nasyria

You don't love yourself like he used to love you.

That feast was the last time you saw Jason Todd alive. After that, any further information regarding him got more and more worrisome. Eventually, your hands would start shaking before you could fully open a single letter with the Wayne's bat seal on the envelope, all messages written by your friend, Cassandra.

"Jason's gone. I hope Jason's just being Jason and he'll come back when he takes some time to himself."

"It has been confirmed that the Jester kidnapped Jason, tricked him somehow. He's taunting us. Apparently he's in a horrible shape. We got sent a patch of his hair. I don't know what to do. Father is loosing his mind trying to find him. He doesn't really speak as of late, he just...exists."

You thought of him everyday. Worrying sick. Praying to Lady Luna to bring him back in one piece, begging for his safe return.

It's like your body knew before you did, though. Whenever you'd think of him and where he might be, a tight knot of fear and grief would tangle up in your stomach. Tears would force themselves into your eyes and you head would start spinning.

One letter caused you to become a shell of yourself for two weeks.

"We found him. His body was unrecognizable. He only got identified later. My brave brother held out for two months out there, you know? I knew he'd fight. I'm so angry. Why couldn't he fight for a bit longer?"

"The funeral is in five days. You should make it in time. He'd want you to be there."

You mourned differently than you did after your mother's death. Your mom was ill. Everybody knew what would happen and when it would happen. You and your father were there for the last days of her life, helping her walk to the gardens and reading her favorite books to her. Making her smile. She wasn't in pain, being given the proper medicine. You got to say goodbye. She passed away at peace, surrounded by her loved ones.

Jason didn't. He died violent, young, and scared. Completely alone. He was tortured for two months, beaten and brutally executed. After the most shattering grief you've ever experienced, another type of sorrow came. Because he was alive again. Just not as himself anymore.

"Jay's back. I don't know exactly how it happened yet. Something about Thalia and The Lazarus Pit. She ressurected him. He's not the same though. That's not my brother. He looks like Jason, but he doesn't at the same time. He looks at me wrong."

"Thalia explained he'd be angry for a bit. They call it the Pit Madness. It's supposed to be temporary. He has nightmares every single night. Wakes up screaming. Snaps at us for the tiniest things."

"I find myself afraid of him."

"Jason broke Tim's nose today."

"He attacked some noble guy during a banquet. Because he was wearing a violet suit. He must've thought it was the Jester guy. He had to be restrained by four men."

Each update was more heartbreaking than the last. At that point, you wanted to ask Cassandra to stop sending you anything regarding Jason, but you couldn't. Cassandra needed someone other than her family to talk to. You knew her heart was heavy too. Inside you, there was still that glimmer of hope that maybe one day she'll say something good. That he had joined them for dinner. That he hadn't woken up screaming. Dick sent you a letter himself, begging you to come. He asked you to at least try to talk to Jay. So you did, travelling on horseback.

You ended up never seeing him again. He wouldn't allow it. You were thrown out of the part of the castle where his sleeping chambers were. He refused to talk to you, or even see you.

"I don't understand, we used to be close friends. I care about him. Tell him that."

You insisted to the guards standing before you. They both seemed like they wanted to let you in, their faces sour. Orders were orders. Perhaps they feared Jason's wrath, or that you'd be the next victim of it.

"The Prince won't see you, Your Highness. We apologize, but we were asked to escort you back."

"Just five minutes, please. I didn't ride three days here to be thrown out the door. I want to see him."

"....We apologize, Your Highness. He's set on not having to see you."

Your poor heart cracked.

Your last memory is of him as he said his farewells to you after that dumb feast, before everything went down, by kissing your whole face and making you giggle when nobody was around. Now it was as if you had never existed.

You don't know if he's still remotely close to the Jason you used to know. The sweet boy with a boyish smile and unruly raven hair, who'd insist he'll marry you when you two come of age. The boy who would drag you to the library at night when you were teenagers, to giggle at the poorly drawn sex positions on the pages. The boy who held your broken form the whole night after your mother's funeral.

You're pretty sure you don't know him anymore. Even if years later, Cassandra insists that he made progress and they're on good terms now. It's still not the same. He doesn't love you anymore. That love must've died with him and The Lazarus Pit didn't bother to bring it back. He hasn't written, hasn't invited you to visit. Tears sting your eyes and you curl up into a ball.

Everything was so perfect before that stupid criminal ripped him from you. The worst is, you can't blame him for how he's become.

His body was unrecognizable.

How could someone hurt your sweet boy like that? The one who'd shyly pick flowers for you when you were kids, because his father told him that girls like flowers. The one who'd panic whenever you fell during sparing. How could anyone torture him for weeks until he got executed? In what world would he deserve that?

