Chapter Tags: nerves, flirting, teasing, mentions of prostitution, mentions of cheating, mentions of loss of virginity, Dean’s being a bit of a player in this one
Chapter WC: 2358
The King’s Blessing Masterlist
Dean’s POV
Dean will never admit to anyone that he’s nervous. It’s stupid really, whether she likes him or not, she’s betrothed to him, so she’ll have to marry him anyway. So it’s not like he has to make an effort with her or anything, it’s not like he has to charm or woo her. Much like he doesn’t have to charm or woo the other ladies that spend their nights beside him. The only thing he has to charm those women with is gold. Though sometimes, just being a prince is good enough for them. Either way, Dean’s never had to try very hard, and even now he doesn’t, either.
Besides, he should be more concerned about if he likes her. After all, this is the girl that will soon become the woman that will be his wife. He’s going to have to serve as king with her by his side as queen. What if she’s ugly? What if she laughs with her nose, or doesn’t know the proper table etiquette? What if she makes a terrible mother to his children? He’s going to have to impregnate her at least, even if that’s the only intention when he lays with her, he’s still going to have to do it. Maybe he could close his eyes and think of someone else.
But as Dean steps into the room and sees her standing at the foot of the stairs, her eyes twinkling up at him, he’s more than pleasantly surprised. Y/N is beautiful. More beautiful than any woman that’s spent the night in his bed before. He smiles softly as he descends the stairs for a closer look, and now he’s nervous for another reason; he wants this girl to like him, to want him, so now he has to try.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he beams, finally close enough to check her out, wondering just what the rest of her body looks like under her dress.
“You’ll have to excuse my son, he’s forgotten his manners,” Dean hears his father grit out.
John had pestered him all morning about the etiquette of meeting his betrothed and what is expected of him as the prince, but Dean hadn’t really paid much attention, too busy thinking about what she looks like. He had a vague recollection of her mother when she visited when Dean was only a child, but it wasn’t enough for him to remember if she was beautiful or not.
“Of course,” Dean nods, holding out his hand. He takes the hand she offers him. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess Y/N,” he tells her, kissing her warm, soft skin.
“Prince Dean, the pleasure is mine.”
Her voice is soft and delicate, almost shaky and giving away her own nerves about the occasion. Dean realises she’s lowering herself, bowing her head to him, and he rushes to stop her, thinking about all the women that end up on their knees for him for entirely different reasons.
“Don’t go giving me ideas, sweetheart,” he smirks, helping her back to full height.
“Dean, why don’t you show your betrothed around her new home?”
Dean agrees, happy to spend some more time with who will soon be his bride, and he eagerly leads her out of ear-shot of his parents. He wonders if she’s a wild spirit like he is, but there’s something about her delicacy that makes him think that isn’t the case. This girl has clearly been raised to be a Princess, a proper Princess, and as far as he’s ever experienced, Princesses are uptight and barely much fun. Though maybe this one is different, she isn’t the blood heir to the throne of this kingdom, and maybe that makes her more fragile, more eager to please her future king.
“I look forward to getting to know you more.”
“Oh, I’m looking forward to doing a lot of things with you, getting to know you is far down on that list.” Dean flashes her a wink, watching as she starts to seem a little uncomfortable, but not in a flattered way like he’d hoped his teasing would make her. And then he considers that she has no idea what other things he has on that list. “Do you know what I’m talking about, sweetheart?” he asks with a slight chuckle.
“Not entirely,” she confesses quietly.
“I’m talking about what we get to do once you’re my wife,” he smirks, turning to face her and closing the gap between them. He assumes if she’s been raised to be a queen, she would’ve been educated on exactly how they will consummate their marriage, at least, but Dean doesn’t mind teaching her the other tricks he’s picked up along the way too. “I mean, we could cross one of those things off the list right now. We have been waiting fifteen years for this moment.”
Dean’s eyes drop to Y/N’s lips, and he wonders how they might taste, licking his own to ensure they are wet enough.
“I believe that moment should be saved for our wedding, should it not?” Comes her reply.
Dean’s taken aback for a moment, surprised to hear this girl wants to wait for marriage for even just a kiss. But then he considers that she is just a girl – a girl who hasn’t even bled yet – and when she’s a woman, maybe she’ll think differently about that.
Dean scoffs but then nods his head in understanding. “Yeah, I guess. My father has to bless you first, anyway.”
He forces a smile at the comment – it was worth a try, he tells himself – and then steps back, turning his body back to facing forwards, feeling just a little humiliated by the rejection. No one has ever rejected him before, and he’s not sure he likes the feeling.
“Bless me?” Y/N asks, sounding confused.
Dean doesn’t clarify, not really in the mood for thinking about it. He was hoping that he would finally get there before his father, at least for his betrothed. But a tradition is a tradition, and at least his time will come when he’s king.
“So, when do you think you’ll come of age, anyway? How long must I wait?” he asks, curious to know how long Y/N is going to keep him waiting.
“Mother assures me it’ll be any day now,” Y/N confirms, smiling softly.
“Good,” Dean nods. “Let’s pray that she is right.” He forces a smile and continues to walk, wondering if his days as a single man are numbered and if that’s necessarily a bad thing if it means Y/N becomes his wife.
“Son?”
The word echoes around Dean’s mind for a moment or two, and he grumbles as he starts to disturb from his sleep, his head pounding.
“Son.”
The word is not so much posed as a question and is more barked as a statement this time, and Dean finally comes around to realise that it’s his father’s voice he can hear. As he tries to roll himself off of his stomach and onto his side, he feels a body move from under his arm and opens his bleary eyes to see the redhead that had spent the night in his bed falling to her knees on the floor beside his bed, bowing her head to her king.
