#royal reader

You were never meant to be the next ruler of this kingdom, with all the responsibilities that came with being the head of the empire also came with a lot of expectation, one particularly was the one that gave you the most headaches

children.

you were expected to have multiple children ideally with different people to make political alliances and join new lands into your territory.

and a couple people were more than eager to bear them.

kalos the knight

Kalos was your friend, Was.

He was a trainee for the royal guard, he was an extraordinary strategist but lacked a lot of physical strength due to an illness he had.

you two met as kids bonding over a book you were reading, he used to pretend to be the knight in your stories and made promises of saving you when the time comes. You never meant to make him join your harem, you only suggested it when you found out that as a consort he would be able to join war meetings and go up the ranks as a knight.

it was a simple plan really, one with not much thinking behind it, he would get to use his brain as a war strategist and you had the excuse of starting a harem with somebody you had no interest in touching you or you touching them.

That was until in one of your personal tea parties kalos came dressed in silky clothing, one that showed his chest and shoulders. He put make -up on that day to accentuate his beautiful eyes and keep playing with your hair and trying to make excuses to touch you, after all you were so very tired of being a ruler and he was so very capable with his hands after all.

you understood too late that his devotion as a knight was not to the crown but to you

Bella the scholar

Bella had once been the apprentice of your father's most trusted advisor. After his passing, she inherited both his position and, much to her dismay, the responsibility of advising you. She often claimed she'd much rather spend her days tending to plants than attending council meetings, yet somehow she always managed to have the answer to every problem placed before the throne.

For a scholar, Bella looked nothing like the stories described. There were no flowing silk gowns or delicate gloves hiding ink-stained fingers. She favored practical tunics and sturdy boots, clothes that could survive crawling through forests or kneeling in muddy garden beds. Her hands were rough, littered with tiny cuts, calluses, and dirt permanently lodged beneath her nail,a testament to countless hours spent cultivating rare herbs and studying botany.

Rumor had it she could outlift half the royal knights, and after watching her haul sacks of soil across the palace gardens without breaking a sweat, you were inclined to believe it. She had little patience for etiquette, even less for nobles who mistook appearance for competence. More than one arrogant lord had learned the hard way that the woman they dismissed as a mere gardener possessed both a sharper mind and a stronger punch than they did.

Bella joined the harem by a dirty trick she pulled on you, the way you spend countless sleepless nights trying to solve problems for your people charmed her heart very quickly. One day while having some tea in her chambers you found that this new brew she prepared was specially sweet.

the next thing you knew was that you were passed out on her bed.

according to her you were just so sleepy and so vulnerable that she just let you sleep on her bed for the night.

After all, if any noble or servant saw their ruler in that state, they would talk and talk and that could harm your reputation.

oh but the implications of spending the night in another’s one chambers was so scandalous!

and thus she became part I of your harem as a “cover up”.

is not like she has been planning for months no, that would be foolish

Midas the foreigner

Midas was the only one that was disgusted to join the harem at first, he was more or less a gift sent by their parents to promote good relationships between lands.

When you two meet he was disgusted by you, not that he found you ugly or unattractive but that the thought of somebody using people for pleasure the same way one would use a new shirt everyday makes him feel inhuman.

he was very surprised when you made the statement of having not intention of touching them. A wave of relief washed over them, but only followed by skepticism, this must be a dirty trick to make them lower their guard, well news flash is not gonna happened.

they didn’t lower their guard for the first two weeks, even when you offer pastries and books about music that he adored so much.

Even when you got him his very own arp to perform in front of a banquet of people, something he's been dreaming of since he was a child. He didn’t lower his guard.

even when he tried so hard to convince himself that the ache in his heart and pant was not because he caught a whiff of your perfume.

when he finally lower his guard, full expecting you to take him, he got offended by you not doing anything.

not offended at YOU exactly. Maybe you were just too shy?

what if he wasn’t beautiful enough?, he was selected for you rather than his sibling, then why. Won’t. You. Take.him

he was breathtaking in any sense of the world

he could be more beautiful, he could be stunning he could be whatever you want him to be

The cold stone of the castle on your bare feet only served to quicken your steps. You knew the way to Zevor's chambers by heart, though it felt like a lifetime since you had last made the journey. Already you were making an effort to steady yourself against the sting of fresh tears. You marveled bitterly at yourself. At how foolish you had been. 

The two of you had spoken about it before, mostly in jest, the best way to get out of a marriage. Perhaps for Zevlor to kidnap you or if faking a fatal attack would serve a better plan. 

 “I just think the kidnapping’s more dramatic.” You remembered whispering in the darkness of his small tent. Your whole body had been pressed to Zevlor’s, you both barely fitting on his bedroll. Though you often found yourselves bound tightly together even in your massive bed. “It’s a more satisfying ending. Who would think such a respected, honorable knight capable of such betrayal? Finally revenge against the king who wronged him.” 

“It’s always the quiet ones, or so they say.” Zevlor laughed. “But I’m not too keen on vengeance.” 

