for blurb night 🥲 extra sappy if you listen to slipping through my finger by abba or never grow up by taylor swift
“I just don’t think he needs—”
“Y/N,” Tom chastised sweetly. “He’s only going to preschool, it’s alright.”
The three of you were in the car on the way to August’s school. He had on cuffed blue jeans and a white wool sweater. His hair was all messy, most likely his doing after you’d tried to comb it down.
“Y/N, he knows that! Don’t you, bud?” Tom chuckled, looking into the rearview mirror and seeing him smile bashfully. “You’ll be fine, don’t even worry ‘bout it. Mum knows it too.”
For the remainder of the car ride, you all listened to music and Tom held your hand lovingly. August babbled about kicking the football around with dad and his snack you’d packed for him. When you pulled into the lot, you felt the tears starting to well up as you hopped out and scooped him out of his carseat. Tom grabbed his backpack, and told you to let him walk in by himself.
“Darling, he’s nearly five,” Tom told you. “Let the champ walk in on the first day.”
“Yeah, mum. I’m five!” August smiled up at you.
“Not five yet,” you said with a smirk. “You’re still my little four year old boy.”
The walk inside was less emotional than the car ride, seeing August walk proudly with his Paw Patrol backpack and Spider-Man lunchbox. Once you got to his classroom you all stood outside of the door and his teacher came out to greet you.
She was a tall, slender woman. Her dress had strawberries on it and she wore white stockings. August had met her on parent-teacher night, but she still got on his level and introduced herself again to him.
“Hi, August. I’m Miss Mabel!” She said with the biggest smile. “I am so excited to have you in my class this year.”
She shook both of your hands and started to talk about what their day would consist of, August antsy, waiting to be released into the room of fun colors and toys. He tugged on your hand, but you kept him out and listened to what the young woman had to say.
“August’s privacy is our utmost concern, we will be completely aware of any photographs taken of him inside school or outside on the playground. We know your circumstances are different, and I just want to personally affirm to you that I am going to do my absolute best as his teacher.”
“We really appreciate that—”
“Can I go in now?” August cut Tom off, making everyone laugh.
Miss Mabel gave him a nod of yes, making you let out of a shaky breath and hug him tightly. He kissed your cheek in anticipation, Tom rubbing your shoulder in support. You didn’t know, but he himself had some tears brimming at his waterline watching the embrace.
“Mummy loves you, alright?” You sniffled into his hair. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Tom hugged his son and Miss Mabel brought him inside and bid you both farewell for now. You stood watching him go in for a few moments, along with some other parents watching their kids.
August didn’t look back.
Seeing as he is almost five.
Tom put his arm around you and you both began to walk back to the car when you heard a loud voice coming from the classroom.
Summary: It's your birthday, so you should be able to do whatever you want, right? Nope. Not when you're royal. Ever since you were little, there was never enough 'a princess must never...' rules coming from your mother's mouth. However a certain Prince convinces you to live your life a little more dangerously...
Themes: fluff n smut (18+)
w/c: 4k
Includes: outdoor sex (unseen, unheard), unprotected sex, slight choking
MASTERLIST
Tonight you sit, more anxious than usual, in the position that's moulded your posture ever since you were a little girl. Your mother always told you that a princess must never slouch. Well, there was never enough 'a princess must never...' rules coming from your mother's mouth, but that one in particular was exercised daily.
And today is no exception.
The 90° regal chair has your spine crumbling with discomfort, but yet you comply with the expected attribute influenced by your mother's incessant lessons on being royal. Surrounded by many alike you, you dine in celebration of your 25th birthday. The champagne tastes bitter, the food barely edible for its decadence and barely satisfying for its gourmet portions; the meals being the only thing in this room that are less interesting than those who serve it.
You discreetly glance around the room, struggling to pair faces with names and names with faces and you realise there's a substantial gap between knowing someone and knowing of someone. You peer to your sister, dressed in her finely detailed gown, sitting elegantly around her hips and shoulders flattering her almost-perfect body. You know everything there is to her especially being 3 years older, familiarity couldn't come closer to you with anyone else. Again you peer around the room, spotting the old gentlemen talking to your uncle with a sincere, solemn look to his ageing eyes. Who is that? Why is he invited? What relation does he have to your family? Should you know him? Have you met him before? These are the questions that burn your mind and you ask yourself if all guests really are as important as your mother entails. Because God forbid you invite your own guests to your own birthday celebrations.
Drowning the nerves with the glass of champagne that sits neatly in the curve of your hand, you plaster on a smile, clear your throat and make your announcement.
