choke me out i guess

Just how long was he planning on making you his broodmare? 

He has enough foresight to plan this out- you wouldn’t even be surprised if he was the little bird who whispered into your dearest grandfathers ear to have you wed the Viper in the first place. 

His so-called fool-proof plan was followed to every dot and cross, but he failed to mention that the noble you’d fuck, steal, and have a child for would be him. 

Thinking even further back, it was unlikely that this was the start of it all. Seeing him now, you can see the hunger in his eyes, and the confidence in his walk. This is a patient man, a man with power, and those are particularly dangerous. 

He knew exactly what he was doing, and he sure as the seven knew that everyone else would play to his game.  

If only you’d taken after your mother just a little bit more, perhaps you could’ve played it better. 

When you arrived at the vale, you were hidden as Sansa’s handmaiden, an Elysa Mane, insignificant to them. 

Yet, you weren’t surprised by the venomous look you received from the lady of the Eyrie. You were carrying her future husband’s child after all. Not that she knew that, if she did, you were sure you’d take a trip down the moon passage by the end of the day.

Though, it was comforting that at least Sansa was safe and with family, the poor girl was never meant for these games. Though you cringed when Lysa suggest that she marry her son. You wanted to gag, but you knew better than to anger a woman a few sticks short of a stack. 

So when Petyr Baelish visited your chambers, you decided to face him as best you could. 

“So, pray tell what you intend to do now, oh Lord Protector of the Vale.”

“If I told you too soon it wouldn’t be a surprise my lady” He stated, fondly staring down at your belly. So small, with no visible bump, yet you both knew what lay beneath your silks. 

“Yes, you’re never in the habit of spoiling surprises are you? Say- should I happen to spoil a surprise of my own, what do you think would happen?”

He smiled, before sliding behind you, his hands laying so gently on your belly as his head rest on your shoulder. 

“Nothing that I couldn’t handle, my lady. Though I’d appreciate it if you kept your surprises to yourself for just a little longer.”

“Why not? It would be the perfect wedding gift, I’m sure your blushing bride would welcome a young one running around these boring halls.”

“Because if you did, it would make marrying you all the more difficult.”

You slapped him. 

“How dare you-”

And he kissed you. 

“Now what do you think-”

And again.

“Stop- stop it-”

“No, I don’t think I will”

He was playing with you now and he was enjoying it to the fullest. It was frustrating, and also so heart-breaking. The man you trusted was nothing more than a cheat- the best damn cheat in Westeros. 

“Princess, trust me. Neither you nor our child will waste away in these halls as a handmaiden.”

And he didn’t stop, he kept kissing you until you ended up in your bed, and soon, you were disrobed. You tried to resist, but you also missed him. Perhaps it was the pregnancy, but as much as you hated this- he had carved a place in your heart as the first man you bedded, the father of your child, and the first man to have helped you. Not that you’d tell him this, especially not now.

Unlike his new wife, you kept your hand over your mouth if not to preserve whatever dignity you had left. No need to share that you were bedfellows lest you risked you and your child’s life. 

You avoided the topic of marriage henceforth. No need to listen to liar, you had an inkling he would never tell you the truth anyway. 

You thought you were getting somewhere when he invited you to the front landing of the Eyrie. Perhaps a walk? Would he come clean of his plans? It was better than feeling like his bedwarmer as all your meetings were in your chamber. 

It was during this stroll around the Eyrie that you really noticed the moon door. It was wide open, odd and terrifying yet so mesmerising, you wanted to feel your feet swing in the cold air, but you also wanted to seal it close and never open it again. 

But when you felt two hands push you, your heart fell through your stomach and you immediately clasped at the air, at your belly- as a hand then grasped yours and pulled you back. 

You were forcefully smothered into a familiar chest, you couldn’t think, only focusing on the fact you were alive, your baby was alive-

“How dare you-” His voice rung with such wrath, but so did hers. 

“How dare I? She’s the little chit whose bed you’ve been warming isn’t that right?!”

“So you push her down the moon door?”

Lysa- Lysa Arryn- no, Lysa Baelish, just tried to kill you? For sleeping with her husband? 

