she ever saw Dahlia and how strained her relationship with her sister had become before she left for France, her mother, as always, is no help to her emotional woes, but thankfully, now she has Tom in her corner. All is bliss on Tom’s birthday, until a certain lady with a vendetta against (Y/N) present her gift to Tom.
Word Count: 5.4k
➳ Chapter Six: All For You*
Summary: Tom has to do his best to win back (Y/N)’s affections and prove that his love for her is as true as love can be, Lizzie leaves with a final warning to (Y/N), and time flies as James makes the arrangements to weasel his way into the palace.
Word Count: 7.1k
➳ Chapter Seven: Violent*
Summary: After the death of a loved one, Tom realizes where his priorities need to lie; with his wife and nation. Harrison pleads with Ivy to spare him the pain of heartbreak, while a certain someone pays him a visit, coincidentally looking for the same thing, though his intentions may be a little more… nefarious.
Word Count: 6.9k
➳ Chapter Eight: Exile
Summary: James can not pinpoint where it all went wrong as he plays back his fondest memories of (Y/N). Tom promises to make it up to (Y/N), granting her whatever she desires, which means sending Harrison to France to fetch someone dear to her. (Y/N) pays a final visit to her old friend, before their inevitable goodbye.
Word Count: 5.4k
➳ Chapter Nine: Falling
Summary: A rift forms between Tom and (Y/N) as the former seems to grasp air in his attempts to soothe the latter. Harrison and Ivy travel to France, and while one finds it to be all on business, the other finds pleasure in the little things. A surprise guest enters the English court, spoiling an otherwise lovely coronation.
Word Count: 6.4k
➳ Chapter Ten: Broken Glass
Summary: Threats are made as (Y/N) tries to expel the evil from her home. Arthur proves to be the leading light in her life, while Tom proves to be... easily manipulated. Now who’s truly the bad guy?
Word Count: 9.1k
➳ Chapter Eleven: Clipped Wings
Summary: Tom tries his best to keep his secrets from slipping out, but the truth always has a way of presenting itself.
Word Count: 7.8k
➳ Chapter Twelve: Little Dove
Summary: Tom quickly realizes how deeply his betrayal stung. However, in his attempts to make it better, he only adds more fuel to a raging fire, leaving a tiny trail of blood in it’s wake.
Word Count: 15.3k
➳ Chapter Thirteen: Evil? Most Definitely
Summary: (Y/N) battles the darkness taking shape in her mind, the kind that only bloodshed can quell. But in the end, darkness only attracts that like itself, and what a mess this has become.
Word Count: 10.6k
➳ Chapter Fourteen: Listen Before I Go*
Summary: With Ida’s life on the line, (Y/N) is finally forced to come face to face with the demon in her court. The resulting battle is calamitous.
Word Count: 10.5k
➳ Epilogue: Glimpse of Us
Summary: Life in the royal court goes on, with or without you.
Summary: You had always wanted to get married, but when the pressure of an arranged marriage and what comes with the position of queen change your mind?
Word Count: 5885 (most I’ve ever written omg)
Warnings: swearing, one mention of sex, brief panic attack (it’s only the reader being out of breath; nothing too specific), ANGST, character death
Bingo Card: Runaway Bride/Groom, Sick Character, and Unrequited Love
A/N: Soooo this is my very first Tom fic! I am actually extremely proud of it and I am so excited to share it with you guys. This is for @venomsilk ‘s Valentines Day Writing Challenge and I loved the prompt I got. This was originally supposed to be a Fratboy college AU with the middle row, but it wasn’t working out. Anyways…I really hope you guys enjoy this!
“Thomas.” Dominic signaled for his son to take the seat in front of him. He ran through stacks and stacks of paper. Files and schedules.
Tom took the seat. “Yes, father?”
“In a few days time, we will have some visitors from the kingdom of Italy visiting and I want you to be on your best behavior.” He sifted through more papers, sipping on his wine.
“But father,” he laughed. “I am always behaved. It’s Harry and Sam that you have to worry about-”
“Thomas. This is a serious matter.”
“Oh.” He sat up straighter, fixing his collar. “What is it?” Worry coated his features. Dominic had not been doing well lately. He had been sleeping less, the bags present under his eyes.
“This is a very important visit. The kingdom of Italy has agreed to join forces with us.” Oh. “Their eldest daughter, Y/N, is of age and they have agreed for her to marry you.”
Tom’s face hardened. “I see.”
“Oh don’t act like this is a shock,” Dom scoffed. “You knew this time would come. It was only a matter of when. A king cannot rule without a queen by his side. That is the law and you will abide by it.”
He knew that was the last word. There was no changing it. No changing the law at that. He knew that day was to come, but so quickly? It felt unreal. He wasn’t ready for marriage. He wanted to say something. To protest. But he knew his efforts would make no change. So he just nodded with a simple ‘Yes, father,’ and made his way back to the dining room.
His mother Nikki, saw his solemn look. “Thomas, what’s wrong?”
“Father just informed me that I will be getting married.”
She nodded. “Oh yes. The Princess of Italy is very lovely. You’ll love her.” She smiled warmly at him as he sat down.
Harry looked as though he was going to bust. “You have to get married. What a loser,” he laughed.
“Shut it, you div,” Tom fired back. “It’ll be your turn next.”
“Both of you hush.” Nikki interrupted before anything else was said. “Now, eat.”
—-
“Y/N!” Your mother called.
Today was the day. You were off to meet your future husband. Otherwise known as Thomas Holland, future king of England. Nerves settled in you as you made your way to the carriage. Marriage was a complicated subject for you. You had always wanted to get married, but the thought of being traded off to someone whom you had never met before? That was terrifying. Alas, you knew it was to come. You had been training for it since the day you could walk. Lessons on politics, countries, economics, court; it was exhausting. But you were ready to be a queen.
