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bakerstreet2018-01-13 07:29 pm
boughtstockinsocks) wrote in bakerstreet2018-01-13 07:29 pm
Entry tags:
Companion to Royalty
There's one truth you must know of royalty: though power may lay in their hands, the crown is a cage. Whether you've always been noble, came into this position recently by complete surprise, or a simple person caught in the fray, you're realizing that leaders actually lead very little - even down to choosing who they spend their most intimate moments with. From eternal bonds of matrimonies to the distractions provided by courtesans, the people behind the throne make the rules. They cannot risk losing control of their most elevated and strategically placed pawn with a match gone wrong, which could create a domino effect and doom possibly thousands.
So, what part do you play in this game?
- Lifetime Royal: This is what you've been raised to do.
- Sudden Royal: You just learned of your position, which has been secret from you your entire life, or you unexpectedly inherited the job.
- Spouse: You're to be married to nobility.
- Concubine or Courtesan: For the royal, you're to be a sexual diversion.
- Unaffiliated: You're either a lower-ranking noble or a peasant, but you're free from all the machinations of the shadowy cabal...for now.
How willing are you?
- Completely Willing: Either you love the person you know you'll be matched with, or you're excited about the possibilities.
- Wary: There's no choice in the matter for you, so you may as well approach this situation cautiously.
- Unwilling: You didn't want to be matched up with someone. At all. Ever.
What path will you follow, once you're set upon it (there is, after all, little choice for the chosen ones)?
- Prepared for This: Either you're a royal and have been one since birth, or you knew you'd marry or sexually entertain one.
- Make Up for Lost Time: This life wasn't the one you lived until now, but times change. You're important or will be a companion to a very important person, like it or not.
- A Sacrificial Token: Somewhere along the line, your people royally pissed off someone in a key position. So, in an attempt to smooth out relations, you've been given away as a gift to the highest power, either as a spouse for a political alliance or as a concubine or courtesan.
- Pomp and Circumstance: All proper, this arrangement. You're to be married, as you've been promised to each other by your respective families. Consummation on the wedding night is key. Perhaps it's encouraged that the two of you act as if this is really a love match, to add insult to injury.
- Genuine Love: Speaking of love matches, congratulations! You're one of the incredible few who gets to marry for love, so your lovemaking should be all the more enthused.
- Only a Plaything: Heavy is the head who wears the crown, so you're expected to take on some side entertainment even if that's not your preference. Or you could be the courtesan...such a pretty, perfumed word for what the role really is...
- Volunteered: You wanted this position, either of spouse or concubine. Your reasons are your own.
- Cruel: You're powerful. You can do what you want to this person, a mere ant in comparison to you.
- Forbidden: Even the most powerful can't have everything they want, such as someone who's promised to or with another; taking them for your own would create strife and destroy alliances, even to the point of tempting war.
- Work Your Way Up: There's always a right tool for the job and you find no shame in using your own special tools to better your life.
- Give Me an Heir: Whether you're legitimate or a concubine used as a surrogate, you must help in continuing the royal line.
- Mutual Benefit: Both of you are comfortable with this arrangement because you're either compatible or it takes the pressure off of you otherwise.
- Want to be More: Though you've been relegated to courtesan, you want to be there one and only spouse...no matter if that role is already filled or not.
- Growing Affection: It may have started as all puppet strings and power plays, but now, you lo- care for them.
- Loved Before: Before you became so important and powerful, before you became the focus of all the world, it seems, they were there with you. They were with you then, and you want them to be with you now. They ground you and they care about you for you.
- Because You're Normal: They're outside of all the court's nonsense, and that's appealing to you. It's like a breath of fresh air.
- WILDCARD
How to Play
- Comment with your character, preference, preferred role, and any other information.
- Reply to others.
- RNG or choose your options.
Alec Lightwood | The Mortal Instruments | M/M
Orpheus | Greek Mythology
Thorin Oakenshield | The Hobbit
Up for some shippy nonsense~?
Definitely! Wanna just see where it goes? :)
Thorin bid good day to a scowling Balin after refusing to join everyone for an afternoon meal. He had far too much to finish before he could even think about socializing.