He was gone, and it was time to move on. That's what you thought for the past few years.

So why in bloody hell did he agree to send you the betrothal offer?

You've been fighting your servants and demanding sleep for the past hour. Their constant walking and begging for you to get up was turning greatly annoying, considering you haven't been sleeping well. It's been a week since the court's meeting, nothing is done and the full moon (your period) is approaching. Sleep should be on top of the to-do list. The well-being of the princess should be your servants's priority, but nooo they just had to wake you every fifteen minutes.

The meek voice of your handmaiden is replaced by loud footsteps that go straight to your window.

,,It's time to wake up, spoiled brat." Your sorcery teacher, magic advisor and (unfortunately) your best friend spats, opening the curtains. You groan and hide your face in the pillow when the sun hits you. Your eyes feel dry and your muscles feel weak.

"Zatanna, fuck off."

"Stop whining, get your ass up. Or I'll levitate it to the bath chambers." She scoffs.

"Not a bad idea." You mumble. You swear you can feel the remnants of dried drool on your pillow.

"Princess, seriously. You have only two hours until the meeting. Why are you so unbothered?" She asks, yanking your sheets off. You curl up, missing the warmth.

"What meeting?" Curiosity's peaked, but you don't have a fuck to give yet.

"With Prince Orm Marius?!" Her voice rings in your ears and your eyes shot open. White panic shoots through your body and you stumble out of the bed. She steadies you by the shoulders as black dots dance in your vision.

"That's today?!"

"Oh, now you're awake!" She's the one to groan now. In comparison to you, she's the picture of a morning bird, fully clothed, smelling nice and her hair is nicely done. She guides you to walk to the bath chambers, reciting backwards incantations. You're trying to decipher them, but before you can, a towel flies into your arms. Your poor handmaiden is already finished drawing a bath. She helps you undress quickly, as Zatanna rummages through the dresses your ladies-in-waiting prepared. Someone knocks. "Not now." Zatanna calls out.

"I wish to inform that King Cassius is waiting for the princess in the great hall." Your knight says. Your muscles tense, despite sinking into warm water.

"Will you bother to mention that the Princess still has an hour to meet him there, or do you wish to make her panic, Harper?" You can hear the man snicker.

"You're going on dungeon duty for this." You hiss out loudly enough for him to hear. "Gonna think twice about your words when you sit in that cold, damp rat palace!"

"Hey, that's not fair!" He whines. "I deserve many things, but not the prison of eternal stench."

"Go bother someone else, Roy. Don't you have a kid to take care of anyway?" Zatanna asks, showing you a red dress. You shake your head no. A meeting with a potential suitor isn't the time for anything of this color. God forbid he's gonna think you want to have sex with him already, wearing a seductive dress. Getting laid would be nice, especially that you couldn't remember your last orgasm, but that's not something to do with a thirty year old man courting you.

"She has a mother too, thank you very much. Someone has to bring the bread home and protect our pretty princess!" The nickname makes you feel bitter. Jason was the one to make it up and Roy picked it up from him, back when he was still a fresh knight in Gotham. Back when he still turned to suspicious substances to feel okay.

Lian was an accident. An unexpected blessing right after Roy found out what happened to his best friend. Perhaps that's what saved him. Being away from Gotham and having his whole world wrapped up into one babygirl. He had a purpose that prevented him from drowning himself in grief.

The thought of what could've happened to him while grieving alone caused you to have a knot in your throat. You would've had to attend two funerals in the span of a month.

"Earth to my princess." The sorceress says, showing you a light blue dress. "You think this will impress the fish man?" She wiggles her eyebrows.

"You're not funny." A glare meets her eyes. You've spoken at the wrong time, because your handmaid pours water over you head that very second. "Do not. Say. A word."

"You look like a wet dog."

"I told you to shut up." You groan, but relax a bit as soap is massaged into your scalp. "I'll take the blue dress."

"Good choice. This one shows off your curves." She says. Your brows furrow, the image of how you look in it clear in your head.

In The Kingdom of Lunaris, curvy women are the standard. The statue of Lady Luna right in front of the castle is accurate to the Goddess, who was unapologetic about her figure. Most women here are. Childbearing hips were sought after, thick thighs, as well as strong arms and a belly pudge to protect the womb. How was a woman supposed to survive the cold without the extra fat keeping her warm? Lunaris is cold. It's winters can be harsh. And how is she supposed to sync with the moon's cycle if her own is gone due to malnutriton?

You're not ignorant enough as to assume the standard is the same everywhere in the world.

"What do those fish women look like? I've never been to Atlantis." You mumble.

"You're getting worked up over if fish man will find you attractive?" She asks, bewildered.