She tried to kill you and your child- because of him? Angry at him, but she wanted you dead?

Anger isn’t the word you’d describe yourself. Your rage was boiling, and you were oh so tempted to do something terrible. 

You wanted to push her down the door- push her down with her stuttering little twit of a son- but you couldn’t be so cruel. 

Your eyes slid to Petyr. 

But he could.

“Now my Lysa, my love, do you think I would do that to you?”

And there he was, your favourite liar. He acted nothing like a cheating spouse, but he was exactly that. 

“I could never, not after all we have gone through- all you have done for me.”

Even as his arms left you, and his hands were pressed into the cheeks of your almost-murder, you felt that there was nothing that you should be jealous of. Her eyes full of ire shifted from you, to his, and softened. No doubt looking into eyes full of a facsimile warmth.

“But you know, there is only one woman who I’ve ever loved deeper than I did Cat-”, she flinched there but, her hands were over his now, she looked so hopeful-

“-and you just tried to kill her.”

With a firm, resolute shove, Lysa Arryn fell through the moon door. A look of terror and betrayal were all you saw on her face as she fell. 

Petyr’s eyes were cold, yet so satisfied.

And you had no doubt yours were just the same. 

When his grey-blue eyes turned to you, he cupped your face with the hand that just killed a woman- his wife- and kissed you.

“I hope that’s erased any lingering doubts, princess.”

And when he smiled, you believed him. 

Extra: Petyr Baelish’s POV - Compensation 

Petyr Baelish is a calculated man, he’s calm, he’s concise and he is nothing but pleasant... to your face. But when he first laid eyes on the young princess he couldn’t help but want to be... discourteous. Is she young enough to be his daughter? Yes. But, he not once looked at her like his child. Anything but.

At first all he saw was Cat, Cat, Cat. For years. Even more so when her daughter arrived to the capital, the spitting image and still so beautiful but there was something... lacking with Sansa. Something he just wasn’t content with. Too much work, too much softness.

But when he saw the princess- she was something else. A force of her own, she had power but she just didn’t wield it. It frustrated him, but her presence was something he became accustomed to too quickly. He’d never seen nobles who didn’t want an itch scratched somewhere, whether it was in their pocket or somewhere more private. But she only ever visited to entertain him- under the pretence of finding her father, but she knew exactly where he was every time. His room never changed. And every time she chose to see him instead. No, she came for him. She was a fool if she didn’t think he’d never notice.

She’d deny it, but he knows people, he knows her. He’d been watching her for a while, his little birds reporting on everything and anything. He knows who she spoke to, whom she liked, whom she hated. He knows whose name she cries when she thinks she’s all alone in her room, in the deep of night with travelling fingers.

Yet, she still chose that blithering sword-swallower, Loras Tyrell. He was seething, but he held himself together, he knew that the boy wouldn’t touch a hair on her head. But, it irked him nonetheless.

So when the princess appeared before him after her fathers very tragic accident, eyes red and teary, her once pleasant face marred with pain, he saw her grief and an opportunity. He invited her to his chambers and went to work. He’d used every trick in the book and then some, her face and body in the throes of passion were nothing short of art, and he the willing purveyor. And her voice- almost addictive. He’d keep her in his chambers if he could, but alas he couldn’t kidnap the princess just like that, could he? Though it was so tempting...

To his very pleasant surprise a few moons later, she revealed that she was with child. With his child. He found it strange that she hadn’t run and taken some moon tea straight after their tryst. And perhaps, this is why.

This stroked something deep inside him. He couldn’t let her slip anymore. It wasn’t enough to have to visit anymore. No, he needed her next to him. Or rather, he wanted his place next to her.  

So he whisked her away as her little brother choked on a poison he procured, and made way to the Vale. Of course there was the trouble of his marriage, but nothing that couldn’t be amended. Unsurprisingly, her family were quiet, reeling over the loss of their son no doubt, and too busy fighting the young wolf up north. A problem for later, then.  

First, the Vale, then once the dragon, lion and the wolves kill each other, he’ll place her on the throne.