The carriage started moving with a rough jolt from the horses. It was official. You had said all your goodbyes to your friends as this was the last time you would see your home.
—-
Rain poured down. The streets were flooded and mud covered the roads. The horses almost couldn’t get through, but they pushed on. The only umbrella you carried was a white lace one, and only that was for show and shade. As soon as you stepped out onto the cobblestone of the new palace, your dress was soaked.
A man rushed up to your carriage and took your hand. His hair was matted from the downpour, and from this proximity, you could see his light freckles. He helped you across the walkway and into the palace. He offered you his jacket for warmth. You took it politely.
He turned to you. “Lady Y/N. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am-”
“Thomas, son, look at you!” Another man walked forth. He looked as though he was angry. He had the same features as the man beside you. “What on Earth are you doing?”
“Oh, I was waiting on Y/N’s carriage to arrive and then it started to rain, so I helped her out.”
You shivered from the cold. “You must be King Dominic. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasures all mine, dear.” He gently took your hand and bowed slightly. “Have you met my son Thomas?”
He motioned to the man next to you. So that was Prince Thomas. Okay.
Tom bowed in the same manner as his father. “Nice to meet you.” He took your hand in his as well, but this time raised it to his lips. You felt your cheeks heat up instantly.
Your father and mother came in and greeted Dominic as they walked off. You stayed behind a little to talk with Tom.
“So,” you both said in unison. It caught you both off guard and you two laughed.
“You first,” you said.
“Well,” Tom started. “How was the ride up?”
You sighed deeply. “It was…pleasant.”
“Not great?”
“It was fine. My parents keep lecturing me on what to do and what not to do, even though I’ve been training for my whole life. It gets exhausting.”
Tom looked at you thoughtfully. “I completely understand. My father,” he paused. “He can be…strict. But that’s what a king is supposed to be for his son. Strictness is a necessity for a king.” He looked away, lost in thought, his eyes far away.
“Thomas, keep up, son.”
You both sped up the pace, walking alongside your parents. The guards and King Dominic showed your family around the palace. They showed you the dining hall, bedrooms, and the great ballroom.
“Your living quarters were only down the hall from Tom’s, should you need anything,” Dominic said.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” You nodded.
He smiled. “Please, call me Dom.” He turned towards Tom. “Son, if you would like to take Lady Y/N around the gardens?”
“Yes, father.” He took your hand and led you to the garden.
It was beautiful. Colors ranging from blue to red were scattered everywhere. Rose bushes of yellow and pink lined the walls of the castle. Shrubs cut various shapes and sizes, hydrangeas of purple and pink, lotus flowers in the nearby pond, all right in front of your eyes. To the left, a single willow tree, fully grown, stood out of it all. You were immediately drawn to it.
Tom noticed how your eyes couldn’t stay off the tree. He took your hand once again and led you to the great Willow. “This tree has stood here my entire life. My brothers and I used to hide behind it when we played.” He smiled at the memory.
You placed your hand on its bark. The feeling of it puts you at ease. “We had one back in Italy. In our garden. I would always sit under it whenever things got stressful and I would bring my book and read. Sometimes I would get distracted by just the way the leaves swayed in the wind.”
“You are always free to come here whenever you want. You can make this your special place.”
Right. Whenever you wanted. This was your home now. There was no going back to Italy. This wasn’t an annual visit. This was permanent as England was your home now. There was no changing that and the thought of it almost made you sick. You had said goodbye to your friends before you left. There was no tea with Cecilia anymore, no walks with Evelyn. It was over. This was the next chapter in your life, but you knew it was to come.
“Are you okay?”
Tom pulled you out of your homesickness. “Yeah - yes - I’m fine.” You discretely wiped a tear from your cheek. You held your arm. “Shall we?”
—
The dinner was amazing. Roasted duck with potatoes. It was your new favorite meal.
“Y/N, how is it dear?”
You looked up at the Queen. Nikki, she said to call her. “It’s fantastic. All of this is.”
“That’s wonderful, dear.”
Tom’s youngest brother, Paddy, turned to you. “Have you kissed Tom yet?”
You choked on your water and started coughing controllably as Tom patted your back. “Pardon?”
“Paddy,” his mother scolded. “You shouldn’t ask a lady that.”
“It’s alright, Nikki. And um, no, we haven’t.”
“That’s rude, Pa-“ Dominic coughed. He started to beat his chest in an attempt to stop it, but it only made the coughing worse.
Nikki instantly rushed over. “Dom, sweetie are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Nikki.” He coughed again. “Just choked on air. That’s all.” She didn’t look convinced, but she sat down nonetheless.
Something about it seemed off to you. The way he thought nothing of it. Maybe it was just choking on air, but it seemed off.
“Well,” Dominic started. “Dessert anyone?”
—-
The constant hacking and coughing was getting to Dominic. After months of treatments and remedies he thought it would stop. Maybe it was the wear of the job. Perhaps a seasonal illness. But for two months?
He knew he should’ve told Nikki as soon as he spotted the blood in the toilet. The moment he knew something wasn’t right. But what was he supposed to do? Worry his queen? Absolutely not. He loved her with all his heart and putting her through worry was not an option. He had a country to run. A duty to fulfill. His primary focus was putting his country in a good place for transition and that was what he was going to do.
“How is it Doctor?” He asked. He was lying in his bed, Nikki was away having tea with the ladies of court, so he was in the clear.
“Well Your Majesty…the odds are not great. Your skin has become yellowish and some abdominal pain in the upper right of your stomach. Your urine sample was darker than most.” He packed his medical supplies. “Have you smoked recently or have been upping your alcohol intake?”
He thought of it for a moment. He had been having more and more glasses of wine along with the occasional brandy with the lords of the palace. Maybe a glass before bed. “The stress has led me to the bottle a few times.”