"He's a suitor. It'd be good if he thought of me as such."

"Princess." Zatanna says firmly. "If you were a stick, he'd start wondering if we have enough food in the castle and if you're still fertile or not."

"Whatever." You rest your cheek on your knee.

"Don't whatever me."

You're dried off, clothed in the ice blue dress that hugs you just right, your hair is made and you look royally dolled up. You don't eat, because the clock's ticking and quite frankly, it's not breakfast time anymore. Your stomach growls a bit when you catch the whiff of food being cooked. They're preparing a huge dinner for today.

Something smells like seafood. Fuck, are they making fish? What if that's the equivalent cannibalism for Orm and his people? You've done your research about Atlantis when you were younger, but you never stopped to think about their eating habits.

You're trying to convince yourself that the cooks would be thoughtful enough to think of some Lunarian dish to make instead.

You rehearse in your head what to say. How to greet him politely. Your back straightens and your chin goes just a tad higher. The great hall's door opens.

There they are. Two guards in the front, two guards in the back. The signature Atlantean armour on them, their faces stone cold and unwavering. The Prince is walking with a trident in one hand, a little boy's hand in the other. There's no lavish gold or riches in sight. No heavy crown, no armour on the Prince himself.

He's not how you remember him. He's older, more stoic. His eyes are soft when he looks at you. They're not hungry, they don't roam. The dark blue or his irises dips into violet. He's not towering over you as he approaches, despite his large size.

"Princess." He says softly.

"Prince Orm." You respond. You didn't mean to sound so eager.

He extends a hand and you give him yours. He's gentle. Barely touches you, as if he's afraid of breaking you. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand. It's quick, but not rushed. He doesn't force you to keep eye contact when he lets go, it shifts it to your father. You're thankful, because your cheeks are already flushed.

"It's quite the pleasure to meet you two. I'm very fond of visiting The Kingdom of Lunaris, it's an honor to dine with it's rulers."

He's genuine. Extends his hand to your father next.

"It is a delight to have you here, Prince Orm. I believe we've never had a proper conversation during any of the banquets." Your father smiles as they firmly shake hands.

You notice Thomas eyeing you curiously. Your lips twitch into a smile that you can't control, no matter how mature you want to seem. Orm and your dad gush to eachother a little, fighting on who's more happy to have this meeting. You turn your attention to the boy.

"You must be Prince Thomas?" You ask the him, leaning a bit and resting your hands on your knees. "I've heard you're a smart little guy." You haven't heard shit, but it's polite to say and he has the most adorable, big violet eyes in the world. A spitting image of his daddy.

"I'm Tommy." He finally smiles a bit. "You're very pretty." He mumbles out, looking at the floor. He's so shy. Your heart twists. You're not a mother but if you've ever felt maternal instincts, it's now.

"Thank you, polite young man. I'm quite sure you'll grow up to be as handsome as your father too." You give him a warm smile. He lets go of Orm's hand and makes a grabby gesture towards yours. Warmth shoots through your ribs. You take it gently, and straighten up, now walking with him by your hand as a servant leads all of you to the dining room. Tommy marches proudly by your side, clearly happy that the pretty lady is giving him attention.

You can feel Orm's gaze on your back. It doesn't feel threatening though. You have a hunch he heard your comment about him being handsome.

You all sit at the long dining table, and Tommy makes a pouty face when he has to let go of your hand. A wave of relief washes over you when you see Lunarian cousine serves on the table.

"It brings me great joy that you've started considering me as a potential match."

Orm's smile is warm. It doesn't quite reach his eyes, but the corners of them crinkle a little. You gather your courage to speak openly. Your father can't be your voice forever.

"We're looking for a union with someone who has the same political views. As you know, we're not very happy with what Lord Protector of Metropolis is doing."

Your palms are sweating. He's so manly. You avert you gaze a little, not to stare at his biceps. God, you seriously need to get laid somehow. You want to bite them.

"I'm well aware of your stance on what Lex Luthor is doing. I can imagine our alliance with Metropolis must be quite worrisome for you." His smile fades, his expression turning serious. He doesn't look away from when he continues. "My brother, Arthur, is the ruler of Atlantis. I have no say in the matter of his friendship with Lex. I can only tell you that if it were up to me, Atlantis would have already cut off their trade with Metropolis. The Lord Protector isn't our friend. He's a threat to us, just like he is to other nations."

Your heart feels lighter. Your father nods and hums in agreement. He speaks up.

"Troops from Metropolis have been banging at our door for some time now. Under the excuse of trade or spreading the word of The Lord Protector's greatness. Then again, if they come in peace, why do they come armed?" He explains. It's true. You get reports about it a few times a week, as the poor knights ask you what to do. You can't hurt Lex's soldiers, because it could be considered a reason for Metropolis to attack you. Backing them off has been an issue for some time now.