He took every moment he could to be with her, which was rare, his new wife was keeping a close eye on him, but that didn’t stop him. Instead, he welcomed it, leaving less than subtle hints that he was seeing another woman; “dearest, I’ve work to finish, don’t wait for me tonight”, before returning well into the early hours with a subtle glow to his skin. No paperwork is that tiring, nor does it leave marks on his back. 

He felt a true fear when the thought he missed her hand as she fell through the moon door, and he was almost, almost, unable to restrain his anger for his wife. Or, soon to be, ex-wife. 

He’d never felt so liberated, seeing Lysa fall through the moon door.

That night he and his princess shared his bed, their bed, for many nights to come.

He’d defended himself in his trial, no one could deny that Lysa was not fully there. He argued that she was unnaturally paranoid and jealous, to the point that she tried to pull him down the moon door as she fell through as a final act of devoted love. He played the part of distressed and widowed husband perfectly. 

After this he noticed a change. His princess was more... open with her affections. Especially in private. She seemed to have finally embraced the truth.

“Sweetling, did you miss me?”

“Perhaps, but I think your child missed you more.”

“Now, don’t hide behind our child-”

“I’m not, if you move a little faster I’ll be able to show you exactly how I feel.” 

For the time being, his princess would have to remain hidden a little longer- only until their child was born. 

Or rather, children. Twins. She bore him twins, and he was ecstatic. 

And even then, she remained hidden. He wanted to be selfish this time, the realm would survive without her for a few more months.

And, it’s the least he could do- she owed him a debt. 

“Well, I can guarantee that our service is always to his needs, unless you’d like to sample our services as well? We cater to all wants, my lady.”

“If your girls could fix my father’s bad habits, I’ll be thankful.”

“My lady, no whore is that good.” 

The light banter was almost enough to keep you coming back, no one ever had the gall to be so cheeky with a princess. 

You didn’t really get to know him until he stepped into his role as the master of coin. He was downright cunning, and you were almost envious of the power he wielded.

It was nothing compared to true power, the power that comes with a throne, but it was impressive. You often wondered how terrifying it would be if he had it. 

But, when you were handed a proposal to wed the red viper himself, you knew exactly who to turn to. 

“Baelish, if I may request your services.”

“Mine? Well I am flattered your highness and I’m sure we can make arrangements-”

“Don’t be daft, take me to your offices. Or shall I ask my dearest knight to escort the both of us?”

“Is he not a few doors down, enjoying a young brunette if I remember?”

“Is he? I was certain he was with a red head.”

“No... I recommended her myself after all.”

Past all of the pleasantries he was more than willing to support you in escaping your marriage. He said it wouldn’t do the country well if it’s only viable heir was off popping out children, or something of the like. 

It’s sweet he considered you an heir, knowing full well your mother would rather birth another child then watch you take the throne.

“You are far too brash, just like your father. A lady does not go to whorehouses.” She had scolded, her beautiful blonde brows so tightly wound after hearing you had gone to hunt your father down once more. 

“Neither do kings, and yet that is where ours resides, mother.” 

You couldn’t leave the castle for a month after that. And your cheek was a less than healthy shade of red as well. But you can’t help that, it seemed nothing you did pleased her, so you did what you wanted, consequences be damned. 

His plan was simple, yet... odd. You didn’t argue of course, there were very few in the palace you could trust, yet you found yourself trusting him. Foolish, but perhaps a necessary risk.

The plan was to sway public opinion of you, to the point it would reach the ears of the Dornish, and they would rescind their proposal. Your reputation would take a hit but your hand would remain free. 

First you would change yourself, your style of dress, your manner of speech. 

“Become more like... one of my girls”, he had suggested. 

“I’d rather get married, thank you”. 

You almost walked out, but agreed. It was only temporary, you’d told yourself.

Second, socialise like you were to die tomorrow.

“Your connections are poor your highness, worse than mine.” He’d said with a smile.

“Unsurprising, you’re the most well-connected man here”. He said nothing, smiling a bit more genuinely this time. 

Third, create a scandal.

“Fuck a few nobles, steal them if they're married, or better yet, have a child.”