“Ah, just try to lay off the bottle for now. I know first hand that it can be a tad bit addictive, but for now, try for water, sire.”
—-
A knock at your door woke you up. It was just barely daybreak, and you just wanted to crawl back to bed. Your mother, dressed and ready for the day, was at the door.
“Y/N, get dressed; you have to attend tea with the other ladies.” She said this hurriedly as if you were late. This was the first you were hearing about tea with the ladies.
The chambermaids helped you with the corset. Damned thing. It was so tight you couldn’t breath, or walk, or eat. Awful.
“Mother, I don’t see why I have to get dressed up for this,” you said as one of the chambermaids tightened the corset too tight. “It’s just tea.”
“That’s the point. It’s tea. Tea is one of the most social events for a lady and future queen. You talk with the other ladies, gossip, have fun.”
“I don’t see how gossiping is fun. It’s childish and wastes time. I gain nothing from it.”
“You gain the ladies' trust.” Her word was final and tea was happening.
You walked with your mother to the sitting room where you met Nikki.
“Y/N, dear.” She gently pulled you aside. “One thing you should know about these ladies is that they take gossip very seriously. So take everything they say with a grain of salt. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She led you to sit next to her as your mother sat across from you. A few minutes later, the others started to trickle in. They all sat and said their hellos to you. You greeted them each by name having studied who they were and what their role was. It was exhausting, but you didn’t mind.
“How have you enjoyed your visit so far?” One of the ladies, Clarissa you learned, asked. She was a tall lady with short, raven black hair. Her perfume was pungent as it smelled of a mix of pine and vanilla.
You took a sip of your tea. “It’s been lovely. The queen and king have been ever so kind as to let us join kingdoms with them.”
“Speaking of joining kingdoms,” another woman, Lady Anne, joined the conversation. “Have you and Prince Thomas…” she trailed off, as she raised a brow. The others snickered as you stayed silent.
You cleared your throat as Nikki quirked an eyebrow at you. “No, we haven’t. He hasn’t even taken me on a date yet.”
Clarissa leaned forward. “Surely you two have kissed?”
“No,” you smiled. It was tiring hearing the same questions over and again. No, you haven’t kissed and no the two of you haven’t seen each other bare, and no you were not in love with him. You sipped more on your tea wanting this to be over with.
—-
“Hello, love.”
Your gaze shifted from the duck filled pond to the prince in front of you. You smiled as you set your book down. “Fancy meeting you here.”
He sat next to you. The day was warm, but the willow tree provided shade for the both of you. He understood why you loved these trees now. It was peaceful. Listening to the chirping of birds and the way the bees buzzed around the flowers. It was nice.
He saw the glimmer in your eyes as you watched the mother duck guide her offspring along. You smiled softly as they waddled across the grass. Your whole self seemed to be glowing on today. Nothing was special about this meeting. He simply wanted to be with you. It was soon, but he liked you. Maybe this deal wasn’t so bad.
“Y/N,” he started.
You turned to face him, giving him all your attention. “Yes?”
“I came down here when I saw you to ask if you would like to -“
“Tom!”
“Your Majesty!”
You both turned towards the palace to see a guard flanked by Harry, running towards the two of you.
Thomas stood up, annoyed. “What is it, you div?”
“Tom,” Harry breathed out. “It’s father.”
“What?”
The guard took the lead. “Sire, the King isn’t well.”
The look on Tom’s face instantly changed. From the happy and hopeful look he had on when he was with you, it changed to the hard look when he was at court. Only this wasn’t court, this was about his father. “Take me to him.”
When Tom entered he almost broke at the sight. Sam held a crying Paddy against his chest. His eyes were as red and blotchy as Paddy’s. Harry walked over to check on his mother, who simply nodded as she went back to holding Dominic’s hand. She looked distraught, worry coated her features for her husband. And Dominic, he looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn’t slept in days. His skin had turned a sickening yellowish color. The doctor had an arrangement of various medicines and tools across the room. His father smiled as he saw Tom enter his bed chambers.
“Thomas,” Dom tried sitting up but as soon as he did, he coughed frantically as Nikki sat him back down.
Tom walked to the other side of his bed. “Father? What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” he coughed. His voice was raspy and strained. “Just a common cold is what the doctor says.” He put on a smile.
The doctor stepped in. “It most certainly is not. There…there is no easy way to put this.” He looked directly in Tom’s eyes. “Your father is dying.”
No. This couldn’t be happening. He was too young. King’s were supposed to die of old age with a good life fulfilled. “What-what caused this?” He blinked back the tears.
“Liver damage. I am so sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.”
Tom was silent for a moment. His brain couldn’t process this. It came too quickly. All his thoughts and worries were coming true. “Can you give me and father a minute please?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Nikki took one last look at her husband before she gathered the boys. She kissed Thomas on the cheek as she went out the door. Soon, it was just Tom and his father and the weight of the world on both their shoulders. He sat down in Nikki’s spot.
The room was quiet, all except for the sound of their breathing.
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t understand what, son?”
Tom wiped his nose. “How this happened.”
“Drinking too much. Stress of being king, stress of the court, a lot of things really, it gets to you. And so I turned to drinking. I thought if I had one drink it would be okay. And soon the feeling of the alcohol turned irresistible and I couldn’t resist. One glass at dinner turned into one glass at dinner and two before bed. After that it just progressed from there.” He paused to catch his breath. He looked at Tom. “I thought I couldn’t talk to your mother about it. Thought she wouldn’t understand. Don’t be like me, Thomas. Don’t turn to something that can’t comfort you. Soon, you’ll have a lovely wife who will do everything in her power to make sure you don’t go down this hole.”
Tom drew in a shaky breath. Dominic’s hand reached towards his. “Son, you’re going to be a great king one day. One better than I ever was.”