Thorin scratched his beard, sighed and slumped in his desk chair. He felt like he hadn't talked to anyone in the company for weeks, well besides Balin and Dwalin, but they hardly counted. Just a few more edicts and he would stop...]
For sure! :D
Bilbo wasn't sure what he intended to do in Erebor, but when one of the company asked him if he'd be leaving back to the Shire, the Hobbit blinked several times and frowned, tilting his head. Was bile supposed to be churning in the base of his throat at that notion? It seemed highly irregular...
Then again, picturing the crestfallen expression on everyone's faces if he were to depart was enough to send his heart rate near panic-attack levels, so he shouldn't be so surprised. It seemed he was well and truly rooted to the mountain for the time being. And it was a good thing, too.
"Y'should talk t'him, laddie. He's not been the same since the battle. I fear he's not watching after his health at all, and he's beyond listening to me."
Balin's words echoed in Bilbo's mind as he stood outside Thorin's office--room--thing. Why does everyone think I can influence his behavior. Come to think of it, the whole company had been giving him oddly expectant looks lately...
Anyway, he ran his hands down his outfit, brushing off imaginary dust and steeling himself as he walked into the room.
"Thorin." He said in a very matter of fact tone that belied the fact that he had more to say. "Good evening."
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Oh! Master Baggins, to what do I owe this pleasure?
[Thorin quickly pushed aside the half finished pile of documents and made to stand up, with barely a wince.]
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[Bilbo further into the room, his nose twitching as he tried to look firm and resolute by meeting Thorin's gaze head on.]
"Now, Bombur has helped prepare an excellent afternoon meal. I really think it'd do you good to eat something, especially so soon after the battle. Your body needs fuel to heal."
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Well... I suppose I could spare a few minutes to eat...
[He says without any petulance. At all.]
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[Bilbo starts and then stops, blinking. He hadn't been expecting Thorin to agree so quickly--and without any of his usual ill-natured comments.]
"Right well... It's just this way then."
[He starts heading off, walking slowly until Thorin matches pace with him. He side-eyes the man, taking in his stature and the bags under his eyes.]
"...Thorin, everyone is worried about you. You really need to rest for a while. Balin has been practically begging to take some work off your hands, and Dwalin hasn't offered to duel with you once because he knows how beat up you are."
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Yes well...Dwalin can mind his own business. I’m fine.
[He keeps his eyes trained on the ground in front of him.]
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When they arrive to the dining hall, the entire company is there. They all stop what they are doing and look up, eyes glazing with surprise. It's Dwalin who recovers first.]
Glad y'could join us, yer majesty.
[There is genuine mirth in his eyes, though the comment sounds teasing. He's truly happy to see Thorin is out of his office. Bofur raises a mug of ale, and Ori motions the King over. Bilbo huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. He wants to wait until he's certain Thorin will stay, but the aroma of Bombur's cooking is absolutely mouthwatering, and he didn't really recall having elevensies or luncheon today. He doesn't notice Balin's weighted and knowing gaze as he sits down to eat.]
So sorry for the late response!
As his conversation with Ori and Dwalin drifts into lull, he finds himself remembering panicked eyes and gentle hands gripping his shirt fiercely. For a moment he lets his eyes drift across the room to his mysterious burglar, a constant source of surprise and frustration. Thorin has a hard time NOT thinking about him most times, remembering that he truly thought the last thing he would ever see were those eyes, bright with unshed tears, begging him not to go... After all he had done to him.
Thorin cleared his throat and looked away, forcing himself to pay attention to the conversation around him.
He wasn't avoiding the halfling.
He wasn't.]
No worries at all! :)
He finds himself looking over to Thorin (a common occurrence these days), and he sees a sapphire gaze looking back at him. Bilbo’s world always seems to crumble away at the intensity of the King’s gaze… His lips part, and the smile on his face fades from something jovial to something warm and relieved. Eru, he doesn’t know what he’d have done if Thorin fell for good on the battlefield…
He makes a motion for Thorin to actually eat the food in front of him, miming the act with a joking glint in his eye. He frowns when the man looks away, but Balin is heading to talk with the King anyway.]