“In that order? Or can I make amendments?”

“Your Highness, I’m starting to think you’d do well in my business.”

And so it was agreed, you were to become the epitome of a reckless noble who knew nothing but luxury and indulgence. You were going to be the spitting image of your father, if you weren’t already. It wasn’t difficult given your already similar looks and your reputation for causing a stir in the whorehouses. 

Step one went by with no problems, you mother was more than happy to help you ‘become a lady befitting her title’, and was even more delighted when you started fulfilling your duties at events.

She wasn’t happy when you started taking things too far, your dresses became more immodest and she stopped calling on you when you started returning to Littlefinger’s brothels.

You’d still attend social events when possible, and if anything your poor reputation made them all the more fun when nobles would make snide comments.

However, you had gained the respect of some of the visiting northerners. Young Sansa and Arya also hated the political pleasantries of the south and were more than happy to see nobility squirm. 

They didn’t like it when you flirted with married or engaged nobles, but you can’t win them all. (You’re the child of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister, of course you’d have a terrible personality).

If your father did any of this on purpose, you could see the fun. 

Step two was well underway, when you then hit a block.

What noble were you supposed to steal? Your own options were limited, unless you wanted to men who could be as old as your own father.

You settled on Loras Tyrell, he was young, good looking enough and you'd heard of his bedfellows, or lack thereof of female company. It'd be perfect, create a scandal without actually having to bear some man's child and he could finally shake off some of his own rumours. It was a matter of getting him to agree.

When you'd informed Littlefinger of your choice and plan, he smiled so sweetly that you would never had guessed something was wrong. He was of no help this time though, you assumed perhaps this was as far as your relationship went. You thanked him for his support thus far and agreed to pay him back bountifully if his plan worked. 

When you'd approached Loras, he was shining in the sun at the latest tournament. He'd done so well in the tournament so far, he was talented. You can see why women and men were so taken with him. You could also see your accomplice, Littlefinger himself sat in the stalls becoming cosy with the Stark girl. Ah, that’s where he was. 

"Your highness, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"The pleasure is all mine, would you be able to take me to my tent, good ser? I seem to have lost my way."

It was a load of crap, but he agreed nonetheless. He looked curious, if not bored. 

When you'd propositioned a deal, he rejected at first. He was a Tyrell, what could he possibly benefit from you?

"Oh? That's a shame, and here I thought we'd get along so well. You seem to with my uncle..."

The moment Renly was mentioned, he started stuttering like a fool and you know you had him.

He didn't leave your tent that night. Nothing of excitement happened, sadly, he was ‘loyal’ to your uncle it would seem. 

It caused a larger stir than you’d hoped for. Too large, unfortunately, as it placed you between your grandfather and father.

“I hoped you’d do better my gradndaughter, this endangers your marriage to Dorne. Loras Tyrell will not wed you.” He was so disappointed to have lost such a useful piece, such a shame. 

“I apologise, grandfather. I wasn’t aware we were family again”

Your father snickered, and you knew you were safe. 

“You’re a Baratheon, no one dares stand against the king or his children, as long as my daughter is happy, she can fuck who she wants.”

Your heart swelled. He was your father, no amount of drinking would take that title from him. 

The wedding was called off, the Dornish couldn’t have a princess who they couldn’t ruin. So they betrothed Myrcella instead. For good measure, she’d been sent to Dorne as a ward until her wedding day. They’d already lost one candidate after all. 

Your mother’s beautiful face looked like that of a snake, ready to wring your neck, you could see that much. Thankfully she couldn’t touch you with your fathers protection. 

But, that only lasted as long as he did. 

He died. 

No warnings, he came home injured from a hunt, and then lay on his bed for the last time.  

He spoke his last words to Joffrey.

No matter how much he claimed to care about you, you were a fool to think he’d let you ascend him. Or even Tommen. That tyrant was going to make your life hell soon, and you were ready to lose it.

That’s when you realised, you had never actually used a brothel’s services despite being a frequent visitor. But there was a first for everything. 

“Princess, you’re in mourning”, Littlefinger spoke with such softness that you were convinced that he was the best liar in King’s Landing. 