"Good evening everyone. I would like to express my gratitude to everyone who came today in celebration of my 25th birthday. From family members to office secretaries, and from dukes and duchesses to school friends, I cannot personally thank you all enough for the wonderful gifts I have received. Now, if you would like to join me in the grand hall for refreshments and entertainment, that would be absolutely wonderful.”
If only you could cut to the chase sooner. But, as royalty, everything you say must be formal to some respect. Your mother always tells you that whatever you say must show a degree of intelligence, otherwise you'll be mistaken for someone who is uneducated, immature, inexperienced: traits that won't be tolerated at this level of authority. Whether anyone has ever thought of you like that, you don't know. But you always do what you are told despite what you believe.
It's just all part of being royal, isn't it? Your life has been decided for you since you were able to take your first breath, and it will remain that way until you take your last.
Just as you had advised, the crowd of people slowly disperse into the grand hall as waiters and maids begin to clear the table, the murmuration of voices overlapped by the clinking of glassware and cutlery. You sheepishly follow behind, lagging behind the rest to gain some privacy in the dining hall to gather your thoughts before mingling with the guests, familiar or not.
Well, at least you thought you had some privacy.
"It must be hard," a gentleman's voice appears from beside you. You whip around to see a man of around your age sauntering closer towards you. His navy blue uniform hugs him in all the right places, multiple badges glistening and polished to a sheen on the recognisable Order of the Garter blue sash. He's royal alright, a duke or perhaps, if your luck strikes fortunate tonight, a prince. It’s a conclusion evident enough not because of the obvious uniform, but by the way he composes his elegance and stands poised with such stature. Suddenly the air is sucked from your breath as he demands your attention, reigning in the existing aura and suffocating it with his own presence until his prestige is in full command of this room and everything in it. The brown eyes are familiar, but memory of his name fails you which is a shame. Surely with a man as strikingly charming as the one standing before you, his name would come easily to your lips.
"What is?”
"Being polite to complete strangers you'll probably never meet again and who are only involved with your family because they're desperately hanging on to the idea that somehow your power just might become theirs," he bluntly remarks, plastering a proud grin on his lips. A sly snigger escapes you, blown away by his blatancy which, you admit, speaks some truth.
"You know that because…?"
"I'm not deluded by manners. It's clear to see, but you just don't observe," he asserts.
"And who do these wise words belong to?" You take two timid steps forward towards him, locking him under your glare with a slight smile on your face. You can't help but swing your hips playfully as you stride towards him, branching out and putting aside the typical behaviour of royalty since he’s already done so through his words.
He fixes his posture, arms and legs locked in and upright, as if mocking his seniors.
“Thomas Stanley Holland, Prince of England, your majesty." He takes ahold of your hand bringing it to his lips and place a gentle kiss on your skin.
Yet again, another example of a face you failed to match to name.
"Oh a Prince, how delightful!" You mock, resembling your grandmother with her wavering voice ringing through your ear.
"Now, your royal highness, would you care to take a stroll with me through the garden, which I might say, has the most impressive botanical display I have ever seen.”
You buffer slightly and the comical impressions wear off, debating whether to take up his offer. You turn your head back to the grand hall where everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, oblivious to your absence. Should you? You are the guest of honour, wouldn't people notice? Your mother won't be too happy either…
"Look at them, princess. They're too wrapped up in their own little lives to notice that you're not there." His voice hums softly your ear, hands resting gently on the curves of your shoulders, fingers tracing over the silk fabric as if to coax you into his offer. Your mind latches onto the cold sting of the insignia ring wrapped around his pinky finger before being lost in the ghost of chills that follow his breath, skimming along the curve of your clavicle. “It’s your birthday party for God sake. Leave them, they're not worth your time. Come with me, I want to show you something that is worth your time." You turn to face him. He reads the doubt on your face like it is written in words. You don't think it's possible for you to sink any further into the gentle tones of his voice, but yet, he fails to disappoint. "I promise you they won't notice,” he whispers and seals his promise with a wink. He's ever so persuasive. So much so that you link your arms with his and wander down the hall to the back garden, giggling as you share one last glance to the crowded room behind, successfully leaving without witness.
It's late and the gardeners have switched on the fairy lights decorating the trees that line the stone pathway leading you directly into the botanical greenhouse. The flowers are in full bloom and there's a majestic array of colours bouncing around every corner of the room. From the pink vibrancy of the peonies to the midnight blues of the hydrangeas; every shade lures you towards them, fingers twitching to steal one for yourself. There's a twinkle in the air with the occasional firefly hovering above the flowers, setting the atmosphere perfectly. Although it’s a beautiful sight that is only deserving of your eyes, you can’t help but close them to soak in the calm and natural aura of the room as your ears slip into the low hum of the electric buzzers hidden far in the corners and the delicate trickle of the small waterfall.