“He doesn’t treat you like the others. Anyone could see it. Gods, the titles, the land he’s thrown at men not worth a tenth of what-” 

“Hush.” Zevlor kissed you. “ At this moment I have all I need.” 

Neither of you were fools. As much of a soft spot you held for the old romances you understood what being a noblewoman meant. Marrying below your station-  a tiefling at that- was completely out of the question. You had gone into it telling yourself the tryst with the knight would be a temporary fling. Of course that didn’t happen.   

Falling for Zevlor wasn't something planned. Instantly the tiefling had caught your eye and before you could stop yourself you began a long, slow descent which ended in all consuming need. Lingering glances turned to kind words to whispered flirtation to long nights spent making love. Neither of you thought it would go this far. You would have laughed if your heart wasn't so grieved. How sensible you thought you were. If you couldn't marry for love why not indulge in silly affairs? It seemed easy and carefree. Until you could no longer put off the marriage. Until more and more time passed without an excuse to see each other. Until you were crying yourself to sleep at the thought of sharing your bed with anyone else. 

The separation was worse than you had even imagined. After your marriage you had planned to stop the affair. Much like every other attempt, you and your knight had failed miserably. You wanted to run, to convenience Zevlor to actually run away with you. But how could you ask him to give up so much? In the brief moments you could be in his arms again you’d end up in tears. Both you were heavy with the despair that hung over you.

Zevlor, despite his mastery of the sword and cunning battle strategies was a kind man with a gentle heart. He spoke no words of his pain, but it was clear to you. The brief moments you had seen him he was not himself. There was a joylessness to his demeanor which shook you. He was a busy man who had been well acquainted with suffering and you would have given your very soul to ease his grief. You couldn't say if he was better off without you or not.

 To complicate matters farther, tensions were high in the kingdom were rising after a riot leading to a number of tiefings being wanted for treason. Some had gone willingly and others were still wanted. The plague of stupidity seemed to spread daily and more and more people started to believe tieflings were the cause of all the kingdom's woes and called for their removal or worse. Many had been thrown from their homes, been victims of attacks, others had left on their own, some refused to leave on principle. You were desperate to know how Zevlor was holding up, to know if he was truly safe.

 You had barely seen him of late and were sure he was distancing himself or had forgotten you all together. You were sick with heartache but you could not blame him. You kept mostly to your chambers and did your little useless duties all while pushing away your sadness though it felt unending. Even seeing the warm smile of the man you loved as you passed wordlessly in the halls was taken from you. 

Days of not speaking turned to weeks. You sank thoroughly into hopelessness when you received the news. The court physician found the source of your recent ailment: You were with child.    

You could no longer tell if you were shaking from fear or the late autumn winds slipping through the drafty halls. You focused on your heart beat, how loudly it drummed in your chest. You just had to keep going. There was no choice anymore. 

To your great shock your journey was cut short as you rounded the corner and froze as a new wave of sickness strickening you to the spot.

It was Zevlor. He also stopped in his tracks and stared, his fiery eyes wide, looking just as much like a frightened animal as you felt. He was perfectly disheveled. He was unshaven, his hair loose and long and his white sleep shirt scarcely done up, revealing an eye full of his chest. He was painfully handsome as he always was. His sudden closeness, the sudden longing that moved through you made you stumble backward.

Zevlor had only uttered your name-breathed it like a sigh of relief- that was all it took to send you bursting into tears. At the embarrassment, the shame, of the whole situation and of how pathetic you must appear to him now.

His arms were around you, keeping you steady before you even realized you were losing balance. As much as you tried to choke out the words you could not form them. Only sob like a fool. Gently Zevlor moved with you, ushering you back to his chambers.

"Sit down. Just try to take a deep breath." Zevlor pleaded.

You gave in, unsure why you had refused in the first place. As many times as you had staged this in your mind you had never been sitting. Then again you had already gone a much different route than you had hoped. Gingerly taking a seat on Zevlor's bed you tried to steady yourself and slow your breathing. Still your throat felt tight and burned into protest. It wasn't easy to be back there. Like all things that reminded you of your favourite knight, his bed chamber brought you a strange mix of heartache and joy. The space was humble and practical just like the man himself. It was one of the few rooms in the castle that felt like home.

"Take your time, please." Zevlor studied you already trying to fix the problem without even knowing it. He stayed standing, milling about lighting candles and tidying up. He looked ready to jump to action should you need it. Gods, you missed him.

"Do you need a doctor?"

You shook your head.

“You’re sure?” Zevlor pressed. “Have some water at least.” 

You were happy to take it, anything to delay speaking. The tiefling did not join you on the bed- which both hurt and left you thankful- rather he stayed standing at a good distance, his eyes as weary as a lost dog. 

“I can’t do this.” you gasped, still unsure of how to start. “I have to leave, I can’t do it and be here- I just- I have to leave and-” 

“Breathe.” Zevlor reminded you, his brows drawn together with concern. “It’s alright, just slow down a bit.” 