He’s been sittin’ away from you all night. Everythin’ alright?
[Bofur asks the question and Bilbo furrows his eyebrows.]
What? Of course, of course… everything is fine.
[Bilbo steals another slightly nervous glance at Thorin as Balin takes a seat next to the prickly monarch. They are talking in hushed tones, and Bilbo feels a well of curiosity rise within him.]
---
Another letter arrived today. They’re sayin’ you have t’choose a Consort, Thorin.
[Balin says to Thorin carefully. This wasn’t news to anyone… Thorin is King now, and every King needs a spouse.]
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Thorin lowers his fork, the food losing all flavor and sighs deeply, turning slightly to address his old friend.]
And who is saying this now? Dís? Dáin? I already have an heir, they can find someone else to pester.
[He stabs his roast petulantly with his fork, ignoring the snort from Dwalin across the table, before Balin speaks again.]
Your majesty...
[The king pauses pushing his food around to glare balefully at the white haired dwarrow, who sighs, exasperated,]
Thorin.. there are many years in you yet, Mahal be praised, and it would be highly irregular... for a king to be without a consort. It would bring ease to your people...and all of us if you would simply entertain the idea.
[Which Thorin knew, after so many years of knowing Balin, was the gentlest possibly way of saying you have no choice,
Thorin stayed his tongue, swallowing the bitterness that he was losing control of his freedom to maintain his royal image...and found himself distracted once more by laughter from across the hall. He watched Bofur throwing carrots across the table to Bilbo’s horror, from which Bifur and Nori began throwing back as retribution. The halfling’s laughter made something in his chest ache that he resolutely pushed down and out of his thoughts.
Don’t be a fool Thorin...
He went back to stabbing his food, sullenly ignoring everyone at the table thereafter.]
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Bilbo’s nose twitches, and he looks away. When he looks back a second later, Balin is still staring pointedly at him. So he does the only thing he can do and that’s to abandon his now-empty plate and pad on over to Thorin. He takes a seat next to the King, watching him stab his food. Well, at least he’s eating.]
Bilbo…
[The way Balin starts with his name makes him a bit nervous, and he looks away from Thorin briefly to address the older dwarf as he sips at a cup of tea (also made especially for him and Dori).]
Do your kind ever marry those outside the Shire?
[The question is completely innocent, but Bilbo sputters and nearly chokes on his tea regardless. A heat rises to his cheeks, giving them a faint reddish tint.]
Excuse me?
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He's certainly not interested in hearing the answer either...
He turns to Bilbo, trying to squash the very unkingly flutter rising up from his stomach into his chest.]
Balin is just being a nosy busy body, Master Baggins. I apologize on his behalf.
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If you must know, most Shire-folk marry others that live in the Shire. But that should be no surprise to you after everything you've heard about hobbits. This adventure of mine has been quite...unexpected. And unnatural, by hobbit standards. Not that it bothers me.
[Bilbo gingerly picks up Thorin's fork, placing it back on the plate.]
What are the customs like here?
[He asks because it was a good way to continue the conversation, not because he wants to know. Of course not.]
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Thorin tries not to examine why the thought of Bilbo going home to marry some Hobbit lass and having a brood of tiny hobbitlings fills his chest with a tight vice-like feeling. He feels himself showing too much on his face and realizes that everyone at the table is looking at him.
In an effort to save any dignity he has left, he startles to his feet, whacking his knee on the table causing the silverware to rattle and a few goblets to drip.]
My apologies, but I have delayed too long- I have an important... Errand to run.
[Thorin ignores Balin's flat look, Dwalin's poorly concealed amusement, and instead meets Bilbo's confused gaze.]
Thank you, for the meal, I must take my leave.
[And with all the pride he has left, he makes a hasty exit.]
So sorry about the slow replies! <3
[Bilbo tries to call after the dwarrow, standing up and watching him leave. He shoots a glance down to Balin, and the older dwarf simply sighs in resignation, watching his King leave. The hobbit casts a gaze around to everyone at the table, most of them looking at him. Why are they all looking at him?]