Admittedly, it takes your breath away. Mother never allowed you out here this late, 'a princess must be in bed at a reasonable hour to preserve her youth' so she says. You always hated that rule. Especially as a child where your curiosity knew no limits; you wanted to explore everything but you were never allowed. You still aren’t, even as an adult that curiosity still roars as furiously as ever, so being here at this time of night is like a whole new world to you.
"Wow," you whisper, eyes fluttering open once more to take in the botanical magic around you. “It's...beautiful."
"It is, isn't it? Spotted it while I was out having a walk through the garden earlier.”
"I've never seen it like this before, mother never let me out after dark," you cowardly mumble, sweeping your fingertips across the petal of a rose. Imagine: a 25 year old still living under the authority of her mother. He gives you a scowling look.
“You’ve never…? But…you live here.”
You shrug your shoulders, eyes hidden with shame.
“You need to stop letting your mother take control of you. You're a mature woman, there is no doubt you are competent enough to make your own decisions! You're a princess not a pet!”
"And she's the Queen! It just doesn't work like that. I can't disobey her, she'll...she'll disown me."
You can't disregard the look of pity evident in his chocolate brown eyes, nor the soft smile playing on his lips. He closes the distance between you just an inch at a time.
"Princess," he sighs, tongue rolling in the golden honey of his accent. “Life goes too quickly. Especially at our age. I understand perfectly-“
"Do you, though? You're a boy, I bet your mother didn't have any reins on you," you snap, admittedly rather unladylike but your mother isn't here to scorn you.
“No, that may be true enough but I'll tell you what she told me.”
Your heart rate picks up the pace that it's almost bursting through your chest. He's almost a hair's breadth away and you listen very intently to the words being whispered in your ear, ever so gently.
"If you don't challenge it, then it won't change you." He draws back and once again his eyes meet yours purely to see your reaction. A minute passes and nothing is said. Tom’s philosophy, or more rather his mother's, imprints a rebellious thought in your mind. Defying your mother was always hypothetical because you feared of the consequences that you had yet to challenge. You've always been the ideal, obedient daughter your mother always wanted, but what about what you want? If you are to eventually rule this kingdom, then what sort of Queen would cower and fall so easily beneath the authority of others? What Queen leads a kingdom if she cannot even lead her own life?
There's a knowing smile playing on his lips as he observes your epiphany. He brings up his hand towards your face, fingers lightly skimming against your forehead like you were made of glass as he neatly tucks away a stray strand of hair. Every gesture and every word leaves you swooning over the little mannerisms that he owns. It's the way he treats you like you are the most fragile and delicate thing, but yet knows that you are far from it; knows that there’s a spark inside you waiting to be ignited where your true power manifests.
"Happy birthday, princess.”
Just as that sweet, little sobriquet rolls effortlessly off his tongue, his head veers down and blesses your cheek with a kiss so soft, you almost don't feel it. Ironically, the effects are quite the opposite. Now that the distance between you and the Prince is almost close to nothing, a sudden, intense urge pushes you to take advantage of the moment and of his words. It’s almost tantalising how there’s only just a slither of air separating you and feel nothing more than the insatiable desire to make a move. That, and the urge to go against everything your mother has ever taught you.
'The gentleman always makes the first move, it is not ladylike to throw yourself onto them' you hear the echo of your mother's obnoxious tones swimming through your mind.
Oh yeah?
"You mentioned that I should start making my own decisions…"
"Princess?" His eyebrow perks up as does the smirk on your lips.
"How's this for a decision?”
Without even thinking, you instinctively crash your lips onto his. A surge of adrenaline courses through your veins knowing that you're deliberately going behind your mother's back, and completely obliterating everything you know about royal etiquette. The Prince seems more than willing to share this new found maturity with you, mirroring your devotion and giving even more, sinking his lips further into yours that you have to take two timid steps back.
It's sweet, giving you that first taste of independence but it doesn’t last long and you yearn for more. He eases just centimetres away from you and you look up to find his lips still parted and his eyes still closed, taking a moment to himself to savour those precious moments. In your peripheral, you see his tongue run across his bottom lip, but your eyes are glued to the bobble of his Adam’s apple as he swallows and there’s something about the natural instinct that strangely alluring, seductive. A quality you very rarely find in someone whether that be your naivety or the dullness of any other man you have ever come across.
"That's...more like it.” The Prince’s eyes open once again, finding you with rosy cheeks and a fluttering heart beat pounding against your ribcage. Itching, his hands slither around the tight corset at your waist and grips the fastenings at the back. There’s a spark of mischief evident in his eyes. “Any other decisions waiting to be made?” He pulls you closer towards him.