“I don’t have time!” You blurted out, hot tears staining your eyes again. “I need to leave and I need your help. I don’t care where I go or if I'm poor I just need to be far away as soon as possible.” 

Frustration boiled in your chest as he looked at you quizzically. You might be able to handle concern but pity was too gutting.

“You don’t understand.” You stood too quickly and brought a rush of dizziness to your head. You all but ripped off your robe and threw it to the floor. Your nightdress hugged your figure making your swollen breast and the small bump at your stomach impossible to miss. 

 “I’m pregnant.” You all but whispered. 

 Zevlor said nothing, the silent pricing you like an arrow. You had not expected happiness but the look of grief that moved over his face was unbearable. Fearing your stability you sank back onto the bed as he turned away. A sob escaped your lips as Zevlor retrieved a blanket and handed it to you his eyes firmly fixed anywhere you weren't. 

“Zevlor, please.” you cried, taking it. How many times had he wrapped his surcoats and capes around you with such care? 

“You’re shivering.” He replied stiffly. “You’ll be alright. It’s normal to be-” 

“I won’t! Listen to me.” You pleaded.

The knight took a shaking breath and nodded, turning to face you. His lips pressed tightly as his gaze kept to the floor. 

You followed suit and lowered your eyes as you spoke in the flurry, afraid to lose your nerve. 

“I’ve thought about this and I have made up my mind. I want this baby but I can’t have them here. Not in a place like this. I don’t need anything from- Or I need your help to get there or find the best way to go.”

“Why?” Zevlor interjected. “My lady, I understand you’re distressed but this is certainly not the answer. As much as you dislike the court and your lord, you can’t possibly think-” 

“I have no choice!” you screech. “If there’s any change of my babe having a good life-”

“But a life on the run? A runaway bride is one thing but a missing child?” Zevlor shook his head. “Surely your lord will try to reclaim them.” 

“It’s not his!” you squeak in a small voice. Your knight’s glassy eyes shoot to yours as if you’d delivered a fatal blow. You were almost amused by his misunderstanding. As clearly as you could, you spoke again. “It’s yours, Zevlor.” 

A gasp left his lips, half way between a laugh and a sob. 

“I- what?” he shook his head, fighting for words. There was an unnamable pain on his face that all but broke your heart. “Are you certain? I’m sorry! Not to sound- I just- that is, I would have thought-” 

You laughed bitterly. 

“I was a bit of a disappointment to my dear lord on our wedding night. He’s not shown much interest in me since.” 

“I see.” Zevlor uttered, sounding a thousand miles away. 

“I can’t have them here. There’s no hiding it and the way things are right now.” you drew the blanket tighter around you. “I can’t even think about it. I don’t know what they'd do.” 

“No.” Zevlor spoke softly. “You can’t stay here.” 

After a long pause the tiefling moved slowly, kneeling before you and gazing up at you like he was about to pray for penance. “What would you like to do?”

“Tieflings are leaving aren’t they? Even the ones that aren’t wanted.” You spoke, wiping your eyes. “And you know how people talk, there’s a rumor about a few knights helping to smuggle them to safety. I couldn’t help but think if I could find a knight so brave and noble I could sneak out with them.” you paused watching the corners of Zevlor’s mouth twitch momentarily into a knowing smile. Suddenly your heart was pounding at the simple motion. You’d give up every bit of riches you had to kiss those lips again. 

“I just need to get out of the kingdom and to know where to go. I don’t need anything else from you. I have gold hidden away, I just need to get there and I promise you’ll  never hear from us again. I don’t want to make this-” 

“Please.” Zevlor all but lungled forward and gripped your hands tighter than he ever had. For a moment he snapped his eyes close against the quickly forming tears but soon let them fall as he spoke, his voice low and trembling. “I am not a perfect man, I have much I’m not worthy of and now I’ve complicated your life irrevocably. For that I apologize. But never doubt that my love for you and this child is unshakable and if you’ll still have me, let us go together. My heart, let me be by your side. Let me-” 

You cut him off with a string of loud sobs as you threw yourself in his arm. Zevlor held you tight letting  you cry into his shoulder as he peppered your hair with kisses.

 “Gods above,” Zevlor’s voice was thick with emotion. “I thought I’d never hold you again.”   

“I love you.” you repeated over and over as your breathing finally began to calm. You breathed deeply taking in your lover’s familiar scent. Trying to make certain of the happiness that was budding in you. 

 “Were you thinking you’d leave? Before this?” You pulled away as much as Zevlor's firm grasp would let you. “I just- I don't want you to walk away from everything because of me.”  

 You needed his honesty more than anything. 

Zevlor laughed sweetly and lightly kissed both your cheeks before pressing his warm lips to yours. 

 “I’ve lost things in the past. A home, a title. Those are replaceable. You are not.”

 He took your hand and pressed it over his heart. You delighted in feeling the familiar pattern of ridges through the thin fabric of his shirt.