“Don’t talk like that. Please,” he begged. “You can’t leave us. Who’s going to teach me strategies and court? I still have so much to learn.” The tears came freely now. There was no use holding them back.
Dominic laughed. “You already know that stuff. You are ready. You have always been ready. This country is lucky to have you as her future king.” It was Dom’s turn to let the barrier down. “Promise me one thing, Thomas.”
“What is it?”
“Take care of your mother for me. She will be a wreck on your coronation day, I know it,” he smiled. “You are the best son I could ever ask for. Don’t tell the others.”
For once in this conversation, Tom smiled. “I won’t.”
Dominic smiled at his first born. He took in his features one last time. His kind eyes. The ruffled curls that sat atop his head. His confident form. The form of a king. He did good at teaching his son the way of the kingdom. At least, he thought he did. “Be good for me, son.”
“Father,” Tom choked on his words. The lump in his throat was overwhelming. “Please no.”
He watched as his eyes closed. His breathing eventually slowed.
It all happened too fast.
“Father?” Silence.
Tom gently patted Dom’s arm. He had to be sleeping, that was it. But even when his breathing came to a stop, Tom refused it. He refused to believe the one person in his life, who had shown him his purpose, who had given him meaning, was gone.
Soon the only sound in the room were the shakey exhales and faint cries of a broken son.
—-
Three days. Three days since you two were in the garden. That was the last time you talked to him. Three days since you saw Tom walking through the hallways wiping his eyes. He didn’t speak to anyone. Only the doctor when he stepped out of the king's room.
You didn’t know him well. You only knew the bare minimum for casual conversation, but you still cared for him. Because that was you. You would help anyone or anything that needed it. Some of the ladies found it endearing, others found it a weakness. But something in you told you to go to Tom’s study. It wasn’t far from your bed chambers, just up the hall.
You knocked on his door. Nothing. “Thomas,” You said softly. “I’m coming in.” You turned the knob slowly as you entered the study. He looked awful.
Tom was working furiously over his desk, signing papers and letters and whatnot. But his whole appearence was awful. His hair was all over the place and he had bags under his eyes which were red and puffy. He was tired. There was a plate of untouched steak and roasted potatoes by his desk. Last night’s dinner. So he’s not eating.
“Y/N.” He looked up at you, his eyes widening. “What are you doing here?”
You moved a chair from his desk to move beside him. “Checking up on you. As far as I know you have not left this room for three days. Either that or I keep missing you in the halls and dinner.”
“You needn’t worry about me. I’m fine, love.” He rubbed his eyes as he yawned.
You pointed a finger at him. “That. That right there is why I’m worried about you.”
“I swear I’m fine. Just a little tired. I stayed up kind of late doing paperwork.” He smiled at you as if that would give you a solid answer. You could tell that he was getting agitated quickly. You were an expert in this arena.
“Thomas,” you said sternly. “You need sleep. I can see-”
“Stop telling me I need to sleep!” He didn’t miss the little flinch from you. “I-I’m sorry, Y/N,” his voice softened. “It’s just… everyone who comes in here, tells me the same fucking thing. ‘Tom you need sleep,’ ‘You need to eat,’ ‘Tom we’re so worried about you.’” He ran his hands over his face and breathed deeply. “It’s exhausting.”
“I know, Tom.”
“No, Y/N, you don’t. You don’t know how hard it’s been without him. I can’t sleep and I can’t eat because without him I am no one. I’m just a poor, broken, little boy without him.” A tear ran down his cheek.
You placed your hand on his arm. “That’s not true.” You put your other hand on his cheek. “Thomas, look at me.” He looked at you not as the regal prince like the day you met him, but as a boy, who had just lost everything. “You are broken, but broken things come back stronger. Broken people come back stronger. Your father is gone and you are lost, but you have people around you who are willing to guide you. You just have to let them.”
The look he gave you wasn’t resentment nor sadness, but relief. He fell into your arms holding onto you as if you would disappear. He let go. He let go of everything that he was holding back. The tears, the sobs, everything. “Every time I close my eyes I see him, Y/N. I see him just lying in his bed. Do you know how hard this is for me?”
“I do, Tom,” you whispered. You held him for forever. He was fragile and you were the one who held him in your arms.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” his voice was muffled by your sleeve.
“For what?”
He pulled away from you. “For yelling. You didn’t deserve it. You were just trying to help.”
“Do not apologize for simply letting go, Thomas.”
He felt awful at how he ignored everyone. Ignored you. He felt like he pushed you away even though you two barely knew each other. But he saw how kind you were to people and how funny and relaxed you came to be in the time of knowing one another. He looked into your eyes. He noticed how they softened when they looked at him.
His eyes flickered down to your lips. “Y/N, I…” He couldn’t find the words, but he leaned in anyway. His lips were mere inches from yours.
“What are you doing?” You whispered.
Whatever trance he was in, quickly left. His eyes widened and he immediately backed away. “Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he ran a hand through his hair, stammering. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, it’s alright. But you’re hurting. I don’t think it would be best.”
He sat down. “You’re right.”
You walked towards the door. “Get some sleep, Thomas.”
He didn’t say anything. He simply gave you a tight lipped smile as you closed his study door.
What just happened? Your mind couldn’t even process it properly. The mind makes you do rash actions when in grief. That was one of them.
—-
“We need to act now. Our country is in pieces.”
The courtroom chattered in agreement. It was filled with all old men and a few of their wives. Of course you and Thomas were involved as well. Now that Dominic was gone, Nikki had taken over the throne, but not permanently as it was not safe for a woman to rule all alone. Insane.
“The prince and princess need to join the kingdoms now. With Italy at our side we will strengthen our forces and be set for war.”
Nikki straightened in her chair. “What on Earth are you talking about, Lord Aften?”