Tom radiates a particular suggestive tone to his words that once heard instantly attracts the newly-born rebel inside you. It drowns out the warnings of your mother until they slip into oblivion, and just like that, you take control. You bite your lip as your hands sweep away the fine lint gracing his chest.
“There might be a few,” you whisper.
“Then go ahead,” he whispers back, eyes darkening with hunger. “There’s nothing to stop you, princess.”
Slowly, tentatively, your hands slide down to find his adorning your waist. Keen eyes watch for his reaction when you guide his hand to your throat and he’s completely captivated by you. You can’t help but let your eyes flutter close when you start to feel his fingers coiling around your neck, deliberate but calculated, not too hard but not too gentle. He hears the quick gasp when the cold insignia ring presses against your skin. Gold, pressed with his family crest, its symbolism of power recreates itself in Tom as he lets go of his inhibitions, closing his fist around your neck.
“Thomas…” A soft whimper escapes your lips and he drinks it in. His lips lie just millimetres out of touch from your own, teasing with the soft sweep of his breath. You need his kiss again. Once is definitely not enough. You’ve explored too much, your curiosity isn’t nearly satisfied and you fear it might never let up knowing what it’s already gotten a taste of.
“What do you want, hm? Tell me. What has the birthday girl wished for?”
“I want…” you take a breath, “I want you to use me.”
“Oh, Your Royal Highness, I like this side of you.” A sinful smirk stretches wide across his lips before he crashes them into yours. You mewl as he melts his lips into yours, his tongue breaching into your mouth, exploring and mingling with your own. All the while his hand coils tighter and tighter. You yelp when your hips bang against the table laden with smaller plant pots, shaking like an earthquake erupts beneath them.
The Prince snakes his way across your cheek, along the line of your jaw and down the column of your neck, replacing his hand with his lips as they kiss your pulse with each beat. You are inevitably stuck with the press of Tom’s body against yours, shaking under his touch as it roams all over you, and a certain heat rises at your core.
“Mmm,” he hums. “You smell amazing, princess. I should keep you all to myself.” He seals his pledge with the sharp pinch of his teeth, sucking a blemish into your skin. Your eyes whip open when you realise that he’s branding you, liberating you from your mother’s clutches and claiming you as his own. Although you know you should be worried about the very visible mark that will be left on your neck, and what insults it’ll pay your mother and her work to make you perfect, but you can’t help lose yourself to his seduction. It’s all so appetising, so alluring, it’s delicious.
He pulls away ever so slowly, noses briefly clashing for a fleeting moment while he peers down to you, lips swollen and glistening. His hands, ever curious, circle around your waist and feel the curve of your hips as they suffocate under the tight corset. Somehow, he grips tighter and whips you around, holding you just as close as before, so much so that his breath funnels against your ear.
You stare at your reflection of the glass, nothing but darkness looming behind it. Prince Thomas catches your gaze with his, darkening by the second and it steals a gasp from you. You are simply pooling at the sight.
“How naughty are you feeling, princess?” He whispers in cool tones.
“Very.”
“Good.” Hands catch themselves on the table in front of you as Prince Tom lifts the hem of your dress until it rests around your hips, throwing you forward. The Prince behind you can't resist to feel the shape of your legs as his fingers drag closely behind, and the closer he gets to your cunt, the more visible the chills become. You release a soft mewl when his thumb trickles down the centre of your underwear, pressing into the wetness and dancing it around in circles. You lean into it, evoking an amused chuckle to swarm your ears while he watches you fall so easily for him. He knew you would.
Standing there, you can’t ignore how good it feels having someone pay you so much attention, listening to your needs instead of reprimanding you for debauchery. The Prince plays you like his own, a puppet and her puppeteer.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally hooks the thin material of your underwear and peels it away from your cunt, slowly, leisurely, adoring the way the wet material grips onto you for just a second longer.
“Fuck.” The expletive sounds like a holy berceuse in his voice. “So wet for me.” He’s almost panting at how tight you look, and he grips your hips like a vice because he’s not going to let you run away now. Not a chance.
Instinctively, he ruts into you and releases just the hint of a groan, suppressing it until he can fully feel inside of you.
The thrill of adrenaline runs ragged in your veins, eagerly waiting for what you know is coming. However, when you feel his hand coil around your wrist, pulling it blindly behind you, you feel a certain trepidation. Yet, you find it completely justified when he coils the palm of your hand around his cock and shit, he’s huge. A bead of cum seeps from his tip and your hand catches it, and with his slow thrusts, it spreads along his length. He’s teasing, you realise. Your cunt waits impatiently just inches away from him, his tip poking and prodding sparingly, but yet he thrusts into your hand instead.