 “Once I made an oath that I would protect you from all harm until my dying breath. Nothing would make me happier than to honor it.”      

You stayed curled into his chest overwhelmed and overjoyed. Zevlor held you close, running his large hand up and down your back as he debated- mostly with himself- what the best course of action would be.Eventually he picked you up with ease and gently sat you on the bed. Again he busied himself, searching through the papers on his shabby desk and pausing to add to his notes. 

“I think I have it.” He announced after a while. “I’ve had help from a few local merchants, one of them a blacksmith. He’s an honorable tiefling and also looking for safe departure. I had hoped to accompany him to guard him and his ‘wears’ to a market just outside the city. There’s only meant to be two small families with him, I can’t imagine another body could hurt anything.”        

“That’s perfect.” You sighed a fresh spark of excitement coursing through your chest. Something that felt so far away that same day was now so closer than you ever thought possible. “Gods, you’re incredible.” 

 “I’ll go to him first thing in the morning, see how fast we can pull things together.”  Zevlor scratched away at his list. 

 Watching him, the curve of his broad shoulders as he leaned over the desk, the way his loose hair framed the angels of his face, sent a sudden burst of blush to your cheeks. Your desire had only intensified as your body began to change. In your depressive state you had become used to the heavy ache between your legs going unrelieved. Feeling Zevlor so close once again brought it back with the dizzying might. You needed him, his warmth, more than your next breath. 

 “Zevlor?”  You moved to his side like a moth to the fire, in awe of his beauty. 

You ran your hands slowly down his back and settled them around his waist. He shifted as he was pulled back for the web of possibilities thundering through his mind. It wasn’t long before Zevlor abandoned his pen.He turned to you, the lines of his face softening as he took you in. The orange light of his infernal eyes stoking the fire in you. Zevlor reached for you but stopped himself, staring at your stomach. Before the question could form on his lips you pressed his hand to your bump.

"Oh," Zevlor let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding as he moved his hand over the thin silk of your nightgown. "The heat of them. This is indeed a teifling child." He laughed, his voice more joyous than you had heard in ages. "I just- I never thought that..."

You silenced his struggle for words with a kiss which he returned with fever. His tongue impatience to reunite with yours pushed into your mouth with ease. Both of you had gone far too long without the other and no words seemed as fitting as an honest display of desire.

Zevlor removed your gown so quickly you couldn’t be sure he didn't just rip it to pieces. Not that you cared by the time you were pushed back onto his bed and laid out like a feast for a starving man. Zevlor's hunger did not disappoint. He was half frantic: caressing, kissing, sucking every piece of flesh he came close to.

To your great relief he nestled his thigh between your legs. You didn't hesitate to press your wet core to the strong muscle and grind against it wantonly. The sudden flood of stimulation along with Zevlor's hot tongue lapping at your swollen nipples was a shock to the system. You had only just begun and already your climax felt on the horizon. 

"Zev." You sighed, unable to stop your hips from bucking against him. "Please, I need you inside." 

"Then you'll have me." He groaned, voice heavy with lust. In seconds Zevlor had you spread open, the fat head of his cock sliding over your folds.

It only took a few desperate whimpers before he entered you with his usual care. You moaned in unison, heads falling back in awe of being together at last. Zevlor moved at a steady rhythm thrusting deep and slow. He had you babbling, drunk on the fullness that only he could give you. 

"You're so beautiful." He groaned, bringing his large hand to caress your breasts and stomach once more. "Always. But seeing you like this. I can hardly stand it."

His pace faulted as he spoke, making your heart flutter. Perhaps he was holding himself back just as you were.

"Have you thought of me like this before? Full of your child?"

Zevlor all but shivered at your words. He paused his eyes wide, searching yours.

"Yes." His hips bucked at the thought as his pace increased. "More than I should  say."

"Tell me. Tell me how you love it." Your voice shook with effort as white hot pressure built within you. "Tell me how you want to keep filling me with your babies. Tell-"

Your words turned into a silence scream as your whole body pulsed, your orgasm surging through you like lightning. Zevlor pressed his whole self against you, his thrusts hard and sporadic. He cried out for you as he filled you with the warmth of his seed. 

With shaking limbs you held him tight with your arms and legs wrapped around him. Not that Zevlor had not a single thought of letting you go. He mapped the path of your jaw and neck with lingering kissing, still reveling in the taste of your skin. 

“I’m going to keep you safe.” Zevlor paused, speaking in earnest. 

You ran your hands across his back, hoping to soothe the tension you could feel building again.

“I know. You always have.” 

Zevlor hummed and returned to showering you with kisses, a smile on his lips.

He was used to faking that sort of thing, choosing every word with purpose to convey exactly what he wanted others to hear, nothing more or less. Most of the time, he could look right through the nobles’ facades to see that they were faking it, too. That’s just how aristocrats conduct themselves: behind a tissue-thin veneer of respectability, barely concealing all those dirty secrets. The stuck-up cronies they surround themselves with are paid well enough to pretend they don’t know the truth. 