"It's turning into a disturbing cult." Prince Orm grumbles. "If we do, marry, Princess. I'll be happy to support your choices regarding any potential war. If Lunaris, Gotham, Themiscyra and eventually, my brother go against Metropolis together, I'm sure we shall succeed and overthrow the dictator." He says it firmly, like he's carefully thought it through.

"We're not going to initiate a war, unless it's necessary." You say. ,,We're doing what we can to be a peaceful Kingdom. No need to loose people over it's ruler's disputes."

"Very well, my Princess." He smiles a bit at you again. He looks content with your words. Not amused, more impressed. "I trust your choice."

The dinner is surprisingly pleasant. Your father and Orm get along well. Tommy's allowed to chime in despite his age, often saying something cute, or asking a question. Orm is patient with him, answers everything and praises the boy when he understands something complicated. The food is great, as it always is and by the end of dessert, Orm turns to you.

"Would you perhaps walk me through the gardens, princess?" He asks. ,,With a chaperone, of course."

"Yes, of course." You're taken by surprise. He just gives you a reassuring smile. Tommy tugs on his sleeve.

"Daddy can I come too?" He pleads.

"Only if the pretty lady allows it." Your heart flutters.

"You can come with us, sweet boy." You say.

Your father stays at the castle, most likely entertained by the guards. He had a habit of talking to foreign soldiers and making conversation about his own time as a royal knight. He always ends up making them forget that they're speaking to a King.

You get up. Tommy runs up to you and takes your hand before you can register it. Orm walks by his son's side. Not too close, but not too far from you. You lead them to the gardens and a chaperone is deployed somewhere behind you, though she makes sure not to get too close. You show them the garden, full of old statues, marble architecture and greenery. It's undoubtedly the most beautiful part of the castle's grounds. Wind is gradually turning colder with the last months. Winter is coming soon, but for now, the sun is still here, casting a warm glow over everything.

"May I speak freely?" The Prince asks after a while, when the woman watching you is far enough to see you, but not to hear you.

"Yes, you may." Being asked for permission by a man almost ten years your senior is a strange feeling.

"I know you might be a bit uncomfortable with my age."

"It's not like tha-"

"It's alright, princess, I understand. I'm not offended." He chuckled softly. "I didn't send you the marriage offer because I'm a predator who's preying on young women. Oceans, no." He doesn't have a stick shoved up his ass. Good to know.

"Isn't that what a predator would say?" You allow yourself to joke.

"Princess, I may be a man, but I am not a liar." He rolls his eyes. "There's no right way to word it. I wanted to say my intentions are pure."

"Good point."

,,Look! A birdie!" Tommy suddenly beams, pointing at a bird. It's reddish belly catches in your vision. It's a robin. Must everything remind you of Jason? It's like he cursed you on purpose. Tommy runs in front of you, but not close enough to scare the bird. He crouches down and observes it. Orm joins him and takes time to explain to him what a robin is.

You observe them for a moment. Orm isn't a politician, or a Prince right now. He's a dad. He stands up and lets his son walk around to see all of the statues. He comes back to you.

,,I'm sure you know my past. What I've been through." He begins. ,,My wish now is to simply have someone by my side. Someone to love and cherish. I want Thomas to grow up with a mother figure. A woman capable of loving a child that's not hers. That's why I brought him here with me. If you decide I'm the right one, he's coming too."

,,I get it." You say quietly.

,,You don't have to make your decision now, or tell me anything." He says, gazing at you with a hint of admiration. He brushes a stray hair behind your ear. His thumb lingers on your cheek. His gaze flickers to your lips for a mere second that you barely catch. ,,If you choose another, I'll honor your decision. I won't hold it against you."

You're about to speak, but he's faster once again.

,,You'd be perfect for me though." He almost whispers and his hand falls back.

gotta admit i kinda wanna write sex with orm just to feed you some smut

Your mind wanders to a knight of the name Clark Kent. Sun-kissed by the God of the Sun, as The High Priestess believes, and the only hope the neighbouring Kingdom has.

You sit in the soft, cushioned chair in your chamber. Right in front of your vanity. Someone comes in without a word, meaning it's your family. You keep your gaze focused on the hand-written paper, signed by a single "S"at the end of the page. Your father never assigned any spies to you, but you have. One person or two from each country to report weekly. Lois has never dissapointed in her reports, even if you doubted her "strictly proffesional relationship" with the overly enthusiastic knight. 