“Are you always this astute, or are you feeling particularly clever today?”

He smiled, you had never wanted to claw it off of his face as much as you did today. 

“Sharp tongue as always princess, shame you haven’t made much use of it until now.”

“Oh I’ll be sure to use it soon, Baelish, I’m in a whorehouse, not the castle.”

“I don’t doubt you’ll be using it soon, but I was hoping to offer my condolences.”

“What more could you offer me Baelish? I’m already in your debt.”

A Lannister pays her debts, as much as you hated it, you were already in his.

He took your hand, tugging it towards him. He unclenched your fingers which you hadn’t realised had dug into your skin, and placed a soft kiss atop your hand. 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to comfort you in my own way. And... put that tongue to use myself.” His eyes gleamed and you wondered how long he had been preparing for this moment. 

You should’ve said no, berated him, screamed at him. But you didn’t. You were too tired, too sad. You’d gained an inch, to have lost the mile. Your life is in the hands of your mother now. This would be your last act of rebellion. 

You let him pull you to the a room across his office, your guards were given rooms of their own, services complimentary of the owner. 

His mouth tasted like a fine aged wine, and the grip on your waist felt so comforting yet set your skin on fire. 

He held your hand tightly as he laid you on his bed, tighter so when he had fucked you too. You had to give him credit, for a few moments you had completely forgotten your grief and he most definitely put your tongue to good use. 

When you awoke, you were surprised to him still with you, though you were always a late riser, you hadn’t expected him to sleep in either. 

“Is this a debt paid or a debt taken?” You ask, your voice hoarse and dry. You could feel your muscles ache and areas sore, but the best soreness you’d felt in months. 

He stirred before he lazily opened his eyes. You never paid attention to their unique grey-green colouring. 

“I’m still collecting.” He smirked again, but this one didn’t anger you as it should’ve. 

“Still? Can your old bones manage?” You joked, his age didn’t show, but all men were sensitive about their age. 

He didn’t miss a beat, “Of course, unless it’s too much for the princess.”

You took the initiative this time, and wasted no time to crawl under the blankets to show him the tricks you’d learned the night before. 

When you returned to the castle late into the evening, marks on your neck, with a certain glow to your skin, everyone knew exactly where you were and what you were up to.

Your mother didn’t hesitate to slap you so hard that her nails scratched your cheek, drawing blood. Joffrey laughed as he played with his crossbow, while Tommen flinched, yet stayed silent. 

“You better pray that you are with child or so help me, I will burn his whorehouses myself.”

You wondered when she became religious, as you’d missed your moonblood twice. Your mother had yet to notice as you simply left drops of blood among your sheets, a sore but necessary cut on your thigh was enough to stave off her suspicions. 

But when you told Littlefinger himself, he was still. His mouth twitched, to you he appeared very very pleased with himself. 

“I know it’s not the news you wanted to hear but-”

“No, no. This is a pleasant surprise.”

“What?”

“I was hoping you were coming back to pay a debt, but I see you’ve paid in full.”

“Really? Because I feel I’ve deeper debt with your bastard.” 

He reassured you, he was in your debt. During your brothers wedding he whisks you away with him on a ship, joined by Sansa. You know exactly what this looks like. 

You come to wonder how you could’ve possibly fallen from the princess of a proud king, to the mistress of a man to be married, now being ferried to his wedding with another pretty bird who, no doubt, also has his interest. 

It couldn’t get worse, you thought. It can’t.

“Would you kill me, my love?” You’d spoken into the air. You felt Kanon freeze, and saw his pale eyes flooding with something akin to fear as he looked behind you. 

“Excuse you?” Schneizel’s warm voice bellowed behind you. He shuffled you around to face him, his fingers digging into your waist. “Repeat that.”

It wasn’t a request. So you did as he said.

He looked scandalised to say the least. 

“This is the first time you call me something other than your highness, and it's to ask for-” Suddenly as if something clicks, his eyes turn murderous. 

“You should know that the answer is no,” his eyes flash behind you, their anger not subsiding once. “And that the only person you should address as your love is me.”