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to hate you. 

It wasn’t just that you carried a surface-level sense of basic human decency– plenty of nobles will play nice to your face to curry favor– it was that no matter how he scrutinized you, Lucifer couldn’t find that secret face of corruption that always shows itself sooner or later. 

He watched you like a hawk from day one. He had to memorize your habits, file away mental notes of your preferences, and keep record of any and all details that could be weaponized. There was an unfortunate expectation that, at some point, he’d catch you in the midst of shady dealings or stumble upon the mistreatment of a lowly servant by your hand. No one can behave forever. That feeling of inevitable disappointment hung above him as his sword of Damocles, and when it fell, it would cut free the part of him that harbored any sympathy for noble blood. 

That single thread held fast for far longer than he wanted to come to terms with. 

That moment of impact never came; at least, not like he was anticipating. You found a myriad of other ways to knock the wind out of him without even trying. 

The first time that dark veil he cast over you slipped was when he found you in the gardens. 

You’d been in the presence of each other before, but this was only your second time seeing him up close, and the first encounter in which no third party was present. He knew you often walked the gardens on nice mornings, and when he didn’t find you in your usual indoor spots, he saw the perfect opportunity to fabricate a chance meeting. To you, it would be a coincidence, perhaps even fate. Nobles do love the idea of fate, after all. 

He feigned surprise with a barely audible gasp when he turned the corner of a hedge and came upon you. You turned around to face the noise, and he didn’t miss that twinkle in your eye when you realized who you were looking at. Whatever was holding your attention before was whisked away by the next gust of wind without a second thought. 

“Lucifer!” You called out, stumbling to your feet with evident excitement. “I didn’t expect to see you, of all people, out here.” 

You rushed over to him with more enthusiasm than intended, barely sliding to a stop before you ran into his chest. The little crush you’d developed from afar was so much more obvious than you had realized. 

“What, pray tell, do you mean by that?” Lucifer asked with a practiced undertone of amusement. 

“Oh, nothing at all, really! I just mean… well, aren’t you usually busy with work this early in the day?”

He pretended to ponder your question for a moment, turning his head to gaze out into the trees in feigned thought. It was only a second or two, but he could feel you waiting for his eyes to return to yours. 

“You’re right, I ought to be attending to my duties inside. There was just…”

A measured pause hung in the air for just the right amount of time before he turned to look at you once more. 

“...something calling me out here, I suppose. I often find myself succumbing to such intuitive compulsions.” 

He said it with such a natural grace, with such a quiet assuredness in himself that there was no stopping the rush of warmth that came to your cheeks. 

There’s something of an art to the way he played coy, with just the right amount of polite hesitance to make you feel accomplished when he finally gave in and sat down with you. The two of you talked over the garden table for nearly a quarter of an hour, but he was careful not to let your time together run over; he had work to attend to, of course, but he also had to leave you wanting for more of his attention. It was just long enough to get you hooked, yet not enough to fulfill you in any way that would last. 

He was brief in excusing himself to return to his duties, using only enough words to be respectful before hurrying off. Even without looking back, he knew you were watching him leave. 

The first of many carefully orchestrated encounters had gone off without a hitch. 

It was all a gentle incline from there. Meeting in the gardens became a regular occurrence between the two of you, a silent agreement that you’d both return at the same time to have your weekly tête-à-tête within the privacy of the hedges. You started to see him within the palace more often, as well–he’ll never forget the way you lit up when you spun around to face the man who had so rudely walked right into your shoulder, only to see the ever-so-regretful face of your beloved butler looking back at you. He couldn’t produce so much as a syllable of his rehearsed apology before you beat him to the punch of taking the blame. 

It wasn’t long before you started finding reasons to be together outside of the gardens. He was at your side more often than one so busy should have been, but you were too delighted with his presence to question it. Your topics of conversation extended to gossip, current events, literature, the sort of mundane things that may have tricked a lesser man into feeling like your equal.

 Lucifer knew better than to get comfortable, despite the candid charm you brought to the conversation, and the surprisingly sympathetic insights he never expected a royal to hold. 

He knew better than to even consider that you might see some sort of value in him beyond a tool, even if there was no ignoring the way you looked at him when he spoke, as if you wanted to memorize every word that fell from his lips. 

He knew better. 

It wasn’t unusual for him to perform without consciously deciding to. The agreeable act he put on was second nature to him by now, something he could turn off and on without telling himself to do so. That mask would drop the instant he was alone, though, when he no longer had to face an audience. 

So why, then, did he one day find himself smiling at the library doorway long after you had disappeared through it? 

The realization sent a shiver down his spine. How long had you been talking, anyway? Gods above, he’d forgotten to watch the time! Had he really become so invested in whatever bookish drivel you’d subjected him to that his true intentions were forgotten? Since when were you the first one to leave the conversation?