You skim over the paper as your father approaches. Lois described how Lex is making more people dependent on him, caging smaller Kingdoms in his carefully crafted prison. Which is troubling, because Luthor is like the plague. He's a disease that latches itself onto everything that looks or acts weak enough. Soon, everything and everyone would look vulnerable to him. Any Realm that leans into his influence or is dependent on him, is already in trouble. That's why you must marry soon. Create an alliance strong enough for Lex not to look your Kingdom's way. Not to prey on your people and make them rely on his money like Blüdhaven, Keystone and Central or Markovia.

"Princess." You heard a deep, gruff voice behind you. "You know why I came here." He added, more softly this time. Your father, the King Regent.

"Because the Metropolis hates us and I shall marry and have babies soon. Just so the bald fuck is not a threat." You snarled, sick of the tradition. Sure, the women were the heirs around here. Lunaris had been a matriarchy since it's beggining. It never saved anyone from an arranged marriage though. "So what now? I marry some snob from Keystone, or Atlantis? Have offspring so we can overthrow the Dominion?" The anger was never aimed to your father, but to the system. Especially to Lex.

"Watch your language. I'd never force you to live in the same breathing space as him."

"I'm prepared for anyone" 

He huffs. As he always does.

"You shouldn't be."

Your father's large hand lands on your shoulders. You see his reflection in the mirror right in front of you. Soft eyes and protective statue, one that had shielded you from harm since you could fit on his one hand. His eyes, soft, the same color as yours. Reassuring that if a man does you wrong, he'll dissapear in less than a few hours. Your dad had already lost the love of his life. He wouldn't loose what was left of her.

"You're not passive in this. Have a bit of faith, babygirl. I know this is less than ideal, but finding love and happiness in an arranged union isn't impossible. It's not guaranteed, but you're not being reduced into anything by a marriage."

His smile is soft and comforting. Eases your guts for a second. Ignites hope that perhaps Lady Luna will fate you to a man who will love you just as much as your father loved your mother. His love has now turned into grief, having nowhere to go. He pours it onto you and your people, but there will always be that aching pain of loss.

He comes closer and hugs your neck from behind. You hug his arms as they hold you. You close your eyes and let his scent fill your nostrils. Smoke and iron. His embrace is just as warm and firm as it had been when he carried you to his and your mother's bed as a child.

"You know you can count on me. I'll do my best to advise you." He reassures.

Your mother wasn't perfect, but she chose the right man to be your dad. A mere highborn lord from Metropolis. The best husband and father who never remarried after your mother's illness took her. She had divine intuition. Something you lack.

"I'm afraid I'll choose wrong. That my intuition may fail me." You say quietly, because in all truth, there was no telling who the right man for you was. You've never trusted your gut like your mother did.

'"I don't know how to help you, babygirl. I'm sorry. You wanted to try tarot, yeah?"

"Keeps throwing out the wheel of fortune and the Empress."

"Ouch." He smiled a bit though. "They'll eventually show you what you need."

"Yeah, right. When it's divorce time." You scoff.

"Don't be like that, darlin". Don't bend under your duty. Bend it to your will." He says, as if reciting a verse. Because that's most likely what he's doing.

"Must you be so wise, father?" You finally chuckle. Your muscles relax and you're ready to talk about those stupid blokes you'll have to choose from.

"Do you want to hear about them now?" He adds softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before pulling away. He started to brush out your hair a bit.

"Yeah, alright. Get on with it."

The thought of it is quite strange. There are men who  have talked to their families about you. Men, who have decided you'd be the one suitable to bear their offspring and lead policits with. Men, who have decided your Kingdom would have all the resources they need. They'd take, and take, and take, Until there's nothing left, Until a patriarchy remains. The thought makes you nauseous, but now is not the time to dwell.

"First one is Barry Allen of The Marches of Central. He's quite the Marquess. A polite nobleman."

"I've never even seen him. Never heard of him either. He's a no-name with no real influence now. Central is chained to Metropolis."

The Marquess is in a difficult position. The Marches would fall apart without the support of the Republic.

"It wasn't his choice. We shall arrange a meeting if you wish. There's tension amongst the civilians, the working class hates Lex. An alliance with us would cut off Metropolis from their steel. Our allies from Gotham and Themiscyra would definetly help out." Your father said immediately. "He's not the only one. We have also...Prince Orm Marius of The Empire of Atlantis."

You huff. "He's thirty. Not to mention how his brother's friends with the bald f-"

"Thirty isn't a hundred. Prince Orn is a respectable man. His wife died years ago and he's loyal to Atlantis first, The Emperor second. He already has his heir, a son at that. He's sympathetic in regards to your position. He promised to wait until you're ready for children and marriage. He's in no rush, which is quite surprising for a man his age. It's a small mercy on you. You're well aware no suitor is expected to be patient with you. He wishes to meet you before the potential betrothal. And he has yet to announce his stance of the Republic's situation."