He turns his head in search of the brunette he expects to still be on his other side, but like the redhead, she too is on her knees on the floor beside his bed.
“What?” Dean croaks out, still sleep-addled.
As he moves, an empty wine bottle rolls from the foot of the bed and falls to the floor, smashing into pieces and scaring the girls in the royal men’s presence.
“What the fuck are you doing?” John asks, furrowing his forehead.
“Sleeping, what the fuck does it look like?” Dean grunts, letting his head drop back to his pillow.
“At this time? Do you not remember you have a betrothed sitting at our table right this very second, trying to enjoy her breakfast, which she should be doing at your side.”
“Ah fuck,” Dean groans, rolling onto his back and bringing his hands to his eyes so he can rub the sleep from them. “Alright, I’m up,” he insists, pushing himself into a sitting position. He looks to see that the two girls are still kneeling on the floor, bowing their heads to the king that has yet to acknowledge them, and Dean chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Bet that’s nice, huh?” he asks his father, referring to the girls with a nod of his head.
John barely looks at them. “You get used to it.”
“Oh, I’ll never get used to that sight,” Dean chortles, but John clearly isn’t in a very playful mood today – not that he ever is – because he huffs a breath at Dean’s comment.
“Leave us,” he commands, and within seconds Dean’s nighttime entertainments are taking themselves out of the door, still completely naked.
He watches them go for a moment, a small smirk on his lips as scenes from the night before starting to play around in his mind, and then he notices the way John’s giving him that stern king look and he returns his attention to his father.
“You should try the redhead,” Dean suggests, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and reaching for his clothes. “Feisty.”
“I’ve fucked every woman in this Kingdom,” John needlessly reminds him.
“Yeah,” Dean starts, determined to not get annoyed by the fact, “but have you fucked her since you blessed her?” Dean challenges, smirking.
“We’re not here to talk about the whores I fuck, we’re here to talk about the ones you do.”
Dean hesitates as he’s dressing for a moment, frowning slightly. “What about them, father?” he asks, a little irritated when he figures out where he thinks this conversation might be going.
“They have to stop.” Dean instantly gives his father a challenging look which prompts the king to continue. “You’re betrothed, Dean.”
“So? I’ve been betrothed since I was like four. Didn’t stop you from gifting me my first whore, did it? Didn’t stop us on all those trips together.” Dean rises to his feet. “You’ve encouraged it if anything.”
“Well now I’m discouraging it,” John tells him sternly. “Your betrothed is in our kingdom now, it’s time to start acting like a Prince about to marry a Princess.”
“You fuck other girls,” Dean challenges next, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Because I’m the king, it’s part of my duty.”
“I didn’t say bless I said fuck. You fuck whores, you think Mom doesn’t know about them? You think the whole kingdom doesn’t know?”
“I’m the king, I can do what I want, and when you’re king, you can too. But until then, you’re going to behave.”
“Dad, c’mon, you haven’t even blessed her yet, she’s not even a fucking woman, what am I meant to do while I wait?”
“Wait. With your dick inside your pants.” Dean huffs. “Y/N arrived a week ago, and I’ve barely seen you say two words to her, the kingdom is gonna start talking.”
“I’ve said more than two words to her, Dad, but she’s boring, she just talks about our wedding and children, and she’s all polite and–”
“And I don’t see the issue,” John interrupts. “Trust me, son, you want a bride who is polite and loves her family and is eager to please you.”
“Well that’s just it, Dad, she’s not eager to please me.”
“You said so yourself, she’s not even a woman yet, I’ve not even blessed her, you shouldn’t want her to please you yet.”
Dean purses his lips and realises his father is right, and now he doesn’t have a rebuttal. It’s not that he doesn’t like Y/N, because he actually does, he thinks she’s beautiful and she does seem sweet and gentle, which is the kind of mother he always wanted for his children, but Dean is just a man with needs and urges, and he’s been used to giving into those needs and urges for a long time now, so what? He’s just got to go back to ignoring them? Pretending that they don’t exist until the day finally comes when Y/N can satisfy them? And what happens when they get married? Is she the only one that can satisfy them until he becomes king and has the freedom to do what he wants? Dean’s not sure he’s ready for that.
“What’s the matter, son? Don’t you think she’s attractive?” John prompts.
“Dad, c’mon, you’ve seen her, she is beautiful but that’s not really the point.”
“Dean, you’re never going to be a good king if you don’t recognise your duties and responsibilities to this kingdom and put them before your own desires,” John sighs, moving to look out of the window. “And you have duties and responsibilities as a Prince, too. And one of those is sitting at our table, awaiting her betrothed.”
John turns back to look at Dean with a strict look on his face that Dean knows only too well. He sighs, nodding his head, accepting his fate. Maybe he just needs to play this game until he’s king, and he can do what he wants just like his father.
“I was a prince once too,” John reminds him.
“Yeah, but never at my age. By my age you were king, and you and mom were married.”
“Well I’m sorry I’m not dead,” John replies sarcastically, before smirking slightly. “Wait your turn, son, your time will come.”
John approaches Dean, placing a hand down on Dean’s shoulder and squeezing. “And if you do need to stray from those duties and responsibilities,” John adds quieter, leaning his mouth closer to Dean’s ear. “Then at least be discreet about it.”
With one last slap of his hand on Dean’s shoulder, John heads towards the door, and Dean purses his lips, figuring he should at least attempt to join his betrothed for breakfast.
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