Lord Aften, a small pudgy man with thinning hair, eyed her. “My nephew in Scotland said to me that there are talks of war between us. They want our land. And they will try to act fast because of our weakened state.”
“Our country is not weakened just because I sit upon the throne,” Nikki snapped.
Lord Finely raised his head. “You know the law, Your Highness.”
“I do,” she sighed. “I do not like it, but if it needs to be done then so be it.”
That caught Thomas’ attention. He narrowed his eyes on his mother, in search of an answer to the internal questions he had.
“We will do it as tradition. The two will be married in the chapel. As was I, and Dominic's parents before him.”
This couldn’t be happening.
The men were dismissed after the decision was made. You and Tom were going to be married in who knows when. When you rose from your seat, you could Nikki muttering under breath.
“War,” she scoffed. “Swear no one ever fucking tells me anything.”
If this is what being queen meant you didn’t want any part of it.
Thomas had been distant lately. Sure, you didn’t know one another well, but he still made an effort to visit you. But since that night in his study you hadn’t seen him at all. It was as if he was avoiding you.
You decided to give him time, to gather himself from the events that happened so quickly. You couldn’t blame him. He needed to be comforted, but you couldn’t in the way he wanted. It wouldn’t have been good for either of you.
You missed him though. He was the only company you had at this strange new place. Even his brothers, who were younger than you, had company for themselves. Harry had the princess of France and Sam had found company with one of your chambermaids. It was sweet. You would always find her smiling and singing to herself. You once caught them both on your way to the dining hall; Sam made the biggest deal of it.
But there you were, all alone. And the thought of the marriage swinging like a sword above your head didn’t help. It only made things worse. The stress. The pressure. It was too much for you. You felt like a bird trapped in its cage with its wings bound.
You needed to get to get to tea with the ladies. That was essentially your only social time. You couldn’t go outside the castle without the guards, and that was only when some event was happening.
You rounded the corner and you heard voices. Some would call you a curious soul, which you were, so you listened as you found a spot to stand unseen.
“We chose the date for later this week.”
“Are you insane?” One voice said. Thomas.
“Tom, you know what you have to do,” Nikki sighed.
“Yes, but don’t you think it is a little too early for bullshit?”
“Do not start with that language.”
He clenched his jaw. “Don’t you think we should have a say in it? It’s our lives and something this big affects us-”
“That’s enough. What the lords say is final. I am your queen and what I say is final. You will marry her and you will behave. Are we clear?”
There was nothing for minutes. You were about to turn around until you heard Nikki speak again.
“What would your father say?”
“Don’t do that.”
She stared at him for a moment. “I know you are hurting, Thomas. We all are. But I cannot rule by myself. And a king cannot rule without a queen by his side. I’m sorry, but you have to do this.”
You heard her walk off, and soon you heard Thomas’ footsteps nearing you. You waited until you saw him walking down the hall away from you and you walked as quickly as you could to tea.
—-
You stayed still as your chambermaids painted your face. This was too much. The dress, the paint, everything.
In a matter of hours, you would be queen. Wife to Thomas. Ruler of England. Under enough pressure to crush the world. Teb air felt thinner; like you couldn’t get enough of it.
One of your chambermaids came over to you. “Are you alright, miss?”
“I can’t- I can’t breathe.”
“That’s just the corset, Miss.”
“No, it’s not-“ you couldn’t catch your breath. Your head felt lighter as you frantically looked around the room. All the maids were watching you with wide eyes. What was happening? The walls felt as though they were closing in on you. It was too much. The marriage. The position. You hated it.
“Miss, you should sit down.”
You listened and stared at the floor, trying to calm yourself. It didn’t work. Nothing worked. You wanted out. You needed out. It wasn’t going to work. You knew he didn’t want this. So why were you still going through with it? Because of the kingdom. The duty to fulfill. Just like Nikki told Thomas. What the lords say is final. “I need to leave,” you whispered.
One of your maids looked at you. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” You started to walk out the door. The yells of your maids were far behind you.
—-
Though the altar was beautiful, Tom hated it. It was a symbol of what was to come. To take away his freedom of choice. He liked you, he really did. He was going to take you on a date, but then his father passed. And then everything came crashing down on him like a wave.
Harrison, or Haz, Tom called him, came to join him up at the front. “How are you holding up, mate?”
“Fine. Stressed, resentful, you know, the usual,” he smiled.
Haz smiled back as he patted his shoulder. “Where’s Y/N?”
“Probably getting ready.”
“Sir,” a guard came up to the pair. “Someone needs to talk to you.”
Haz and Tom both shared a strange look as he followed the guard to the side.
A woman, one of your chambermaids he noticed, came up to him. “Your Highness, it’s Lady Y/N; we can’t find her.”
“What?”
She continued on. “We tried everywhere in the palace. She’s not here.”
Instantly he went into panic mode. Just because he didn’t want to marry yet, didn’t mean he didn’t care about you. You tried to comfort him, and you helped him. You took care of him, even just through words. He needed to find you.
“Haz,” he turned to his friend. “Tell everyone to wait.”
“Where are you going?”
He ran towards the door. “To get Y/N.”
The garden was quiet. The only sounds were the birds chirping and the small sound of the bees buzzing. It was peaceful here. It didn’t take him long to find you sitting under the tree. “Hey.”
You stared at the pond across from you, watching as the lotus flower moved slightly with the wind. You didn’t answer him. He sat down next to you, still in his suit.
“I thought you would be here,” he said.
“What are you doing here, Thomas?”
He looked at you. “Nothing in particular; to talk maybe.”
“What are you here to talk about?” You matched his eyes.
“Anything you want. It is your day after all,” he smirked.
You twiddled your fingers together. “And yours.”
“I’m sorry for avoiding you, Y/N. You helped me get my shit together and then I just completely took it for granted. You didn’t deserve it.”