Now, you were confused. 

Weren’t you just a toy? You threw in ‘my love’ for good measure, but you thought you were nothing but an extra piece in their nightly activities. One that they couldn’t afford to let slip. You were a willing participant to begin with, sure, even knowing that they both already had each other. 

But down the line you stopped getting a choice. Now that you were participated in by both parties, at times, against your will, with the soreness of your lower half not letting you forget that, you thought your use would expire once they grew bored.

You felt Kanon gently slide you back to him. You didn’t flinch anymore with their unsolicited affections. You had a strange bias towards Kanon anyway, maybe its because he cozied up to you first. Tricked you first.

But you felt loved. Even cared for. You felt so happy, being loved by two men who you thought adored you. If only you could ignore the invisible noose around your neck, tightening with every second.

You had seen too much. Heard too much. You knew their plans for the nuclear warheads, knew how many lives they were willing to risk. And now, you can never leave their sides. 

“I am your first. Remember that, dear.” Schneizel bellowed, not liking the small distance between you, he moved closer. “You will love me first.”

He pressed his lips against yours, with so much force that teeth clashed and you were being pushed into Kanon behind you. 

With a firm grip on your thigh, he lifted it and held it above his own hip, pulling you towards him. His other hand gripped the back of your neck as he kissed down the column of your throat. 

“Schneizel- Your highness-” He bit into your shoulder, not liking that you’d changed what you’d called him, “m-my love.”

He hummed in agreement, it almost sounded like a purr. 

“Do you love me?” It’s all you could ask, too lost trying to keep up with the sensations as Kanon started to join in, his hands reaching down and stroking you oh so slightly, preparing you. It seems he knew what was coming next.

“I do.” It sounded like he was stating the obvious. “And I will show you.”

Kanon removed his hand and you could feel Schneizel fill you. You couldn’t hold back your whimpers as he stretched you out, and his focused gaze on your face only made it worse. It hurt but it was like an arrow laced with honey, piercing yet so sweet.

Turning to lie on his back, you were placed on top of him and you sank all the way down onto him, unable to keep yourself from gripping the bedsheets either side of him as you felt pleasure wash through you. 

“You will be the only woman to ever bear my child.” He spoke with finality and strange warmth as he began thrusting up to you. Rough palms held your hips firmly above his and you could feel his eagerness as he smirked up at you. 

“The only one to receive me. You are my future, dear.” His eyes look up at you so fondly that you almost start to believe him. “Our future.” 

With a few sharp thrusts deep into you, you couldn’t help but moan. 

Your future? Here?

Against your better judgement, you lean down to kiss him, letting yourself go even a little bit. 

Perhaps. Perhaps you should resign to it. To him. No, no, escape is a good idea, enjoying this is bad-

When you felt him speed up, the bad idea started to turn into a good one, and you couldn't help matching his thrusts. Perhaps you were more far gone than you thought. Weaker than you thought-

That thought left you as soon as he started hitting a certain spot deep inside you. He was too good, he knew you too well.

You could barely think straight by the time you reached your peak, your back arched and all you could feel was him. 

You heard his grunt before you felt him spill over inside you. Leaning down, breathless, you tucked your head next to his in a rare display of affection. 

“Our future.” You whispered. A child. With his hair, your eyes and perhaps brimming with the stubbornness you once held. Perhaps there was one thing that could be sweeter than death.

He kissed your temple, not caring for the sweat that accumulated on it. 

“Ours.” 

Kanon Maldini (Extra)

He saw you first.

He was the one who spoke to you first, shared a drink with you first. He even tasted you first. 

It started off as a quick friendship, one that soon developed into an affair. Short chats turned into long discussions and before you know it, the two of you were sharing moments in dark corners and away from prying eyes. 

How Kanon loved the sound of your voice as it called for him, or when you spoke excitedly about your work. Your small habits, the twinkle in your eyes when you spoke, the way you looked when in the throes of pleasure were all so enthralling. 

He liked having someone to monopolise for his own. He could never truly have Schneizel, knowing full well that he’d use marriage for political reasons if he ever married. But he didn’t like lying to Schneizel.

