Past His Persona (General Dara x GN!reader)
Plot: After sharing some ale with General Dara, you’re feeling down on yourself. With a drunken confidence mixing with his fondness for you, he finally gains the courage to tell you some things he could never say sober.
WC: 2.5K A/N: I read ATOC a few days ago and I couldn't get this darling out of my head. This is purely self indulgent. （￣ε￣＠）
“Your Imperial Highness, I would be honoured to accept your request.” The General spoke, his formality punctuating every word. Throughout your reign as acting Crown, you’ve come to familiarise yourself with his demeanour. As well as a subconscious plan to get through it!
“Great!” You grinned while grasping his hands. A part of you felt giddy at the sight of him trying to fight back the shade of pink at the physical contact. “Can you meet me in my quarters at dusk?”
“Of course. I will be sure to remain punctual, Your Imperial Highness.” You sighed at the name. Even though you longed for him to drop it, if that’s what he felt was necessary you knew only something serious could sway his morals. Deep down, you knew that he’d come around eventually.
You curtly tilted your head in response. Seeing the conversation was over, the General bowed and swiftly strided away. Luckily for him, you missed the shaky exhale he emitted as he turned a hallway.
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Come dusk, you sat on your plush sheets staring into the mirror adjacent to your bed. You could not help but specifically zero in on your eyes. Proof of your curse, as your mother would say.
It was ironic, due to the nature of your appearance. With something that held such a bad connotation throughout your life, you could not deny the beauty of them. Your inner ramblings ceased to run for a moment. Your lips parted as a memory with the General came to the surface
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You were sprawled out in the garden's foliage, similar to a starfish. You had gotten out of a meeting with a rather unsavoury Mir. They had practically snarled at you when you refused to indulge their absurd requests! To make it even worse, they questioned your ability to rule! Which, only you’re allowed to do.
Even though the situation was resolved when Azad subdued and disposed of the aggressor in the dungeon, your heart remained flattened. You’ve questioned your own judgement hundreds of times, effectively proving that oneself is their own worst enemy. So why did you feel so wrong?
“Your Imperial Highness?” A gruff voice echoed in the distance, interrupting your lamenting. Your first impression was that a wandering servant sought your opinion about what the colour of the drapes should be at an upcoming gala, or what hor d'oeuvre to serve. Usually something of that sort. Specifically the sort that you resented dealing with. That incited you to seal your lips, rolling over on your side and deeper into the bushes, praying to the past crowns that nobody would stumble across you.
With the noon sun bright and alive, and the warm air cradling you with compassion, your eyelids become heavy with your exhaustion. You didn’t even realise you fell asleep in the flowers until a few hours later.
“My Crown?”
The distant rustling of the foliage slowly got louder. You absentmindedly mumbled as you felt yourself half awake, dozed and disoriented. A state you’d often find yourself in before your eyes bled a warm gold.
You were lucid enough to determine the direction the rustling came from, and that it was a person rather than a rabid animal.
Your ears zeroed in on the person's footsteps, padded by the thick underbrush. They drew a few more steps before hesitating, most likely reaching the clearing in which you resided.
“(Y/N)!” The person, who you then realised was Dara, exclaimed. In your haze, you managed to sluggishly roll over to greet him. As your eyes blinked open, you came to find that he’d hurriedly, silently, strided over. The worry and amusement in his eyes betrayed his otherwise neutral expression.
Upon seeing you blearily glance up at him, he released an audible sigh of relief. With a normal General's grace, he knelt down, feeling for your temperature. Seeing that it was normal, and that you were only experiencing a bad day, he ended up sitting down near you. “It’s alright, Your Imperial Highness. Please, May you lay your head on me for your resting comfort? I will be sure that no one bothers you.”
Grumbling, you situated yourself so that you were practically spooning the General, causing him to lie down too. His breath hitched, since only anticipated that you’d simply lay your head on his lap. Dara was not used to physical contact, due to his rocky life. Though, at seeing your peaceful face nuzzled into his side, he’d held you a bit tighter.
As you were lulled back into a deep sleep, Dara’s words got progressively foggier.
“(Y/N)....
Glad you’re alright…….Worried…..
Insecure….eyes…like stars…
My shining sun.”
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Three curt knocks on your chamber door pulled your attention from memory lane. You glanced over at the alcove you prepared for your ‘time to reconvene’ as Dara would put it. There laid two velvet cushions which were adjacent to an ivory table, which was decorated with a handwoven cloth. To top everything off, you managed to track down a large flask of a very expensive ale. The snacks came from an interaction earlier, where a foreign diplomat had to make haste to leave your domain, and they left a few culinary related gifts as an apology. The atmosphere was finalised by a bijar rug, whose geometric designs provided a strange feeling of nostalgia.
“Come in!”
At your behest, the large door cracks open, revealing Dara. He glances around before coming in and shutting the door behind him. His shoulders visibly relax upon seeing your sunny grin. “Good Evening, (Y/N).”
“Dara! You had me worried for a moment, I thought you might’ve found someone else to spend the night with!” You feigned hurt. Dara sputtered for a moment, quickly recovering when he got your jest.
“Real funny. You actually got me there for a moment.” He took a few steps forward, examining the changes you’ve made to the room. “You did all of this, for me?” Your Imperial-” He hesitated, making his way over to you. Once he stood in front of you, you were able to observe his inner formalities battling with his adoration for you.
For a moment, he remained still, searching for what to say.
When he found it, his gaze met yours. His calloused hand came to meet the side of your face, gently holding it. You continued holding his gaze as he spoke.
“My Crown…(Y/N). Thank you for all the effort you put into tonight. I’m not sure how I feel about you overworking yourself on my behalf, since your company is always more than enough for me-” Dara started to trail off. It was as if he felt his words were cradling you, and the wrong ones would drop you in the void. Once he found his truths, he moved his hand to pull you into a sweet embrace. “-I will be sure to savour this night, though. Just- You doing this, for me…it means more than you know.”
You pressed a finger over the man's plump lips, shushing him. “Silence, you brazen fool. I refuse to have you imply that you are a lesser man in any way. Especially since the sole purpose I’ve invited you here is because I want to relax, and enjoy your company.”
You gently tugged on his sleeve, tempting him. “Now come on. I’ve managed to procure an array of goods. I think I even have your favourite ale!”
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From the moment you led General Dara to the alcove, straight to the moment where you both sat down, time started to fly.
You both laughed and cried for hours. The consumption of the honeyed ale progressively unwound the high strung general. It unwound him enough where you were sure at one point you managed to entice him to sing. Another distinct memory was you learning that he was proficient on the Dozaleh (a dynamic flute-like kurdish instrument) and a lover of fine music!
In your drunken haze, your awareness roller-coastered. Although there were a few more moments that were ingrained in your mind.
You didn’t know when exactly the moment happened due to your inebriation, but there was a point where your lucidity heightened, and you found yourself resting against Dara’s broad chest. You were positioned so his strong arms enveloped you as you sat on his lap. The back of your head caressed his shoulder as you both faced the fireplace. Even though your memories are fragmented, you favoured recalling the smaller details of that night as well.
You distinctly recall the slow thump of his heartbeat, possibly being one of the only times Dara’s heartbeat was that slow.
You also recalled the scent of the man encasing you, as if you were becoming one. You couldn’t describe it, but it was as if he smelt of determination. His musk had lingering scents he’d encounter undergoing his duties as General, and the places it would bring him. You smelt the savoury Qatheshian spices that street vendors peddled to interested passersby. It mixed with the pungent salt in the air of Bay Mahwi. And that was layered on loamy notes of the clayed, rocky cliffs near Shamkur.
Dara smelled like home. He reminded you of everything you're doing this for. He reminded you of what’s at stake if you manage to fail.
“Are you alright, (Y/N)?” Dara’s raspy voice shook you out of your sombre wistfulness. Leaning back, you looked up to see his oak eyes examining you. His face was relaxed, and only his brows were furrowed. “You have that look in your eye again.”
“What look?”
“The look you adorn when something is plaguing your waking mind. You stare out into space, and your skin goes a bit pale.” He held you a bit tighter, tracing abstract shapes into your skin. “Would you like to tell me what's hanging over you?” Dara questioned with the usual tone he used with you, soft, inviting, but commanding. You settled on lowering your defences, knowing that he wouldn’t cease until he knew what was the qualm that made your skin crawl.
“I don’t think I’m a good crown.” You mumbled into his furnace of a chest. Looking up at him, he raised an eyebrow in confusion.
“What? My dear. I cannot hear you when you mumble like so.” Dara brought a hand to your head, gently caressing you. “I promise I won’t judge you. I’d soon rather resign as your acting General. And you know how much I dedicate to this role, how much protecting you means to me.”
Trying your best to ignore the warmth receding from your fingertips, and the growing pit in your stomach, you repeat yourself a bit louder. “I don’t think I’m a good crown.” You’d found your lips moving sooner than you intended them to. “I feel like I'm the first crown that’s like this. An absolute mess! It takes me so long to get through the basic duties of a crown, the meetings, reviewing laws, choosing gala arrangements. All of it! Worst of all, I see how the Mirs look at me. It was fine before that incident a few days ago, but since then…”
Your breath was tangled in your throat as Dara’s hands hooked under your shoulders, flipping you with minimal struggle. He practically slammed you against him as his arms snaked around you. His chin rested on the top of your head as he held onto you. His grasp was steadfast and secure, as if he’d lose you if he were to let go. In a way, it’d be right. For his touch was the very thing that kept you floating above the ruthless current that was your insecurities.
“I apologise for my hastiness, and my impudence…but not another word.”
You met his eyes at the introduction of his stern tone. His hands moved so that one was on the small of your back, and the other held your chin. You were silently mesmerised at how the fire accentuated his facial features, casting a warm glow on him.
“(Y/N). I thank you for telling me this, for confiding in me. Now, it’s my turn to confide in you-” Once again, Dara readjusted so that both of his arms held you in a firm embrace. All while he tilted his neck so he could whisper his words in your ear. “You know I’m not a man who can navigate his feelings easily. Though I’m sure about the way I feel about you…”
For all the time you’ve known Dara, that may have been the clearest time that he’d hesitated. When he finally found his words, his expression donned a determination that you’d only seen him have on the battlefield.
“You’re a strong, capable leader. Even though you hesitate with your decisions at times, I know it’s because you’re mindful of the morale of the people around you. You’re empathetic, and you’re willing to do so much for others at the expense of yourself. Which still gives me mixed emotions, but that is crudely irrelevant.” He paused, making sure you understood him clearly. “Everytime you walk into a room, you bring a light these palace halls have direly lacked. A type of light that the past crowns lacked. You bring a certain warmth, a nostalgic comfort. You illuminate the soul of this very institution. You do it all with the kindness of the regal sun, if I may add. Anyone, any Mir who thinks differently is a fool.”
“Dara-”
The General's lips were pulled upwards as he cut you off. “No, (Y/N). I won’t let you doubt my words. I won’t let you doubt my love for you. We’ve been canoodling and canoodling, but hesitating when it gets to a certain point. I’ve been hesitating, due to my own insecurities. Not anymore. I love you, Your Imperial Highness. My crown. My (Y/N)...” For once, there remained no trace of his prior formalities in his expression. The man who held you was not the General, rather, he became just Dara. “I understand if this would change things, but I want to see where this goes. I’ve been confused about so many things in my life, like my mother, my purpose. This, though. This might be the only thing I’m sure about.”
Your mouth fell agape with astonishment. Despite your waning worries, your lingering insecurities, you felt secure. Your eyes glazed over, but you felt happy. More than happy, you felt overjoyed!
The butterflies which flew around your stomach seemed to elevate you to meet Dara’s lips, sharing a long awaited kiss. His lips were plump, and a bit chapped. You tasted receding notes of the sweet ale and savoury snacks you shared moments earlier. His kiss was assertive, hungry, and yet submissive at the same time. It was as if the pent up emotions experienced since the beginning flew throughout the air. The sadness, the longing, the passion.
Dara eventually broke the kiss to breathe, leaving his hand remaining on the back of your neck, forehead touching yours.
“My dear (Y/N), May I assist you in forgetting your woes? I know some really good distractions…”