“No, it’s okay. I think you needed it. To be alone. I did when my grandmother passed. I didn’t talk to my parents for weeks.” You took a deep breath in. “I can’t do this, Thomas.”
“Can’t do what?”
“This,” you gestured to the palace. “My whole life I thought I was ready for it. But when I came here, I realized how real it was. And everything just happened so fast. A-and we didn’t even get a chance to know one another and now…here we are.”
There was a comfortable silence between the two of you.
“I don’t want to get married.” You hung your head low as you spoke.
You two had only just met. You firmly believed in giving it time to love someone. You weren’t the type of person to fall head first for someone the moment you saw them. That wasn’t you. Maybe you would have if it hadn’t been for this deal. A deal of trading off two people for countries? You hated it. You wanted out. The marriage hanging over your head was suffocating you. You weren’t ready for it. No matter how much training or the classes you took, you were scared. Terrified even. It was all happening too soon.
If it hadn’t been for this kingdom, you wouldn’t be in this situation and some part of you; some deranged, awful part of you resented Tom for this deal.
But he didn’t wish to be in this situation either. The conversation you heard, he said himself it was too early for it.
“I don’t either.”
“I know.”
His eyes widened. “What? How?”
“After the meeting with the lords, I overheard you and Nikki talking.” He nodded.
“Maybe…” he started, “maybe we don’t have to be married.”
It was your turn for your eyes to widen. “How do you mean?”
“Well, uh, obviously we would still get married,” he stammered, “but it wouldn’t have to feel like we were.”
“I’m still not following.”
“I’m saying that we could take things slow. Like get the marriage out of the way, but after that take the time to get to know each other.”
“I’d like that. A lot.”
“Perfect. Then it is settled.” He stood up and held out his hand for you. “We will get married.”
You took his hand and joined him. “Do we still have to kiss?” You laughed.
Warnings:THIS IS EXCEPTIONALLY ANGSTY SO THAT IS MY WARNING
Summary: Prince Tom breaks your heart
A/N: This is for @drvrslcense Sour Writing Challenge, i am coming in right before the deadline lol! Thank you so much Cloy for making this a thing, I had an absolute blast writing this and also talking about Fangirl with you!
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The light broke through the long velvet curtains, cascading across the smooth face of the prince that laid in the satin sheets. Your feet were soft against the bare stone floor, moving towards the edge of the bed where your peaceful prince slept. He looked so tender, so gentle, you couldn’t help yourself, not that you ever could, your hand brushing away a stray curl that had fallen from his mop of brunette tendrils. Your fingertips trailing against his unwrinkled forehead as you did so. The soft touch of your skin on his drawing from his slumber, brown eyes dusted with golden flecks fluttering open as he met your gaze, a smile spreading across his cheeks.
“Princess” he mumbled, raising himself from the cocoon of his sheets and wrapping his arm around your apron clad waist, pulling you down on top of him, and oomph escaping your lips as your chest compressed on impact.
“Tom!” you chuckled trying to pull yourself back up, playfully fighting against his embrace, your body relaxing into his hold because the more you struggled the tighter he held you. His face was buried in your neck, feathering kisses along your exposed skin as you softened in his hold.
“Love” Tom whispered, pulling back and looking you in the eyes, it was a tender moment as you wiggled, pulling your arm from his hold and bringing it up, running your fingers through his soft locks, his eyes closing in pleasure as your nails scratched his scalp. “I don’t want to do anything today, I want to stay in bed with you” he seemed so childlike wanting nothing more than to remain with you.
“You know you have the meeting with the French Royal Family today” you spoke quietly, not wanting to break the atmosphere that you had culminated in but you realized that no matter how you had said that the mood would dissolve immediately.
“Right” he muttered, retracting his hold from you and pushing back against your chest, signaling you to stand up, which you did, brows furrowing as you watched him sit up against his headboard.
“Tom?” you tried to reach out to him but he had pulled away physically and emotionally, his body leaning from your touch.
“I’d better get ready for the meeting then” he hushed, eyes not meeting yours as he threw his blankets off of his legs.
“Oh okay” you felt lost, the once stable ground that your relationship had stood seemed to be liquifying, slipping away from under you, little did you know that soon all that would be left was the remnants of a landslide and rubble of broken hearts. You left his chambers with crinkled clothing, raising a hand to thr man that stood to the side, signaling for Tom’s help to join him and help him get ready for the meeting.
You were already standing in the corner of the throne room when Tom entered with the rest of his family, he walked up through the throngs of people that sat to the sides, his hands twitching in their proper hold as he eyes scanned the room, examining the crowd for familiar faces. His face fell dramatically when he caught your soft look, eagerly looking at him with a simple smile playing on your lips, he immediately pulled his eyes from you, examining the carpet beneath his feet as he finished his approach of the dreaded thrones. You remained watching confusedly, not paying attention to anything that was being said as all your focus was trained on Tom standing there next to his fathers throne, his composure seemed so off, souring further than it had when you had dragged him from his chambers earlier that morning. Your hands were folded properly behind your back, the words being spoken with such gusto yet falling on deaf ears as you couldn’t figure out what was wrong with your love.
“And now introducing Princess Lucy” one of the servants spoke, swinging his arm to the side as a stunning woman dressed in a light blue gown started making her way down the aisle, bowing slightly as she reached the steps before the throne.
She was stunning, absolutely beautiful in a way that signaled her money and privilege but not in the way that made you want to stare at her forever, finding the facade of perfection would crumble upon closer inspection.
“Now Prince Thomas, would you step down and join the Princess” the French king ordered, gesturing for Tom to go down and stand near his daughter. Tom moved reluctantly, moving slowly as he looked at you nervously, he seemed scared, and rightfully so.