So when he introduced you to him and saw a familiar spark in his eyes, he knew things would change.

Kanon didn’t mind sharing, after all, he loved both Schneizel and his love very much. He was elated when he heard ‘my love’ come from their lips, directed at him. If he was quick enough to react he would’ve kissed you, but Schneizel got to you first. 

The anger was expected, he didn’t like what he’d heard before ‘my love’ either but they all knew it wasn't going to happen, so why make a big deal out of it?

He himself reached around your hips to pull you closer to him, your warmth being all that more delightful on his skin knowing that you still loved him. Even if you deny it, even if you resist, that love never left you. 

For once though, he couldn’t bring himself to listen to Schneizel. You were to love him first? He loved you and you loved him, before you loved Schneizel. There was no changing that order. 

He wanted you to carry his child? First? Now that was outrageous.

No matter. Kanon expected Schneizel would become possessive at some point. So, he made sure that you would already be expecting his child, before they were even introduced.

Not that you knew. You would soon, but you’d accept it, as quickly as you had accepted your new life. You love him, after all. 

Schneizel wouldn’t mind, he was sure. It was to be expected that you’d bear one of their children eventually with all their activities together. But he’d let Schneizel try nonetheless.  

You stiffen, your ankles feeling tighter in their jewelled holds, your legs feeling much more jittery against the fine silk of your bedsheets.

"...then who?" Your voice is weak, after not having used it for so long.

He laughs this time, so light, so full. You wouldn't think he was laughing at someone else's death.

"Anyone. If that's what it would take to remind you-" a smooth hand curls around your neck, "that you are mine."

You don't fight him and he relishes in his hold over you, your submission. You've long since learned that he will never apply too much pressure if you stay still, instead becoming accustomed to the warmth his palm spreads around your neck.

"Now, my love. Who put those ideas in your head?" His face holds a perfect smile, but you know better than that. "That dying is better than being here, with me?"

He gestures to your opulent room, gold gilded the frames of every piece of furniture, you had a stocked kitchenette, an en suite, even a TV and laptop with access to the outside world. You had everything you needed to survive. But you didn't have freedom.

The doors only opened for Lelouch, your activity monitored and limited by Lelouch, every piece of clothing lovingly selected by Lelouch. Even now you could walk the perimeter of your small home, but the jingle of the chain around your ankle never let you forget that your life was lost long ago, even if you still breathe.

But you didn't say a word, simply looking at him. When he had first 'relocated' you, for your safety of course, you believed every lie. Followed every rule. And yet, he only got worse.

It was a shame really. You had loved him once, when you were children. You had hoped that the glowing boy of his youth was in there, somewhere, when he returned to the capital to usurp the throne. The frail genius became an emperor.

You were one of the few nobles who didn't fight his rule. You revelled in it even, tired of watching the world suffer at the hands of your brethren, angry at how they treated their own. He worked to tear down the work of his forefathers, which hurt your inner Britannian but your heart sang, knowing that those tyrants would lose their life’s work to flames set by their own blood.

He was on a roll, so it was surprising when he had proposed that you help him secure his rule by becoming the imperial consort. You were sure that that role would fall to his beautiful green haired companion. But he claimed that he needed you for this, that you were the key to peace. You hesitated, naturally, none of it made sense. But when you spent more time with him, joined him for strolls, dinners, meetings, you understood. 

“You are perfect. Let no one question that.” He said. You felt warm, and you almost listened.

When he slipped the ring on your hand late one banquet, leaving a longing kiss on its place in your finger he whispered “Let no one question the future queen.” 

And this time you believed him.

Now here you are, suffering the consequences of your naivete.

You looked up at the frustratingly handsome face of the current emperor, the man who trapped you so sweetly, the one you cannot help but to care for.

He seemed to have expected your silence. He continued to speak with a curl on his lips as you felt the heat from his hands slide from your neck to both your cheeks to hold your stare to his. All you could see was him.

"No matter. I know a way to ensure I am your only choice. Though I'd preferred for you to love me on your own."

Again, no response. Just a despaired look passing from your eyes to his.

