August POV: How your Fathers First Met - Part 2 (Patreon)

Link to Part 1

*This section is written from Kip's perspective, and continues directly after the end of part 1.*

TW: drunkenness, poor decision-making while drunk, crude speech, and references to sex, including rough treatment during (no explicit details)

You throw yourself into the carriage, ignoring the driver's offer of help as you clutch your new bottle of wine close to your chest. So much for ending the night with some fun. That big guy would have been a great fuck…doesn't hurt that he was pretty sweet too. Those soft eyes were almost too much. The way he looked at you – there was something more than lust, something you're not used to. At least you found one warm memory tonight…something even the wine won’t take from you.

Dov, your drunken mind clings to the name as you down more of the drink. A succinct name, but it still felt big on the tongue. You grin, wondering what else he had that would be big on your tongue. Chuckling at your own marvelous humor, you lean against the carriage wall, waiting for the night-ruiner to hop in and yell at you.

Ever since father presented that poor woman to you as your betrothed, all you could think of was a night out to forget about it. You need a man to fuck you into a mattress for a while after all this drink, and then things will feel…quiet for a while. Filtering through the shreds of your memory as you guzzle down more of your bottle, you try to remember that one guard who took an interest in you. The new one, the only one stupid enough to risk it with you under the king’s roof. Maybe he'd come back to your room tonight. He wasn't bad, very excitable like a little bunny. You giggle.

The carriage door swings open and Ansar throws himself in with a huff. He snatches your bottle away, tossing it out the door.

You reach for it even though it's too late. "No, there was still half of it left!" you whine.

The mage bangs on the carriage wall, and the driver spurs the horses forward.

He rubs his temples. "Do you realize how this looks? Do you know what your father will do if he catches wind of more rumors of you fucking your way through grief? With men especially. So many people saw you tonight. There is no way you weren’t recognized!"

You shrug. Does it matter anymore?

With a long sigh, Ansar puts a hand on your shoulder. "I am sorry, you know that, but your life, mine, and your mother's hang in the balance here. The king will get his way, or we will all suffer for it."

You scoff, leaning over onto the mage's shoulder. "If he wants heirs so bad, why doesn't he just make them himself? Any of his noble sycophants would offer up their cu-"

Ansar shoves you. "Don't speak like that in front of me."

A chuckle escapes your throat and rolls into a long laugh, and then a cackle. "Oh…" you say with realization. "Oh… He //can't//, can he?" You cackle again, the irony too delicious. "The bastard is impotent!" You lean against Ansar again as you continue to laugh until tears are in your eyes. "I'm right, aren't I? Oh, I'm so fucking stupid… How did I not get that before? No wonder he is so obsessed with where I do or don't stick my co-"

With a hard shove, you find yourself on the other side of the carriage. The mage is unruffled, the blue fetters of his magic evaporating. "I hate when you are this drunk. But, yes, if you must know," he says quietly. "He has not been able to produce more children since you were born."

"You knew?" you ask, rocking as the carriage moves through the streets. “And never told me?”

"I assumed you’d take the very small amount of time required to figure out why he was so obsessed between the late Crown-Prince and yourself. He asked if magic could help when I first came into his…service."

"So he can't get it up?"

Ansar shifts uncomfortably. "Among other things."

You snort, missing the bottle of wine, though you would be too drunk to taste it at this point. "Tell him to try a rod up his ass; it does wonders for that. Fucking tyrant could use it…" You sway.

As you stare at Ansar, you notice the bags under his eyes and how his shoulders droop. He's not quite the same these days, but neither are you. It seems that both your fires have been extinguished. "Let's run…" you say quietly.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "You know what's at stake for me if I do."

"We can take your family with us… We used to talk about that all the time, remember? We made plans."

"And then I grew up and understood his reach. And you know very well that not all of my sisters are fit to just simply run off with us. I'm caught, Alaric. I'm caught. I am a bird in this gilded cage, same as you. If you would play by his rules just a little, we could fly a little more freely. I know this is rich coming from me of all people, but just try to…" His hand moves in a circle. "You know, give him what he wants, and then you can be married in name only and live…"

"A lie," you finish. "Live a lie in my cage…fucking men while my little wife raises whelps that both of us end up resenting along with each other. Oh, that does sound fantastic…" You want to vomit, and not for the wine sloshing in your gut.