He took a very long walk around the palace grounds that evening. Even when the dark clouds gathered and threatened rain, he couldn’t bring himself to return. Not even a splash of cold water from the fountain could wash away the shame that clung to him like the smell of an affair on a married man’s sheets. 

No sleep was had by him that night, either. 

It was a miserable time the next day, having to act as though he wasn’t running on fumes after tossing and turning in his turmoil until the sun rose. Even then, he couldn’t shake the doubts lingering in his mind. He’d never been so shaken in all his time working as an assassin, let alone by something as inconsequential as an accidental smile. It wasn’t just the action itself that unsettled him; he came to understand that the formidable anxiety it ignited in the pit of his stomach was far more frightening. 

What an idiot he was to not see what was going on right then. 

The horrible realization that he was truly enjoying his time with you grew heavier on his shoulders with each passing day. What was supposed to be a month-long mission had somehow stretched past two months and was approaching a third with alarming speed. His dagger laid untouched in its sheath for far longer than he was comfortable with, and the crafted lies he was feeding his impatient employer were starting to collapse under the weight of time. 

Yet, he made no move to further his plan. 

He didn’t want to rush to intimacy with you. He hated the idea of treating you as just another job to be over and done with. The idea of dragging his blade across your throat made his stomach churn in a way it never should have. Who had he become, to be so adverse to the violence he built himself on? 

He ought to get it over with. 

That idea echoed in his head ad nauseam. You ought to get it over with. 

He almost listened, too. Restful nights became few and far between, and his best attempt at tiring himself was pacing the castle halls. Without fail, his walks would always lead to the thought of making his way to your room and allowing his dagger to relieve him of his plight. If he could just quiet his troublesome feelings for the mere minute it would take to pick the lock and do the deed, he could disappear into the night with his payment and nary a hint of guilt. 

…Yeah. Right. 

He couldn’t even bring himself to refuse a stroll through the gardens with you. 

Still, he tried to convince himself he was above such petty affections. He’d argue with no one in frustrated whispers, unable to give in to either side of himself despite how badly he longed to. Any bit of relief would be accepted with open arms if it meant he might finally be able to get some sleep. 

Sleep evaded him for many more nights. 

Exhaustion dulled his senses in ways that became too noticeable. He began to avoid you at all costs, both to preserve the persona he’d put on for you and spare himself the agony of weaving more tangled lies. It was an insurmountable risk to his mission, but making a fool of himself in front of you would be just as bad, and a blow to his ego to boot. 

One night, his now routine walk of the palace wasn’t quite as inconspicuous as he’d thought. 

The frustrated whispers had turned into angry mutters, a barely constrained desire to scream at himself for being so stupid. His footsteps were hard and heavy on the marble floors, enough to rattle the porcelain vases when he walked by, shaking with fear in the presence of his bubbling rage. 

“Oh, I do hate you,” he mumbled, “I do hate you…”

Whether he was talking to you or himself was beyond him. It didn’t really matter, anyhow. 

“I do hate you,” he hissed once more, “I hate you for this. Just what am I expected to do here, hm? Roll over like a dog? No, I’d sooner die, and yet, how I long to die in this moment, if you would just–”

“I thought I heard you out here.” 

Lucifer could have jumped out of his skin. 

He turned to see you peeking around the corner, giving him that soft smile he’d come to know so well. It was something of a relief to see it after depriving himself of you for so long. Gods, did he need some relief. 

“Your highness,” he said quickly, straightening himself up as best he could, “did I wake you with my, ah, senseless prattle?”

You gave the slightest giggle at that. “No, no, not at all. I was already awake and couldn’t help but hear you mumbling to yourself. Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” he answered, and in a far more curt manner than he meant to. “Er, I mean… I appreciate you asking, but no, nothing is wrong. It’s just that sleep evades me this night.” 

Just as it has every night before this.

“Looks like we’re in the same boat, then,” you said with a nod. “Truthfully, I haven’t been sleeping well for a while. Must be a change in the weather.” 

That gave him pause. You didn’t have any reason to be losing sleep, at least not like he did. Maybe you wanted to see him just as badly, even if you didn’t realize it, a subconscious longing that implored you to come back to him and kept you from rest…

No, that would be stupid. 

He couldn’t afford to be stupid. 

He must have said nothing for a bit too long, because suddenly, you were close enough to reach out with a gentle hand and grasp his wrist. 

“At least we’re not alone now,” you whispered. 

Lucifer blinked. 

“...Yes, I… I suppose you’re right.”

You led him to your chambers that night. He briefly considered scolding you for such impropriety, but the thought melted away when he crossed the threshold of your bedroom. It was just as lavish as any other royal’s room, but the clothes half-draped over furniture and beloved knick-knacks left wherever you felt like it made it feel so much more lived in. The sterile sort of cleanliness enforced in the rest of the palace gave way to a warm, candlelit cove all your own, a cozy hideaway that you were now inviting him to share. 

He’d never been invited into a noble’s room before. Into bed for a night, sure, and he refused every time, but never for something as mundane as a friendly visit. 