"I, Lelouch vi Britannia, command you, to love only me." His voice is strangely soft as his eyes begin to glow a light pink and suddenly you feel something you've long tried to supress.

"...Lelouch." You sighed out his name, liking how it sounded.

"Yes, dearest?" He smiled, genuinely this time.

Your hands cup around his face, moving closer to him. "Lelouch, I-"

You stopped, flinching. Even he looked suprised. No, this isn't-

"Dearest?" His voice was so warm and gentle on your ears. A part of you giddy that it was towards you. You feel what little grasp you have slip-

-That's right, this is perfect. What was I thinking? He's my love.

Warmth flooded you. Of course, how could you forget?

With no hesitation this time, you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I love you."

Lelouch beamed.

.

Suzaku Kururugi

It was a line you’d heard somewhere, corny but it stuck with you. You wanted to taste how it sounded, nothing serious. Though, it would’ve been better if Suzaku hadn’t just stumbled through the doorway.

He returns to his home in the 11's district, ready to start dinner, only to hear you ask him to kill you? You’d be stupid to think he wouldn’t overreact.

The door slammed shut behind him with a thud, his face draining of colour so quickly.

"What? What makes you think I'd ever do that? That's the last thing I-"

He panics, dropping the bags of food on the floor. He rushes to you, sat up against the bed, a bandage wrapped around your head. He looks you over, thinking you'd tried to hurt yourself. But his fear is replaced with something much more sombre when he sees you're free of injury.

"Is that what you think of me? That I'd kill you because we have a- a hiccup?"

He calls kidnap a hiccup?

He clenches his fists, he seems to struggle to look at you.

"Is this about what happened with Euphie? You think that dying is the only way to get my attention?"

God, not this inane bullshit again. He was convinced that you were jealous of a dead girl. Once upon a time you were worried that he'd never let her go, that you would always be second to a ghost. And now, you wished that that was the case.

"Because you dont need to, damn it. You just need to ask, I'd give you everything if you asked!"

"So you'd kill-"

He slaps his hand over your mouth, infuriated that you'd ask again. It almost stung as much as the wound on your head that you got trying to fight him off when he took you.

"No. I couldn't, that's the only thing I could never give you. I'm sorry." He wasn't sorry, and it was starting to piss you off.

"Just stop." You almost growl beneath his palm, so tired of putting up with him. "Suzaku, I can’t live like this, not here, not with you-"

"YOU DON'T MEAN THAT!"

His shout surprises you, banging your head against the headboard that you're pressed against. 

His fist punches into the wall behind your head and for the first time, you're sacred that he might deliberately hurt you.

"...you don't mean that."

His voice his weaker this time and you seem to have completely lost yours.

"You don't. I know it." He said to himself under his breath, seemingly trying to convince himself.

"We're all we have left, from the beginning its always been us. I was an idiot but I'm fixing it. And then I'll bring our home back."

"Suzaku-"

"I know I'm not good enough for you, I know that. But I will be. Once I become viceroy, I'll fix it all."

"Suzaku, I know you're trying but you didn't need to do this. " You say, gesturing to the now highly secure apartment. "I dont want to be trapped-"

"You're not! We'll leave eventually but not right now. It's not safe, you know that.” He has a stern look in his green eyes, one that reminds you of his father. “ It’s not safe, let me protect you.”

The dull ache in your head reminded you not to trust him, no matter how much he pleaded. You had loved him, yes. But you couldn’t forgive this. 

He looks up at you with a tired, longing look before he sighs. Resting his head on your shoulder he wraps an arm around your waist to hold you close.

“Please.” He begged, and your heart ached. “I can’t do it without you.”

Oh Suzaku. You reach up to stroke his back. You couldn’t forgive him, but that didn’t stop you from feeling hurt, seeing him like this.

“I know you love me.” 

He pulls back, his eyes a little more dull than before and this raises alarms.

“I know you love me, so don’t lie like that ever again.” He spat. He leans his forehead against yours, staring deep into your eyes.

“Don’t make me do something I’ll really regret, okay?” The grip he had on your waist tightened and the increased pressure of his head against your injured one reminded you- 

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