“Stop the teasing,” you beg. Your head cranes over your shoulder to catch a glance, but he snakes his hand around the back of your neck.
“Patience, your highness. I’m going to take my time to fuck you.”
Your hand slips, and his cock buries deep inside of you. A sharp inhale pierces your lungs where a low growl leaves his. For a moment, he stays still to feel the minute clenches of your walls as they try to acclimate to his size. Overwhelmed with pleasure, his fingers grip around the curve of your neck and your hip, holding you down while he pushes himself to reach your limits. You're on the verge of tears and very quickly losing control over the scream that’s trapped in your throat, but you have to hold it in: letting it out would alert everyone in the palace.
He shifts and you squeal. The Prince starts to rut his hips back and forth, grinding himself against you in the filthiest of ways, uninhibited and drunk of the tight squeeze of your cunt.
“God. Fuck. You feel amazing. You feel like fucking royalty.”
His virile thrusts are torturous, meticulously slow in their movements as he savours every twitch of your cunt, every lewd noise, every moment his hips grind against yours. He keeps you hanging on the edge for what feels like hours, internally pleading for more.
Things thankfully change pace when your clit suffers under his fingers and his cock pumps harder and harder into you. The table beneath you is shaking and threateningly close to breaking, but you lack the attention to care. Everything on your mind evolves around Prince Tom and the way he’s making you feel, the way he expertly arouses a very particular feeling to pull taut in your stomach. You cry out for release and Tom responds with something similar, guiding you over the threshold until suddenly, you’re cumming.
It washes over you hard and fast. With your head sunken low against the table, your body falls victim to its instincts, squeezing around Tom as he remains deep inside you to feel what he can from the repercussions of your orgasm. It feels dirty and obscenely vulgar, but yet you’ve never felt so unrestrained, finally living the liberation of the many etiquette rules your mother forced upon you.
God, what your mother would think of you now…
“Oh my God,” you breathe. “I can’t…I can’t believe we just done that…”
Prince Tom heaves a mirthful chuckle, gently easing away from you and coaxing you into his care with the warmth of his hands. He sweeps them across the expanse of your hips and thighs, soothing them, forcing them to unwind from the strain. He graciously fixes you up while you recover, pulling you up into his embrace when you eventually do.
“I mean, we’re outside! Anyone could’ve walked out here and seen us! We could’ve been caught! My mother…she would absolutely kill me. She would kill you! Thomas-“
Tom silences you with his lips, a small smile shaping his kiss while he sinks into you. You audibly hum, sighing into his lips. When he pulls away, you seem to be more level-headed.
“Sorry,” you murmur. “Killed the mood, didn’t I?” You’re all-too-aware of the bashful, coy smirk that dons your lips when you face him again. He can’t suppress the compulsion to gently pinch your chin, and let his thumb graze over your bottom lip, trapped in between your teeth and visibly smiles at your diffidence, eyes twinkling with admiration.
Is that your heart fluttering?
“Not at all, princess. That’s just what happens when you live a little.” With the lightest of touches, he traces around the shape of the blemish he left on your neck…that you completely forgot about. Stunned, you grip his hand but his smile just stretches wider.
“I don’t think I’ll be living much longer if my mother sees this.”
Going to try and do the best I can with catching up on the days I missed. In my fanfic, Tom Vs. The Underworld, he explores many parts of the Underworld he hasn’t been able to see and even makes new demon friends. The demon city, Chernabog City, lies in the Prickly Plains of the Underworld and is very crowded from its people to its buildings stacking over each other.
Ship: Fairytale!Tom Holland x Male reader (William)
Word count: 3448
A/N: I haven’t written anything in a long time, so sorry for this being shitty. Also just so you know english isn’t my first language. Anyway hope you like it. It’s written in a fairytale world
Once Upon a time there was a kingdom. The kingdom was known for its people who were more sorrowful than any other. They had experience pain and sorrow so deeply it was buried through generations. There was a curse upon the Kingdom, worse than any dragon or wyvern. Grieve was set to befall on every family, all having to bear the burden of knowing; that one day their sons would die on the battlefield of blood. The Kingdom had been at war with a neighboring Kingdom for centuries, but the neighbors were far more cruel and evil than any witch or beast. To serve in the army was the greatest honor that could ever be bestowed on a person. Family suffered losses every day, everyone had lost someone to the war. When someone went to serve, you knew that you would never see them again.