Since you asked…
[Somehow, Balin starting to explain this to him now does nothing for his anxiety about Thorin. Quite the opposite in fact…]
Actually, you know, I’ll just ask Thorin what’s going on.
[Bilbo feels a little bad cutting Balin off and racing out of the room after the broody dwarf who’s eyes he can’t seem to get out of his head, but only a little. He tries to stealthily catch up as quickly as possible, sure that if the dwarrow was allowed to lock himself up in his office, he surely would. And Bilbo was a much better sneak that he was a lockpick. When he sees Thorin, he hurries to catch up faster.]
Hey, Thorin! Where are you going? Are you alright?
Ditto! No worries. This is rly cute so far ❤️❤️
Thorin slowed to a stop, waiting for Bilbo to catch up.]
What is it you require Master Baggins?
[He said without turning around, trying to un-tense his shoulders.]
Aww I think so too!!
You rushed out quite quickly there, don’t you think? Balin didn’t offend me. You don’t have to worry about that. What has you so bothered?
[His tone is achingly sincere, and there is no hint of judgement or annoyance present. He is simply concerned.]
Does…Does it have to do something with marriage?
[He tentatively tacks the question on at the end, tilting his head and ignoring the way his heart has just doubled in speed. Does he even want to know what Thorin’s duties in regards to marriage are?]
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He felt himself flounder for words, opening his mouth and then thinking again and closing it with a snap. Saying such things out loud makes them finite... But perhaps that is something he needs right now. Otherwise he doesn't know what he might say that he would regret.]
I'm glad Balin did not offend...
As to the other matter, it does. Pertain to the subject of marriage that is, which is why Balin so tactfully brought it up.
[He took a deep breath.]
It has been brought to my-
I have to...
what I mean to say is...
Oh bloody balls of Mahal! I have to choose a royal consort.
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How could a hobbit ever be a Royal Consort, after all.
With that thought came the realization that he’d want that. In fact, the idea of it being anyone else sent unpleasant sensations through his body like short electric pulses. He tried his best to hide all of this in his expression, but it only served to strangle it. His eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulled at his lips. His hands fidgeted nervously, and suddenly he found it very difficult to meet that oceanic gaze. He was sure he’d get lost if he did.
So he did the best thing a hobbit would do in this situation. He tried to offer simple but meaningful advice.]
So you get to choose? Well…shouldn’t you just choose who you want then?
[He still couldn’t bring himself to look at Thorin.]
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If It were only that easy Master Burgler...
[Thorin cut himself off for a moment, hearing footsteps coming down the hallway. He schooled his expression and nodded at the small group of dwarrows as they passed. When they had turned the corner and they were alone again, Thorin took a few small steps closer to Bilbo and lowered his voice.]
Choosing a consort has always been looked at as a way to seal alliances and create strong offspring. Neither of those factors matter in this situation as I already have Fili as an heir...
[Thorin looked at Bilbo imploringly.]
What would you do in my place?
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The King who needed to marry someone.
It was only that and the fact that Thorin was still calling him ‘Master Burglar’ that brought Bilbo out of his slowly rising panic. Listening closely to the dwarrow’s concerns, Bilbo found a clear discrepancy in what Thorin was saying. If those factors didn’t matter, than why wasn’t it easy for Thorin to just do as he pleased?
Bilbo cleared his throat at the question being posed to him, and he couldn’t help but meet that imploring gaze head on. It took him a moment to find his words as he barely kept himself afloat against the weight of Thorin’s piercing look.]
I… Well, if those factors—the alliances and—offspring—
[Eru help him.]
--don’t matter, then why can’t you marry who you please? If you want to set an example… set one you can be proud of. Marry for the right reasons.
[His tone softened at the end, but he flicked his honey gaze away from Thorin’s down to his jacket, distracting himself with some lingering (or imaginary) dust on the dwarf’s coat. He reached over and dusted a bit off of the sleeve, and if his fingers lingered just a little too long on the fur-lined hem, well that was just because the material was very soft.]