“We have gathered here today to celebrate the betrothal of Thomas and Lucy” The king bellowed, the crowd cheering immediately in response but all you could hear was the deafening ring of silence in your ears, the blood rushing through you nearly halting as your body started to flush, without a word you turned, rushing out of the door, going to the only place you could think of to run too, Tom’s room, cursing yourself for finding solace in the domain of the man who had just torn your heart out, Tom’s eyes managing to catch your fleeing figure as his body started to take on the similar symptoms of heartbreak that you had just gone through.
You were sat on Tom’s bed, fiddling with your apron as the door creaked open, you immediately stood, readying to pretend that you had been tidying Tom’s room but your hands fell limp at your sides when you saw who it was. Tom stood in front of the closing door, the sight of him drying your mouth and silencing the anger in your blood, he looked so lost. Moments passed as you both stood their, unsure of what to do.
“You knew this morning” you said, not asking more stating, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had filled the space between the two of you since he had found you in his chambers, having snuck away from dinner.
“What?” he looked up at you for the first time since the announcement had been made in that ever echoing hall.
“You knew the announcement was going to be happening today, that is why you wanted to stay in bed all day, right?” your voice was surprisingly strong, you didn’t know where it was coming from, everything was falling away from beneath you.
“Yeah, yeah I did” he was looking anywhere but you, avoiding the confrontation of examining the tears that rimmed your eyes.
“How could you?” you choked out “Do you not care about me? Was I just a game to you?” his eyes shot up to you in shock, mouth falling open as he tried to process, how could you not see that you were his everything, an anger at your misunderstanding bubbling up in him.
“I would burn it all down for you, give it all up, how do you not see that?” Tom yelled at you, throwing his hands up in exasperation at your current state.
“Because when it came down to it you didn’t choose me and I don’t think you ever will.” you spat back, spite lacing every syllable that left your tongue. His features morphed quickly, the annoyance that had once been present in his eyes quickly switching to that of hurt and confusion.
“Princess-” his voice was so much softer, as if it came from a different conversation, a different point in your relationship, when you still dreamed of being his queen.
“Don’t call me that, you don’t get to call me that anymore” you tried to stand tall, be firm as you felt your world melting around.
“But-that's what you are to me, you’re my princess” he stuttered, feeling lost and confused, how had it reached this point, how had it gotten this far.
“You told me I was to be you queen, sir” you were slipping back into old formalities, his name no longer welcome on your tongue “Then you turned around and announced you were to marry another and you expect me to sit around and watch?”
“No, I was just the chambermaid you taunted with a title” you spat, a feigned venom in your voice, trying to convince yourself that you were as mad as you wanted to be, that you were furious and not devastated
“Was?”
“Y/n” you ignored his pitiful plea of your name that passed his thin lips as you untied your apron from around your waist, draping the stained fabric over your arm as you started making your way to the door, your actions halted when a silk covered arm wrapped around your waist. You turned back to him, tears staining your cheeks, and you wished you could disappear, you wish you had never fallen for the boy prince, the one who made promises you knew he couldn’t keep but you wanted to think that it would work. You loathed the hopeless romantic that lived in you, thinking that maybe it could have worked out.
“What are you doing?” his orbs desperately searching yours, tears blooming in his eyes as he saw the resolute look on your face, he felt like he was slipping and he didn’t know what to do.
“I forfeit my position at the castle” you spat, tugging your arm from his hold.
“Y/n, you-you can’t do that, you’ll go back to the streets and I’d never see you again” he felt a pang of guilt that the thing that scared him most was the latter point. Never laying eyes on you again was the last thing he wanted, he wanted to wake up to you every morning, to the way you always brushed his soft curls from his forehead to draw him from his sleep, or how you kiss the corners of his mouth to melt away his frown when his title weighed heavy on his shoulders.
“Maybe that's what I want” your words were harsher than anything he had ever heard you say, making him take a step back.
“I thought what you wanted was to be with me” his voice was shattering along with his heart, glass shards shredding his insides as he felt himself unravel under your gaze, one that he was so used to being filled with adoration, but now your eyes traced needles across his face as you examined his pained expression.
“I did, but you showed that you didn’t want to be with me, Tom, you threw that away, you broke us so don’t blame me for leaving because that is on you, you promised yourself to another”
“You don’t have to leave, Kings often have women other than their queens” he cringed at his own words as he saw them ignite something in you.
“I will not be your concubine, how dare you suggest that!” you practically yelled, your voice hovering below a shout, not wanting to draw any guards to the chambers.
“You don’t have to be my chambermaid anymore, but please you don’t have to leave”
“I do, Tom, I do have to leave because every time I look at you I see a man with my crumbled heart at his feet” Tears freely falling from your eyes now “Remember how you said you would give me the world?” he nodded solemnly “But I didn’t care about the world, it could have burned for all I cared, because nothing compared to how you made me feel, but you couldn’t even manage to give me that” a sob broke through your lips “You promised me the world and left me with a broken heart, I cannot look on you any longer because every time I do I see the man I love and I am pretty sure I will always love”
“You haven’t lost me, not yet, I’m still here, I love you Y/N”
“Well sometimes love isn’t enough, and in this case it isn’t” your voice was sharp, a vice wrapping around the shattered remains of his heart, he opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it quickly, feeling like blood was about to drip from his mouth as his insides churned. For all he knew he was dying. “I cannot stay, after everything I love you, Tom, this was it for me” and with that you slipped through the opening between the two large ornate wooden doors and hurried down the hall. Tom muttered curses under his breath, scrubbing his eyes against the detailed embroidery of his cuff, stepping out into the large stone hallway, watching as your back disappeared around a corner he called.
“This was it for me as well” hoping his words would draw you back to him, real you in from the invisible string that he thought he had wrapped around your heart, but you didn’t turn around, you didn’t come back to him, leaving the future king to wallow in the loss of the only person he would consider his queen.
request for prince Tom Holland? Him and the reading secretly making out?
