DirkRose Kingdomstuck you say? 🤔
Yea, I do like DirkRose mindgames. :] Ye olde Strilonde incest. In their youth there was a devastating attack on the royal family that forced Dirk and Rose to marry and take the throne after their late parents. Dirk is left severely traumatized, Rose is sickly and thinks she's cursed by something otherworldly, Dave gets knighted and tries his best to keep his remaining family safe (and has a secret love affair with Rose) and Roxy is presumed dead. Yay! 🙌
There's a sharp knock on your chamber door. You barely get to voice your invitation before your visitor already barges in. It's His Majesty, or as you prefer him, Dirk. He's still fully dressed, so this is an official visit.
"Good evening, my Queen," he greets you.
"Good evening, my brother," you answer and can see his gaze sharpen. You know your smart mouth enrages him, but you cannot help your sly nature.
"What brings you to my chambers at this hour?" You know exactly what he wants, but you nonchalantly continue your embroidery work anyway.
He knows it's an empty question, so he doesn't even bother with an answer. "You shouldn't strain your eyes like this, it's not good for your health," he says instead, faux-concerned, while crossing the distace between you and shrugging off his heavy cape. You think of him distinctly like a stalking predator, eager to sink his teeth in your flesh. You won't show fear in the face of danger. You couldn't run if you wanted to, so you stand your ground. Dirk sets his hand on the back of your armchair and leans over you. You don't lift your gaze off your work.
"Quite lovely," he notes. "Are those the bluebells from our garden?"
"Mm-hm," you hum and try to keep your needle steady despite his proximity. He stays silent, observing. You hope he can't see the goosebumps raising along your shoulders. Tugging your nightgown up now would betray weakness on your part, so you refrain.
It wasn't always like this. Ever since the tragic loss of your family and taking on the mantle of the rightful ruler as the eldest son, he has changed. Gone is the young, idealistic prince. Your sweet little brother has grown cruel and unstable. You can still remember his wide, frightened eyes on the day of his crowning and on the day of your wedding. Both times you reassured him that it'll be alright. You haven't seen that look on his face in years.
Dirk puts his hand on your arm and you can't help flinching. He clicks his tongue, irritated. "Can't I touch my own wife?"
You don't feel as much a wife as you feel like a thorn that gets under his skin. "...your hands are cold," you say. Both of you know it's a lie, his hands are burning hot even through the thin cotton. It's your skin that's ice cold. Still, Dirk understands to withdraw.
"Sorry, should I warm by the fire first?"
"It would be most welcome."