It felt wrong for him to invade your space. He was suddenly quite aware of his own deceit, and a heavy pit settled in his stomach then. You didn’t know half the danger you were in, bringing him into the secluded den that should have been yours alone to enjoy. 

The only time he should have ever seen the inside of your room was the night he killed you.

The first step through the doorway told him he was in too deep, too emotionally invested to hold on to any hope of finishing his mission. Maybe he could still turn things around if he walked out right that second. 

He willed himself to pull his hand free from yours. 

He could not. 

Too dumbfounded by what was happening to voice any protests, he allowed you to sit him down on the edge of your bed before you shuffled off to retrieve a book from your shelf. He can’t even recall the title now, but your starry eyes gazing up at him with such guileless anticipation still flash in his mind when he dares to dream, and your utter enchantment with the story made you glow as he’d never seen before. 

“I have got to tell you about what I’ve been reading,” you practically sang as you took your seat next to him. “I’ve been dying to talk to someone about it.”

If only that were true, he thought to himself. Please, die from your foolish wanting, and make it easy on me. 

You opened the book on your lap, flipping through it in search of whatever it was you so desperately needed to show him. “You’ve read this one, haven’t you? I could have sworn you mentioned it in the library the last time I saw you, the one about the cursed lagoon and the princess trapped therein. It’s a bit childish, I suppose, with such juvenile talk of magic and monsters, but…” 

Lucifer only nodded along without a word. Your voice was fading into a vague but pleasant buzz in the back of his head, his wary mind unable to stay sharp now that he no longer felt the need to control his every minute expression or movement. For the first time in a long time, he was starting to relax. He would have fought it if he weren’t so exhausted from countless wakeful nights. 

His eyes roamed over your face without any purpose but to look at you. The whisps of moonlight coming in through the balcony window cast an iridescent gleam on your warm skin, the sort he’d only ever seen in paintings, the ghostly shine a weathered sailor would see calling to him on the infinite darkness of the ocean. He had never really allowed himself to take you in before that night. He cursed himself for not giving in sooner, for not satiating that burning, selfish desire to appreciate your beauty, and that you had chosen him and him alone to cherish it. 

A few of your words broke through his fog as he realized he’d been staring at you for longer than would be considered normal. 

He shook himself out of his trance, focusing his attention back on you to the best of his ability. You’d paused, looking up at him and clearly waiting for something. 

“...I-I’m sorry, you were saying?” He asked. “My mind escaped me for a moment.”

“I want to know what you thought of the part with the Fae,” you repeated, “and the dark forest.”

Right. Your book. 

You wanted to know what he thought. 

“The Fae,” he echoed slowly, stalling for just a bit to regain his conversational bearings. He cleared his throat before looking down at the scene you’d opened the book to. “Ah, right. I quite enjoyed it. It was a clever subversion of my expectations, as I imagine it would be for anyone who grew up hearing such folklore, but..”

His words stopped short when his gaze met yours again. You were clinging to his every word as though his breath gave you life. 

What the hell was he saying? You gave him a rare opportunity to speak his mind unrestrained, and he had launched right into some pretentious spiel about subverted expectations? 

His tongue darted out to wet his parted lips. 

How tiring his act had become, so much so that he couldn’t find it in himself to finish his thought. He didn’t want to feed you any more deception, and what’s more, you deserved better than to be played like a gullible patsy.

“...but anyone could tell you that, truly.”

He shifted in his seat, getting a bit more comfortable and turning his body to face you fully. His hands hesitated in mid-air for an almost embarrassing amount of time before he managed to reach out for yours. It should have been easy, seeing as he’s done this sort of thing a million times before, but the touch was never genuine with anyone else. Having such real emotion behind it made him feel stiff, awkward, and worst of all, vulnerable. 

Being vulnerable made him feel sick to his stomach.

The softness of your palms against his made him feel at peace. 

“Lucifer?” You whispered. You were getting warm at his touch. 

“The Fae,” he began, internally scrambling to put together his words, “you…remind me of them, in a way.”

That caught your interest. You tilted your head, your expression begging him to continue. 

“It’s just that they were so…well, eager to befriend, you could say, and so curious about everything. It was…” 

He wasn’t used to taking so many pauses. Usually, hollow eloquence came to him without much difficulty, but you had him struggling to vocalize what should have been a rather simple thought. 

His eyes fell to his shoes. 

“I suppose the word I’m looking for is ‘cute.’ They were cute, in the way that you are.”

I must sound so stupid, he’d thought. Regret came over him when a long silence followed his words. 

He prepared himself to feel you pull away. 

You squeezed his hands and leaned in a bit closer. 

“Y-You really think so?” You stammered. 

In that moment, you looked at him like he’d hung the stars. 

“Of course I do,” he replied, without thinking about it this time. 