William Jackson had only ever seen the Kingdom from afar. He lived a day outside the castle's walls. When he was little, he dreamed of getting the medal of honor. His dad had served the Kingdom in the war and lost his life in the process. As soon as William turned 18, he was ready to serve the royal army, but his mother did not want him to. She was scared of losing him, just like she had lost her husband. When Will was little; he looked up to his dad. He was his hero but after he died and everyone in the village called him a coward; Will never saw his father the same way again. His mother would never talk about him, the pain was just too much for her.
He asked his mother for permission to leave. His mother said, “Fighting is stupid, being right here with me and your sisters is important”. The words were not enough to put his dreams to slumber. William was not going to be a failure, like his father. He knew his family would understand, someday, so he left. To make them proud, and to fill the hole in his heart.
The road to the castle was long but he took his horse and gathered supplies in a backpack he could carry around the satchel; and so, he went on. To look for happiness and adventure.
After a while William started getting tired, it was hard having to ride for that long. He had heard many stories about travelers but being one even if it was just for a day, was completely different. A headache grew and pain in his legs followed. The horse was getting tired too, but there was no time to stop. To get to the castle would take a lot of ambition and willpower. His eyes started to drift away, and he could feel his eyelids getting heavy trying to close in on him. He thought to himself, closing your eyes for just a few seconds will be OK, but he soon went into a small slumber. It did not take long for the rest to be over, because the horse came to her rough stop. William screamed out of surprise, and so did an old lady. He had almost hit her with the horse, but he was fast to act. The old lady had fell to the ground, and William immediately jumped off his horse to help an innocent. “Are you OK?” he asked with deep concern. He noticed her weird clothes; she was wearing something that looked like a cloak and her hair was as red as fire. Her nose big and eyes small; her skin was full of wrinkles and scars. “I'm fine, my dear; don't you worry about an old lady like me” her voice scratchy and abrasive. he tried not to look and her with a weird eye, she was just a nice old lady “I'm Zelda, and who are you? Young man” she looked him directly in the eye - she was not scared. “Ehh, I am William. I am truly sorry.” he was not hesitant to answer, but his mother always taught him to be nice and well adjusted. William looked at the ground trying to avoid her green eyes out of shame from his actions, that is when he saw it, a neckless. He picked it up, and written across the silver stood, “Savior's heart”. “Ma'am, I think you dropped this”, as soon as he rose; the old lady was gone. He placed it in his belt holder, not really thinking more about it. He did not have time to ask questions, because of this little run day view, he would not have time for a break later. Right now, the most important thing was getting to the castle.
Coming into the village, William kept his head high trying to avoid any glances from any villager. After the tournament he would be a part of the royal army, and his name would receive glory. Finding his way through the village was not hard, there were signs everywhere showing people where to go. He followed the other travelers as they all seemed to be heading to a big field. The field was full of tents in all kinds of sizes. Before he could get in, he had to assign. There were many tables on the field. People came from all over the kingdom, to participate in the tournament.
He raised down from his horse and delivered it to one of the many caretakers provided by the king service. “Hey, you, do you have a number yet?” a young man sitting at one of the tables asked William, taking him out of his thoughts. William took a while before he spoke “Um, no sir. I have not received a number yet” he did his best to straighten his back. There were strong men in a mile of sight, everyone had big muscles and had trained for this since they were small. His eyes wandered around, almost forgetting the conversation, he was having. “God, get your life in check, mate. If you want to be a knight, you can not just stand there looking like an idiot. Okay?”, with the last word, the young man smashed his hand into Williams chest giving him a with the number, 136. To think that they were already that many competitors, made William stomach turn.
He knew that competitors had to share tents. Williams sleeping mates would be number 53 and 17, as assigned on the tents. He stood outside of the tent, not knowing what to expect. He slid through the fabric and walked in hearing two people talking.
“You know I could beat you in a duel any day of the week”, one said to the other mockingly. “Yeah, right, I have always been a better swordsman than you, and you know it”, he commented back. They stopped their conversation as William stands came to a hold. “Hello, I am William Jackson and I am excited to share this journey with the both of you”, William did not notice the confused expression across the two young mens faces as he talked. “Mate, relax, is not like you will be here tomorrow”, the raven-haired boy said in a bitter tone. “Hey James, do not scare him. Do not think about him, he is just a prick”, the young man slammed his hand over the raven-haired boys head.
The blonde man stood up and walked across the tent making his way to William. “I am Thomas”, he said taking his hand out of his pocket for William to greet. “William”, his voice was shaking as they connected their hands, he felled a cold chill run down his spine. He brushed the feeling off, thinking it was just intimidation. Thomas was a Noble man; you could see it on his clothes. He was wearing assessments of a higher caliber. Metals at William had never seen before. He had never seen anyone look as ravishing and elegant. His own appearance now seemed humiliating. “You already said that, mate”, his voice was soft and sympathetic, William felt embarrassed. William looked down trying to avoid eye contact. He made his way over to what was clearly the spare bed.
Conversation was shared about the upcoming tournament, William did not like James that much. He seemed entitled and immature, talking about the girls that would die to marry him after he had won. William would admit James was handsome, but not like Thomas. Thomas had golden curly locks, and eyes as brown as chocolate, his scent was as delightful as roses. He had brood shoulders and a gentle smile. No one in Williams village looked like that. He knew that even though they could act like friends today, tomorrow would be totally different, they would turn on him.
The competition was hard, and there were legends about the blood spilled on that field, but honor came with a great price and William was ready to pay it. He hated the thought of hurting an innocent. The way James talked, made him sick. He could not think that people enjoyed others in pain. It was clear that Thomas did not agree with James values.
As conversation dialed down in the tent, Will found himself thinking about his mom. His mom was not a woman of honor. To her safety was the most important thing – or at least that was what Will thought. She would be proud and admit her wrongs when he came home with a medal. He was going to be everything his dad could not; a real soldier and hero.
He went outside to clear his head all the thinking was giving him a headache so hard it burned. Men were gathered around bonfires laughing and drinking. Will needed to find a quiet place. Today had been too much for him to handle. When he woke up this morning, he could only imagine what being here was actually like. His dad used to talk about the castle like it was a magical land, where everything was possible. As much as he hated his dad, he was right about that.
After walking for a couple of minutes he finally came to an opening, it was a training station. There was a sign saying, “Closed till tomorrow”. William knew then many came a week before the tournament; just to train. He took up his sword from his belt and stood in position ready to fight. Everything he had ever learned about swordsmanship came from his dad. For a man who died in battle, he had some great skills. He started to practice. He tried all the different moves he could remember. His blood started to rise as well as his heartbeat. He was angry, at James, his dad, his mother, but most of all himself. One hit after another in the air and anger filled his bones. He had to succeed. Sweat dripping down from his forehead, as his muscles started getting sore. He did not notice the time passing, but at some point, he cracked and threw the sword directly into a tree. So, Will went to pull it out, but half of the sword was stuck. He could hear a group of guards coming; getting in trouble was the last thing he wanted. No one was allowed to be there after hours, so he ran. He had to give up on the sword anyway, it was scum. He did not talk when he came into the tent, he just laid down on this bed and closed his eyes trying to drift away.
- “I hate you. You are so much like your father. You are a real disappointment to this family. And I do not ever want to see you step your foot inside my house again.”.
- “You are at least just as bad as me. I saw you try to practice but you will never be a great warrior with those little girl moves.”.
The next day came as fast as the other ended, and with the sun they all rose. Thomas kept looking at Will, he felt the pair of eyes on him. For Will this was only going to be the day, where his life really started. Will had not brought any food with him. James on the other hand had a whole crew of people bring him food, he did not even want. Thomas chose to share his plate with Will. “Why are you doing this?” Will asked. “Because it is the right thing to do. Come on, I can not let my teammate starve” he smiled back. Thomas handed him a piece of bread; their fingers glanced each other briefly. They all ate in silence, Will and Thomas sitting on one bed and James on his own.
Nightmares were normal for William, being a disappointment was normal for William. That is why bringing honor to his family meant so much to him. He had to be worth something, he could not just be a good for nothing man. His dad died a coward, and that was his biggest fear, being a coward.
Soon they all left the comfort of the tent and went out to fight for honor. As James took out all his weapons, William started to feel lost. Without a weapon he could not compete, no weapon no honor. James left, and Thomas was just about to follow but stopped when he saw the look on Williams face. “You know if you need anything you can just ask” as soft as Thomas voice was, it did not help with Will lose his distress. “Thanks, but I am fine”. Thomas just nodded and proceeded walking out. There was something off about Thomas, but William could not put the finger on it. Brushing the feeling off he rose from his seat.
William had spent 20 minutes getting ready, trying to get all his armor and gear on by himself. There was not long until his third match of the day. When he had showed up to his first battle a random man came and handed him a sword. The sword looked brand new and expensive, but William did not have time to question it. He won easily, gaining back some of the confidence, he had lost overnight. After the third match, there would be a break. So, the rich could gossip and feast. The king was supposed to give an inspiring speech, and everyone had to listen.
William had not hurt anyone yet, and he was not planning to. People came to serve not to die. William was not a killer, he just wanted to help stop the war. He was a fighter. William knew that he would leave a changed person.
Then a man came into the tent he was standing in. Before turning around William thought it was just one of the helpers, but it was not. There standing before him, was Thomas. Even though that just seen each other this morning. He looked a lot different with all his armor, he had a small cut on the higher cheekbone. “Hey” he said. “Ehh, hi”, what was he doing here William thought. “I just wanted to make sure you got the sword”, so he was the one that sent it. “Yeah thanks, how did you know I needed a sword?”, the question came out sounding more defensive than intended. “I saw you last night at the training station. You were quite impressive if I might say so myself.”, he saw me. William grew embarrassed, no one had ever called him impressive. Not even his sisters, who was his biggest fans. “I have not seen you fight but I can only imagine the kind of swordsmanship someone like you would carry.” William walked a step closer to Thomas. “Someone like me?” Thomas took a step as well. “I mean you are already perfect”. “I am not, at least my dad do not think I am. To him I am a disgrace to our family” he had a sad tone over his voice. “My dad was awful too. “If that helps”. Try not to sound so inconsiderate you idiot, Will thought after he spoke. “Was?”, the question hit hard. “He died in the war”, talking about it made Will feel vulnerable. “I am so sorry for your loss”, Thomas said sincerely. “It is OK, like I said; he was awful.”, just thinking about his dad, made his skin crawl. “Still a loss is a loss”, spoken like someone who had felt it. “My big brother died too” he talked again after a small pause. With all the talking William had not noticed just how close they were. Only a couple of inches from each other. William could see Thomas eyes starting to water, he was trying not to cry. “Sometimes I miss him, even though I do not want to” Will said trying to break the silence. Thomas now letting a small huff out moved closer to Will. William did not know what to think, as Thomas wrapped his arms around his torso. First in shock, he did not do anything, but soon he reciprocated the hug. It was nice being so close to someone, to feel safe. Will started to feel his own eyes watering. they both snuff their noses at the same time and a chuckled escaped from both of their lips. They pulled out slowly from the hug, so they were standing face to face. William felt something he had never felt before. He felt happy in this moment.
“Prince Tom, your father needs to see you right now!”, a man interrupted their conversation. Prince, who is a prince. Wait he said Tom - as in Thomas? William almost lost his mind; Thomas was the prince? “Good luck out there. Will I see you later?” Thomas asked calmly, he sounded like he thought William already knew. “Yes”, Williams thoughts were at war. Thomas smiled and left.
Even though William had just won his fight, all he could think about was Thomas. The fact that he was the prince. He should have been happy about all his victories, but now he did not know what to feel. Everything seemed different. He enjoyed fighting - but maybe he wanted more from life. He started walking around waiting for the king's speech, Thomas father's speech. A man carrying mail, went around handing it out. “Are you William Jackson?”, the man asked. “Yes, I am.”, who would have sent me a letter. “Take this” he handed him a beige envelope. He could see his mom handwriting cross the paper. He turned the envelope around and used his fingernails to open the letter. The letter read:
My dear William.
Hope you get this soon. I miss you and I am sorry. I should have been a better mother, but everything got so hard after your dad died. I know that I do not talk about him a lot, but I really miss him. I know that I should have defended him, when the people in town called him a coward, because he was not. He was good hearted, just like you. He cared more about saving a life, then killing. He never got to tell me what happened, but I talked to one of his friends the day of the funeral. He said that your dad had seen a man crying out for help on the battlefield. He was specifically supposed to stay on duty, but he could not watch a helpless man die. He fought his way towards the man and saved him. When he was not on his post people thought he chickened out and ran. He was brave running onto that battlefield saving a man's life. His friend said that when your dad came back with the man, they took him back to the camp. Your dad got hurt along the way, and with the paramedics being occupied saving the man’s life, your dad died form an unknown wound. People started calling him a coward and have never stopped. His friend tried to stand up for him and tell the truth, but no one believed him. That the reason why I have been so hard on you. I know you and your dad share the same heart and helping people is what you do. You have a savior’s heart. So even though it is hard and losing your dad almost killed me, I will support you.
I love you and I hope to see you soon.
- Mom
He reached into his belt holder and took out the silver neckless, “Savior’s heart”. He knew what he had to do. He knew what to fight for.
Summary: What will happen when a prince decides to sneak out one night and runs into a poor orphan girl trying to get by? What happens when they fall in love? Can the poor girl save the prince from marrying someone he doesn’t want?
omg what about... prince!tom (aka my weakness) 🥺💘 ily carrie!!
awww I love you too!! and I love prince Tom so much 😭😭 I did dark prince Tom a second ago, so here’s light prince Tom to shake things up a bit 😍 hope ya like!! 💖😘