"That's what worries me, dad. Metropolis is a Dominion, not a Republic. Anyone who's undecisive, is wrong."

".....What about Jason Todd of House Wayne?

The air stills and the knot in your stomach tightens. The stolen moments you had together years ago resurface. The green of his eyes glimmer in the emerald hairpin you keep on your vanity mirror.

"The boy you've trained swordsmanship with, when we traveled to the Crownlands with your mother. Back when she and Lady Thalia were close friends." He said softly, rubbing your shoulder. Your mother's loss was still an open wound, with poured salt in it. "His father sent the proposal yesterday. Prince Jason has no bastards, never entertained whores. No desire to be the rightful heir. He'd be content with being a Consort. His stance is clear. Against Lex, he's ready to support Kent's revolution if you decide to make a move."

"You're so certain about the no-bastards claim. It's borderline foolish. All Kings and Princes have illegitimate heirs by the age of sixteen. Besides, he's known for his violence. He's angry."

You're trying to convince yourself he is. You know him- or rather knew him. There's no predicting who he is now. You've heard of the fights, his recklessness and detachment from his father.

"Those might be empty claims. Don't throw all men into the same bag. For an exaple: do you have any sisters or brothers  that didn't come from your mother's womb?" 

You click your tongue. "You're an exception."

"I'm not, sweetheart. Good men exist, believe it or not." He chuckles. "You know Bruce. He doesn't lie, especially about matters like these. He wouldn't write that if he wasn't certain."

"....Jay's reckless." You mumble, a certain memory from the library of the Wayne Palace flashes by your brain. Something so foolish and risky and yet, you find yourself thinking fondly of it. "I've heard of his many conquests."

"Conquests that never happened. The boy was too busy dying and getting ressurected."

".....Maybe you're right."

The court is unusually quiet. Even the usual hustle and bustle of the castle's staff outside the large door is barely noticeable. Lady Veroniya would often raise from her seat, open the door and scream at the servants outside of it to quiet down. Right now, there was no need to. You're the one to raise your voice first , a bit hesitant. You weren't prepared to become Queen so quickly, not in such circumstances with the weight of a potential war on your shoulders. 

"An arranged marriage is a custom as old as our tradition." 

You cringe at your own words, but the senior ladies like it when you're polite, and right now you need their guidance. You don't make a face or hunch in your seat, you can't afford looking fragile.

"I have no word against it. I cannot fight or rearrange it. I simply ask you for....your opinion in regards to my suitors."

Silence falls for another moment. It's the awkward kind of silence, the one's everybody's afraid of breaking. Shuffling of papers comes from the right side of the table. Then a calm voice follows.

"Prince Orm." 

Lady Aradne speaks first. Head of Trade and Commerce, the youngest of your advisors in the council, having just turned twenty-eight. She has her head screwed on good.

"He is thirty, I am aware. He's experienced and his political views are flexible. He's been heartbroken since his wife's death. He already has one son, his own heir if anything were to happen to The Emperor or his children. Princess Hannah passed in childbirth to give him the boy. It means won't preassure you into childbearing."

The Lady brushes away the ginger hair from her face, skimming over the papers her servants must've prepared with information on the suitors. She looks like a fox turned human.

"Orm Marius is stability. If I may be frank....he's known grief, my Lady. He knows the brutality of life and he could lead you through uncertain times. He's also known to be a great father to his young son." She states firmly. Your heart started beating faster at the thought of being his wife. It wasn't the nice kind of heart palpitations, it was the kind that makes black dots dance in your vision. Bedding a thirty year old widower sounded like a nightmare you could get.

"What about the other matches?" You ask, wanting to shift the topic away from the man. Away from Atlantis.

Lady Veroniya, Commander of the Queen's Guard clears her throat. She's a bit older than Lady Aradne, but much sharper and more experienced. The kind of woman to give you blunt honesty without comfort.

"Marquess Barry doesn't have the best reputation. He is said to be suspiciously close to his cook, Lady Iris. We can't afford a situation as such, you know the consequences well. If Allen was to stray from your union-"

"He would've been beheaded and we could go to potential war. Not worth the risk." You speak. Per Lunaris's tradition, all heirs must come from the Queen's womb. Lady Luna can only bless legitimate children. If the King Consort has a bastard, it places a curse upon his whole lineage. Often times, the men were beheaded in Lunaris for such affairs.