The coldest and darkest part of the castle, you found warmth against Toms lips.
Half past noon, just getting done with your upstair chores and Tom supposed to be out playing a game of golf with his brothers, instead he faked an illness and kissed away at you.
“This is quite inappropriate for a future king, slacking off to kiss girls.” You shook your head in a teasing manner and he only pressed his lips against your neck.
“Sneaking off with his future Queen.” He smirked but you didn’t respond. Knowing that royalty marries royalty and no way around it. One day you would be cleaning the room his wife lives in and you could never imagine that.
So you only imagine what you have in the moment with him. Kissing away at his lips that tasted of strawberries and sweet summer wine. Tugging at the thin fabric and occasionally letting your hands wander down more.
“Shh,” he pressed his whole body against yours. Placing his hands against your lips as he hears the footsteps of nearby Guards. He waits until it is all quiet, the men are completely gone so he can start kissing at you again.
Suddenly the sound of the bells ring high. You and Tom both break off, they’re looking for him. You had stolen the prince so often that you had caused bells to go off and guards to be sent off just to steal a few kisses.
“They are so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes. “Meet me tonight? My bedroom?” He kissed once more and you nodded. Excited to spend the night in his rooms
“What will your excuse be this time?” ‘I got lost’ ‘I needed some fresh air’ ‘I wanted to be alone’ were typical excuses for him.
“How about, I needed some fresh air.” He smiled before kissing you once more and walking back into the lighter part of the kingdom.
You blow him one last kiss before you see him get tangled with some guards. Holding back your laugh you wait long enough until everyone is far away and you act as if you came from a closet. Only waiting to meet his lips again tonight.
Could you please please please do prompts 78,79, and 88 for prince Tom?! I love your writing so much!!! And I would love to read a blurb with those prompts if your willing to write it. THANK YOU!! ☺️
summary: tom likes to make you flustered, but you’re just too smart for him.
prince!tom x reader
w/c 506
“Stop being dirty,” you whined, wanting to roll your eyes at the childish ways of the prince. He grinned widely, reaching over to twirl a piece of your hair between his fingers, your heart beating slightly faster as he did so.
“I like seeing you all flustered,” he reasoned, letting your hair fall from his grip as he sat back, slouched, in his seat. You were very quickly realising that spending an afternoon with the prince may not be as fun as was originally promised, the man able to get on your every last nerve and pull at every single one of your heart strings at the same time.
You huffed, finally putting down the book you were reading. That earned a wide smile from Tom, the man happy he’d finally gotten through to you. You turned to him with an unimpressed look, almost glare.
“You’re unbearable.” He chuckled, quite proud of the reaction he’d managed to pull from you. He was very much going to enjoy spending the rest of his life doing this if your parents went through with this deal, evidently arranging your marriage.
“Just admit you’re in love with me,” he teased, throwing a wink in your direction. You nervously played with your fingers, trying to come back with any kind of witty comeback that would be on par with his own. You really wished you could have come up with something better than what actually left your mouth before you had a chance to stop it. “You wish.”
He hummed, nodding his head as he leaned back in his chair. “That I do, sweetheart.”
You pursed your lips, cursing him as he stared you down with that same teasing smirk that managed to boil your blood.
He changed the subject quickly, bringing up your book instead of trying to get you all flustered. He lifted it up so he was able to read the title, his eyebrows furrowing slightly at the unfamiliar story name.
“What is it about?” he asked, eyes settled on your face intently. He listened to you talk so smartly, barely even understanding the words that were coming out of your mouth. Obviously you noticed his confusion, deciding to take advantage of that and throw in some untrue things that would throw him off the plot and cause his confusion to grow.
He caught on quickly, his face twisting into one that was far from impressed with you.
“Stop using your intelligence against me,” he whined, finding it difficult to even keep up with what you were saying, plus whether it was true or not. You giggled to yourself, refusing to even spare him a glance.
“You know, if you actually did read a book sometime rather than flirting with me you’d probably be just as intelligent.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I could never be as smart as you,” he said, clearly flirting once again. You rolled your eyes, only making the grin on his face appear again.
“Well, I guess this marriage will work perfectly then.”
summary: a life you never wanted with a man you loathe. life in the royal court has always been sour, but when you’re forced into a loveless marriage with the person you despise the most, you realize what little control you truly have
warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much
summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well.
a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.
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━━★✼☆｡
y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.
"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.
"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.
"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.
"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride."
"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.
As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.
She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.
But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.
━━★✼☆｡
Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.
"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."
"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.
"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."
Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.
"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable.
"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.
She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.
"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.
"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"
Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.
He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.
His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.
"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.
"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"
"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."
"We?" Tom pushed.
"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.
"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.
His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."
Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.
"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."
"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.
"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"
━━★✼☆｡
The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.
She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.
"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.
"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.
y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.
"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.
She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.
y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.
"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.
"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.
While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.
The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.
Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.
"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.
Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.
y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.
The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.
“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.
She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.
The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.
His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.
Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.
As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.
Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.
━━★✼☆｡
The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.
That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.
Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.
“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.
“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.
“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.
“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.
“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.
“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”
Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”
“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.
“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.
He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.
“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.
Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.
The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”
y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.
y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.
It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.
Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.
He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.
y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.
Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.
It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.
“Where are you going?”
He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.
“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.
y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”
“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.
“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”
He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.
“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.
“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”
It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”
Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.
y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.
“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.
“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.
“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”
The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.
“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.
“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”
“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.
“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.
“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”
His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.
“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.
“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.
Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.
Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.
In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.
He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.
y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.
“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.
“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.
y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.
Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.
“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.
“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.
“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything.
“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.
He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.
God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.
“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.
y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.
“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.
It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.
“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”
The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.
━━★✼☆｡
a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡
