King!Nai x Royal Advisor!Reader drabble bc I can't shut uup
Rating: 14+
Word Count: 0.8k
Reader is referred to as a girl/woman.
You're not available when you come into the employ of King Nai.
One of those political engagements. You know how it is: parents promised your hand to an older man when you were six, you meet him periodically to "get to know" each other, and your marriage is planned for when you turn sixteen, he thirty-nine.
You do not mention this to the king, except in passing when he tries to make plans for you to become an official royal advisor in the coming years. "As much as I hate your tongue" Nai grimaces, face still boyish with a little teenage fat, "it has its uses in the battle of wills against ambassadors."
You look at him, this young man who has the world at his feet and the ability to say 'no' to anything he does not want. What you wouldn't give for that kind of freedom. "I will be wed," you say, looking away and reminding yourself of this, "and am only expected to help you settle matters in the western part of the kingdom until then." It is the usual for girls your age, after all. It was only your own ambition and insistence that allowed you to become an "honorary" advisor to the small kingdom in the first place. A way for you to get it out of your system before marriage.
Nai only blinks, and hums.
The news comes five days later: your betrothed has met with an accident—some kind of horseplay in racing carriages and falling off before getting trampled. A terrible situation.
Most terrible, you think, as you wonder what your future looks like now at his funeral. Here at fifteen-and-a-half, you were expecting to have your first child within the next two years. Not that you looked forward to it, but it was just...expected. What you've been told all your life to want. You come to the king and explain everything.
"How tragic," he says, then shrugs. "I suppose I could allow you to stay as an advisor now, though."
Your parents hesitate, but still try for another marriage. You are young, in your child-bearing years. There is another who accepts the offer within a month of your birthday. When you tell the king this as a way of notice—to allow him to find another "honorary" advisor—his brow twitches once before he turns away and leaves you in the hall.
The letter from your father comes swiftly in the night. You read it over tea next morning: your new fiance has withdrawn his offer, post-haste. Threats to his name have been made if he weds you. He may have been paid off. You set your cup down with a loud clank. Wheels begin turning. You're smart enough to catch on.
This time, you seek out a husband yourself. Someone younger, perhaps. Just to see if it's an age thing. You find a duke, about twenty-three, who looks at you lecherously when you offer your hand and more. You tell the king. Your future husband is dead within days of announcing your proposal.
So it goes with the next two men and one woman. They either die, get maimed, or are paid off handsomely by an unknown benefactor. And it spreads like wildfire among the elite. No one wants to touch your hand after the seventh attempt, arduous as it was to get them to accept in the first place. They won't even look at you in court without trembling.
In your eighteenth year, you confront Nai in his study with all the fury and angst a young woman can muster. A worried, scared woman. "Why are you doing this?" It's a miserable ask after the tears. "I have no future if I don't have an advantageous spouse."
Nai stands from his desk—when did he get so tall?—and rounds on you. "Do you think I would let your talent go to waste to be some other man's breeding mare?"
Your fury reigns again. "Do not refer to me like that! I would have been happy—"
And Nai does something he has never done—he touches you. Grabs you. Nails digging into your side and scalp where he's woven his fingers in, you are pulled flush against him. "You would not," he mutters, dangerous, low, "be happy with another man."
A still moment. You swallow. Nai watches your throat bob with interest. Then, you say with a snarl, "If you want me so ardently, be a man about it rather than skulking in the shadows like a rat."
He laughs. Laughs! "That tongue of yours...will be your death one day." And descends on you like a panther, all muscle and laving tongue and glinting, scheming eyes.
It seems you're still not available. Especially in King Nai's employ and under his eye.