"There is only one suitor who matches you in will and bloodline: Prince Jason." Lady Thalia of House al Ghul says. Her own family would never let her be the heir, but The Court of Lunaris respected the power she had. Your mother and she were great friends. Thalia was bound to favor an alliance with Gotham, because King Bruce is her husband. They were in separation, but it was clear how they still felt about eachother.

"He's violent." Lady Veroniya says firmly, glaring at Thalia.

"He's fiercely loyal." Lady Thalia corrects the younger woman. There's tension between the two, ever since they met. That's what happens when two of the strongest and most stubborn warriors in The Kingdom come face to face. Which happened often, especially with Veroniya being the Commander and Thalia being the Chief Political Strategist. "The claims about his character are purely rumoured."

"Every rumour has a cause, doesn't it?" Lady Veroniya bristles, her smile bitter. It was quite strange to see a woman with honey-brown eyes and a face covered in freckles be so unwelcoming. "If you wed Prince Jason, you'd bring Gotham's darkness to our gates." Her eyes suddenly meet yours, making you swallow.

"....Do you think he could ever turn his anger towards me?" You speak , almost too softly. You know Jason. He wouldn't do that. You want to believe he wouldn't. It's just been so long since you've seen eachother. You've heard tell of how he changed, how he is now.

"No." Thalia leaves no room for such claim.

The knot in your guts forms itself once more. Another voice saves you from speaking. Your heart feels lighter as the violet-eyed woman makes a statement. The High Priestess, Nymeria.

"Rumours serve the enemy, not us. The Prince placed in a bad light works in favor to Lord Protector Lex Luthor and his allies. The Kingdom of Lunaris and The Crownlands of Gotham being united by marriage  would become a great threat to the Republic." The white haired woman explains, the oldest in court. The other women nod in agreement. Nobody would dare to defy the High Priestess' words.

"I've known Prince Jason since his boyhood. He's my son's older brother and my husband's child. He's not the violent monster he's presented as by some courts. I'm sure all of you know what The Jester has done to him." She almost hisses out the name of the criminal. "Perhaps you would've understood him better, if you too were brutally executed and dragged back into the realm of the living against your will. Do not mistake anger for madness."

Creaking of the old chairs is louder than anyone's breathing.

"Wouldn't we sleep better if the sea was on our side?" Lady Ariadne speaks once more to ease the tension. Lady Veroniya nods to her.

"I support Lady Ariadne's opinion. Orm is an experienced man, he's reasonable and decisive. He would surely become your protector. He's already known genuine love, he could show it to you."

"I don't agree." Thalia makes herself clear. The High Priestess seems to be in deep thought. "Prince Orm, as well as Emperor Arthur are misogynists. Atlantis is aggressive in it's patriarchy. What do you think will happen if our Queen dies before bearing a female heir? Orm stays here, with his son. They take over."

Her explanation made painful sense. Lunaris would never be the same. 

"Gotham is a patriarchy as well. We could say the same about Jason." Lady Ariadne reasons.

"I assure you, Jason is not a power hungry man. If he wanted power, he would already have taken it, married some Princess much more naive than ours. He hasn't. If I'm being honest, Jason doesn't concern himself with politics unless he has to."

"How do we know Orm is so starved for power?" Lady Veroniya asks.

"His older brother is making deals with a Dictator and he hasn't questioned it even for a second."

"Perhaps he can't"

"Can't? He's a grown man, a highborn one. He should've made his stance clear from the beggining." Thalia wanted to bristle. Tension was arising again. The red haired woman opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when The High Priestess raised her hand.

"This meeting is over." The senior announced. "We shall resume when Lady Luna tells me so." She added calmly, standing up and turning to leave.

Tension starts melting off your muscles as you watch the women leave, saying their respective goodbyes without a further argument. There's a lingering weight in your heart. You have more questions than answers, at least until Nymeria decides to call for another meeting. 

You know both men. You've met both during banquets, feasts, alliance meetings. 

Orm is tall. Huge. Black hair, deep, dark blue eyes. He's always serious, but smiles often. Sharp jawline and cheekbones, a glare when his face is relaxed. You can picture his features as you remember them. He's attractive, yes, but he's....intimidating. When he gets lost in thought, he looked like he's troubled by the weight of the whole world.

Jason is.....Jay. He looks almost exactly like Bruce. He's also tall, muscular, he was quite lean the last time you saw him. Black hair as well. Green eyes. And that stupid, stupid boyish grin that made you soft.

It's late. The Moon is too bright and the city's too loud outside your window. You're in your bed. Thinking about nothing other than what happened a few years ago. During a feast between royal families. You can't even remember who even was there, exactly.

Except you do remember you and Jason in the library, without a chaperone because Dick chose not to traumatize himself. Jason wouldn't hold back, even if it meant scarring Dick for life and making him watch.