𝒔𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 ( snow white and the huntsman ) f/m*
2nd attempt!
He was bitter and empty and... ignorant. Brothels were places he scratched an itch and might have learned a trick or two but intimacy never reached his heart. It was almost a necessary step to being taken seriously as a huntsman, or so he'd been told. He'd lost his wife and couldn't be seen lost without her or would never make a proper wage.
Yet his ruse fooled no one. Eric often drank away what money he earned and was lucky a whore hadn't cut off his cock when realizing he had no money left to pay. It had been Snow White that saved him.
Only at her death did he drink again in her presence. Drink was the only way he learned how to combat pain. First Sarah then Snow, Eric thought himself bad luck until Snow White came back from her sleeping death. She looked at him with eyes that he found himself matching. The evil queen was destroyed and he still found himself looking at her the same way. It was enough that he kept distant unless called on by Snow--her majesty.
Not one servant was allowed to remain when they were training. Snow insisted upon it, giving the very rational explanation of concern interfering with proper combat training. There was also the matter of how improper the huntsman could be. It was for the best that no one interrupted. Not even William who had the biggest inkling of what the training was really for.
Eric might have always left dirty and covered in sweat but his arrival had been much the way she last saw him at her coronation. He was washed, in his better attire. She was the queen now. He had to be as fitting as possible to be in her presence. Snow wouldn't have the honest answer; he was in love with her. No. Love had only caused pain. He was too ignorant and bullheaded to see it had been what truly saved her life.
Neither did he recognize these requests for training weren't her majesty's desire only to stay combat ready. This was their third meeting, the first two more verbal sparring than physical fighting. She bested him on a move with her sword and he stood at her mercy regardless of the knife pointed in the direction of her heart from underneath. His blue eyes watched with wonder and intrigue and something that would make the crotch of his pants look strange if she looked.
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It didn't escape the watchful eyes of advisors and her closest court that when she did smile - large and unrestrained and bright - it was towards the huntsman who'd been by her side since her return to the world of sunlit freedom. They saw everything, as was their job: her insistence that he has earned an important position in her guard, should he take it, the intensity with which she defended him should his character be called into question, and, most importantly, her blatant affection for him that vastly outranked that of liege for subject. An open secret amongst the wiser in the kingdom, those whose backs remained steeled from ages of cloak and dagger, was that the queen (in what wild and unrefined but delicate fashion she could manage) was hopelessly in love with a peasant of no standings whatsoever.
Despite her gaze needing to always be on the horizon for the benefit of her people, Snow White saw much, as well. She certainly saw her own heart, as scant as she could actually undestand it. And she knew that she tired of hiding, waiting, and not acting.
Nothing could ever be achieved without action. She of all people had learned that dreams couldn't come true through sleep alone.
"You've left yourself unguarded. A moment is all it takes, you said." From anyone else, those words might have formed playful banter, and the smile on Snow's lips almost suggest that, even as the hilt of her sword presses against his side. However, a thread of something entirely new and unsophisticatedly honest in her voice - which had, oddly enough, taken on a light husk.
Snow had no experience in intimacy. She didn't see the arousal stirring in him, for she had a far better place to look as she leaned in and pressed her warm, panting mouth against his.
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Her majesty offered more than a smile, he greedily took it. He had started to wonder if he imagined the first time his lips felt hers against his. Eric remembered everything at the contact. He wanted more but settled for dropping his knife and holding her sides as his mouth played against hers. Her lower lip was gently sucked on, easing the tip of his tongue against hers. The excitement between his legs only grew worse. A moan rumbled at his chest that might have spilled into her mouth.
"Aye... A moment is all it takes," he huskily teased. "You left yourself unguarded, your majesty."
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ooc
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no subject
Mary Crawley | Downton Abbey | M/F
mad sweeney | american gods | m/f
in a more modern setting, he has played consort to queens and goddesses before, and would again.
just know there's a reason those relationships don't last - he's a massive tool. )
alec í amasa of kerry ▎nightrunner series ▎m/m
noctis | ffxv
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