The two of you talked of literature, gossip, current events, and all other manner of mundane things for almost two more hours. It was the return to form that he needed, and even better, one that didn't require him to play a part. He found himself laughing, really laughing, the sort of laughter you feel deep in your chest and can’t control, for the first time in forever. That feeling in his gut, that you meant every word of affirmation and spoke only in earnest, was unable to be shaken like before. There was no longer any way for him to tell himself you were the same as all the others; that would be a lie, and he was so tired of lying. 

Sooner or later, the time made itself known. You couldn’t finish a sentence without yawning. He, too, was starting to long for his bed, despite how badly he wanted to stay. Still, he was grateful that sleep seemed eager to embrace him once more. 

You walked him to the door of your room to exchange goodbyes, pulling him into a long hug before he left.

“Thank you for talking with me,” you mumbled into his chest.

He chuckled, reaching up to pat your back. “It’s no problem. I always enjoy our time together.” 

You released him from your hold with a sigh, turning to look at him without moving back too far. There was the briefest flicker of a thought that told him to lean in and kiss you, but he still had more than enough self-control to smother that impulse. 

“I’ve something I want you to know, Lucifer,” you said slowly. Your eyes moved past him to look down the hall, as if checking for eavesdroppers. 

“Yes, your highness?”

“I want to tell you, and you need not read too far into this, that you’re welcome back any time, alright?”

Well, surely he ought to read into that a little. 

His brows furrowed. “How do you mean?”

“I mean that it’s nice having someone I can really talk to around, and I want you to know that, so…if you ever find yourself unable to sleep, you’re free to visit. It’ll be unlocked.”

He froze in place, mouth hanging half open as a delightful shiver washed over him. 

You’d just handed him the keys to the heavens, and you had no idea. 

“You’re kind to say so,” Lucifer choked out through the abrupt dryness in his mouth, “but I would hate to intrude.” 

“It’s an open invitation,” you replied, “you don’t have to do anything. I just want you to know that you can.”

The last bit of breath left his lungs with that, and he had no more words. The two of you exchanged silent nods before you disappeared back inside your bedroom. 

His legs gave out once it sank in that he was alone. 

The heavy mahogany door of your room caught his fall, and was, thankfully, sturdy enough not to rattle. He sat there with his head in his hands for however long it took for his cheeks to stop burning. It took a great deal of willpower for him to drag his sorry self back to his own quarters. 

The sound of his own frantic heartbeat was near deafening when he collapsed onto his bed. 

He was giddy and disgusted with himself all at once. He could soar thinking about the way you looked at him when you invited him to return, but the shame that came with knowing you only knew the illusion of him was just as strong. This all started because he was hired to infiltrate the palace and see to your death, and it’s somehow come to you, gifting him the ultimate trust without batting an eye. 

It wasn’t long before the shame began to run hot, burning with something inconsolable. His high was wearing off, and reality was seeping back in through the cracks of the fantasy he’d allowed himself to construct in his rose-tinted stupor. 

He’d accomplished nothing but setting himself up for an inevitable misery. 

It would be impossible to keep up his charade forever. His employer was already nipping at his ankles, demanding answers as to when the royal would be slain, and the throne could finally be taken after almost four months of Lucifer’s stalling. Time was running out before his eyes, dissipating like frost beneath the sun. There was no more pretending; he would have to serve some answers, and soon. 

Even if he did manage to shake his employer and get off scot-free, the thought of betrayal on your face when he revealed why he truly befriended you was too much to bear. Lies like that find their way to the surface regardless of how deep you bury them. He’d seen far more complex webs of manipulation come unraveled, and he knew better than anyone that there was no running forever. His guilt was already eating away at him now, and it would only continue if he stayed with you. A sickening confession would crawl its way up his throat one day.

Above all else, he was enraged with himself for allowing it to come this far.

He was a frog in a pot, and a dumb one at that, completely oblivious to the gradual simmer building beneath him until it was far too late. It was impossible to pinpoint the moment he lost his focus, which truly wasn’t a single moment at all. It couldn’t have been, or else he would have put a stop to it right there, and he wouldn’t be in this mess. He had a million chances to stop this, to pull away or turn around or walk out, and he didn’t. You’d softened him until he was only a shell of the demon that he should have been, reduced to a needy dog that wanted nothing more than to curl up at your feet when he should have been poised to attack. 

Disgusting. 

No, this couldn’t happen. 

He could still be saved yet. 

He was an assassin, a demon, a creature of bloodshed. There was no royal lover in his future. There could be no love of any kind in his future. 

You may have opened the heavens to him, but he already knew the disgrace of being cast down from the light above. His affections may have blinded him when your forbearing touch brought him to your chambers, but he was not so swept up in his madness to walk off the edge of the cliff he’d been led to. There would be only crushing agony awaiting him below if he kept entertaining such fanciful ideas. 

He’d lost himself. He could admit that much, at least. 

All of this was nothing more than an indulgence of weakness. 

It didn’t have to mean anything if he didn’t let it. 

A/N: I quadrillion pinky swear that Chapter Two will have a nice hopeful ending, stay tuned!

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