"We're not breakin' any rules here, yeah? It doesn't count if I'm not inside you." His breath is warm against your neck as he holds you pinned to the wall from behind. Your fingernails dig into the wooden shelves. You can practically hear Jason's stupid smirk. "We're not technically doing anything wrong. I ain't putting a baby into you. Not yet."

"We still shouldn't-" Your breath comes in short gasps as his fingers rub the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, his hand under your dress. His clothed cock is rubbing against your ass. He's as hard as a rock.

"You're not stoppin' me though, are you?" He kisses your neck. Gods, how he wished he could leave a mark. Show everyone who exactly taught the pretty princess all of the wrong things. Your knees are weak and his arm hugs your middle not to let you fall. His hand squeezes your plush side occasionally, or reaches to knead your boob. "Let yourself feel good for once." He murmurs against your skin. "You've been so tense the whole dinner..."

He slips his chubby finger inside you. It's thick. A second one joins it. You spread your legs to give him access like a common whore. He finds that gummy spot of yours painfully fast. He stars to abuse it and just when your breaths get faster, there's a third inside you.

"Jay, I-I can't." You huff out, knees giving out. You're seeing stars. Your poor legs shake as you stand, wave after wave of pleasure claiming you. He holds you steady.

"Good girl. That's it. Jus' let go." His voice is soothing. It's soft. You focus on his warmth when he pulls out his fingers, leaving you empty. On how tenderly he holds you. He helps you turn to him and cleans his fingers by licking them clean. "Sweet." He gives you a shit eating grin.

"You're filthy." You scoff. 

"Aye, fucked yer ass once." He chuckles, his mind already elsewhere. He started rubbing your hips, staring down at their width and the small pudge of your belly. He gently squeezes it. Red flushes your cheeks and ears. "So soft. Gonna carry my baby here someday.

"Oh shut it!" You scoff. "Just wanted to get you off quickly, so you could stop panting in my ear like a tired mutt."

"I'd say somethin', but you'd just get mad. Y'know, about the way you kept whimpering and came twi-" His mouth is shut by your hand. I... I know it... hmph... hurt... but you... seem to like... hmph... when it hurts..." He mumbles anyway. Stubborn mule. You jerk your hand away when he licks it.

"What about you now? I can't just...leave you hard." You mumble. "You can't just walk back to the hall with a tent."

"Don't worry about it, love. I already came in my pants." He's all smiles and his hair is ruffled. He's so fucking handsome. You rub your nose bridge and sigh.

"Do you have any ounce of shame?"

"Not with you, pretty princess. Why? You wanted a taste of my cum? That can still be arranged." His eyebrows are shot up in hopes.

"We have to get back." You say more softly. You've already been gone for too long and soon, Damian would start prowling the halls of the castle in hopes of finding you in a compromising position.

You press your lips to his. They're soft. He turns the kiss feverish, like the starved man he is. You pull apart and his lips brush over yours as he whispers. He's not smiling anymore, lips parted. His eyes follow yours like they're locked in. There's nothing that matters around you for him, not when you're here.

"I'm obsessed." He says.

"I know."

"I'll kill whoever guy might try to marry before me."

"Jason, don't say-."

"I fuckin' swear I will." He says, before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "You're mine, mark my words, I don't care about anything you have to say 'bout it." There's determination in his eyes.

A part of you wants to see it happen.

Anyways. There’s one problem men always complain about. Getting hard at random, sometimes during time they shouldn’t be. It doesn’t have to do anything with the situation, or a simple touch or rub does the trick and they’re bricked up. Of course not every time ends up with jerking off, sometimes it just passes.

So when your Commander gets hard when he’s spooning you from behind, often times you feel something hard pressing against your ass. Sure, most of the time he wants to fuck you, but sometimes you’re both way too tired. He’s just so happy to be able to be so close to you, you know?

- Ignore it. - he mutters as soon as he becomes aware you can feel it. The paperwork was exhausting, talking to Shepherd was even worse and he had to filter out some soldiers to recruit. His eyes were half closed the entire evening until he got to your quarters. - Just sleep. - he adds.

- You sure? - you ask. Men can be tricky when it comes to that matter. Especially when you’re in the presence of one who believes your body was carved by Aphrodite and would absolutely undress you right now if you simply asked.

- It’s like a dog wagging his tail. - he mumbled. - Jus’ excited to see you, dove. - he sighs deeply, kissing the back of your neck, tucking your hair away so he can smell and touch your skin.

- Yeah? So yer a dog now? - you chuckle. He gave you a free opening for a roast, so that’s only his fault.

- Careful. Jus’ go to sleep.

- Affirmative. - you mutter back, melting back into him.