He shakes his head. "She does want this for one reason or another."

"No, her family wants this, and perhaps they’ve convinced her it’s what she wants as well. That’s always how it goes. Same as my mother's family. It's trendy these days, you know. To sell off your children to other families because it makes you the life of the next party, to ensure you remain rich and influential..."

"She has a heart for children," he argues weakly. "And I think she understands that you're…not terribly interested in her, and she doesn't care about that. But you must keep up appearances. Just until your duty is done and the Tallulah line is secured in your father's eyes."

Tears well up in your eyes, and you shove them and your heartbreak down. "If our positions were reversed, could you do it? Because it's not just about man versus woman here, and you know that. You know everything that happened. How can I give him anything he wants when he murdered my brother in front of my eyes, in front of our mother… Not to mention that I know he killed…" Tears roll down your cheeks, and you wipe them away. "I know he killed the man I loved."

The mage tries to keep his expression in check. "I'm not a complete stranger to love, with the right person…maybe."

You sneer. "And if he dragged one of your sisters out and did to her what he did to Riagan? Would you still dance for him? Since you adore him so much, why don't you give him the heirs he desires so badly? Keep licking his boots until he takes you as his son, my friend."

Ansar goes quiet, staring out the carriage window rather than return his eyes to you. You know you're not the only one who has suffered under the king, but it's hard not to compare losses. The mage may live under the threat of harm to his sisters, but you watched your brother die, and that's something you will never forget or forgive. That day, you came to understand that your lover never abandoned you; he was taken. Stolen.

As soon as the carriage returns you to the castle, you leave without another word to the mage. You find that new guard you thought of earlier, who hasn't yet become too scared of just what your father might do to him…and you take him to your quarters. He doesn't care that you're still drunk. And he doesn't notice the tears in your eyes as he takes what he wants from your body. He's rough, rougher than last time, but you're thankful for something that finally distracts you from the noise inside your head.

Dov's kind brown eyes keep drifting around in your mind. How would he have treated you? Would he notice or care if you cried? Would he call you weak? He said he wanted to know you…but you don't think he'd still like you if he did.

You wake in a haze, face down, the same way the guard had you last night. Did he ever give you his name? You don't remember much of it now, but he's left you sore, that's for sure. He snores next to you, and you'd laugh if you didn't think it would upset your stomach further. The man must really be a fool if he's so bold as to sleep next to the prince following such a thing. After the first time, he made a rather quick exit to get back to his post. You lean up, wincing at the soreness of your back. He must have been a bit pent up…

As you stare at his back, lifting the covers to peek at his ass, you nod appreciatively. It wasn’t just your drunken stupor that made him fairly handsome. Too bad you were too drunk and such to enjoy it. You rub your eyes, willing the memory of crying into your pillow to fade away. Of all the things to remember. You shuffle to a mirror, taking in how haggard you look. Your hair is a right mess, sticking everywhere but flat in weird places. You grab a rag from a washbasin and clean up your legs and stomach. At least it seems you both got something out of your time together.

There's probably a hot bath waiting in your washroom at least… You startle a moment, seeing the bloom of purple against your hip. You turn, seeing the bruise in full, and then check the other hip, finding the same. Casting a glare at the sleeping guard, you're tempted to chuck a boot at him. This will take ages to fade…

A pair of soft brown eyes floats in your memory. You smile, just a bit as you head for the washroom. Somehow you don't think Dov would have bruised you like this…. You wonder what he's like. Such a big man would be rough, no? But his manner seemed anything but. Would he be gentle? Kind? Slow? Would he savor it – you?

You shake the thoughts away, opening the door and heading right for your tub, steaming and smelling floral today. The staff must have just drawn and heated it for you recently, and no doubt Ansar has ensured that they stay clear of you this morning…

With a heavy sigh, you sink in. "I should get him a gift," you mumble to yourself. "And apologize."