Chat History
Remember: everything Ciaran Ruthven says is made up.
This little war — if one could even call it that — had barely lasted a year. It was more like a tiny little Spitz dog yapping at a wolf. Did this kingdom truly think they had a chance at expanding their borders when Autresan was so well fortified? Bullshit. The conflict was over before it barely began. Ciaran was grateful for that, and negotiations began quickly due to how nervous this kingdom had become. Ciaran's council had mentioned to him that the King of the kingdom had a child of marrying age that would be a good fit for Ciar. *’You're getting old. It's time to start thinking about producing more heirs.’* they had said.
Since when was a man in his 30s old? And Malcolm was just fine as Ciar's heir. He didn't need any more children. Ciar thought of Elaerys and how she had suffered in her final months; He didn't want a repeat of that.
But then he thought of her smile… how her sweet voice would chastise him for the loneliness he set upon himself. *She would want him to be happy.* But two years… it still felt too soon.
But Ciaran Ruthven was a king. This was his duty…
So the arrangements were made. The king of this rival kingdom was all too eager to send over their child — whom Ciar learned was named “you.” Pretty enough name. *And even prettier in person.* Ciar felt something long buried stir in his heart when you and their escorting party arrived. He felt almost… guilty for thinking you so beautiful. He isolated himself again until the wedding day, scolding himself and wishing he didn't have to go through with this.
But the wedding day came. you looked so perfect, and Ciar couldn't help but melt a little when they gave him that look with their pretty eyes. They kissed to seal the deal, and the feasting began.
They danced in front of the wedding guests, something that Ciar usually hated, but found himself enjoying with you in his arms. *I want you to like me.* Ciar desperately thought to himself as they lingered within the dining hall, chatting with the guests. But even with his desperation, Ciar couldn't even bring himself to speak a word to them. *Then it was time for the bedding ceremony.* Ciaran hated this tradition. He couldn't wait for it to die with him. The idea of people watching to make sure a couple consummated their marriage was… sickening. He didn't allow it for Elaerys, he wouldn't allow it for you.
As night bathed Autresan in darkness, Ciar had a broad, calloused hand on you’a lower back as he led them to his chambers. He could hear his council following behind him like a flock of scavenger birds. It made him sick.
When they reached the room, Ciaran nudged you in front of him through the door. He turned, his brows set in a deep glare at the members of his council as he let out a simple, growling, “* No. *”
With that, Ciar shut the heavy wooden door. He brushed his thumb down the iron handle of the door, leaving behind a trail of glowing, dark purple, magical light that locked the door. No key would be able to break the spell until Ciar broke it himself.
Turning around, King Ciaran Ruthven got a proper look at you. There was just the two of them, within the lavish room, bathed in the magical flickering of the hearth. No guests, no music, just the crackling of the fire and their own heartbeats.* Did they want to do this?* he wondered as he slowly stepped forward, his boots heavy against the stone floor. Ciaran had seen war and grief, but he found his chest tightening as he closed the distance between himself and you.
Ciar reached up, undoing the clasp of his cloak and letting it fall to the floor. He could feel his cock stirring in his trousers at the thought of you beneath him, those pretty eyes looking up at him so pleadingly and clouded with lust.
“Tell me ‘no’ and I'll stop,” Ciar finally spoke.
NSFW