Chapter Tags: fluff, mentions of loss of virginity, mentions of cheating (ish), humiliation
Chapter WC: 2617
The King’s Blessing Masterlist
Your POV
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Dean asks, standing at your side and holding out his hand.
When you’d first met Dean, you didn’t like the fact that he called you sweetheart. It didn’t seem a very appropriate thing for a prince to call his betrothed; a princess nonetheless. It seemed derogatory in many ways and coupled with the fact that Dean had little interest in you for the first several days of your time at Lawrence, it hardly made you feel special or wanted. Though you figured that if he’s the prince, he can treat you however he sees fit, and why would he be interested in you yet when you’re still just a girl and he’s clearly a man, anyway?
But over the weeks, he’s started to make more of an effort with you, taking you for long walks around the kingdom, showing you different parts, and talking to you, and you’ve begun getting to know each other. Part of getting to know Dean has also included feeling less insulted with him calling you sweetheart. You’ve slowly got used to his teasing and the way he calls you silly names and winks at you when he’s being playful. Now you’re starting to see it as part of his charm.
“If you’d please excuse us, father,” Dean adds, looking towards the head of the table at the king.
“Of course,” King John replies, nodding his head in agreement.
With the king’s consent, you take Dean’s hand and let him help you to your feet. You’re both quiet as you leave the banquet hall and start to make your way down the hallway.
“So where are you taking me today?” you ask, intrigued.
“I think I’m yet to show you the lake on the far east side,” he tells you.
“I believe you are,” you agree, not recalling seeing any kind of lake yet.
“It’s beautiful there, you’ll love it,” he reassures you. You walk in silence before Dean adds, “almost as beautiful as you.”
You feel your cheeks heating up at the compliment and glance over at him.
“You know, you don’t have to flatter me, your highness, I’m already betrothed to marry you.”
“Your highness?” he questions, before scoffing. “It’s Dean. And anyway, who says I’m trying to flatter you?” the prince smirks, making you think he definitely is. “You’ve gotta marry me whether you like it or not. Besides, can’t a guy give his future queen a compliment?”
You stare at him for a moment, a smirk starting to form on your own lips. “I suppose he can,” you agree.
You’re not unfamiliar with the way the villagers in the kingdom respond to your presence; moving to make sure they’re not in your way quickly, bowing their heads in respect as you pass them, offering anything they have to offer to the prince as he passes their stalls or gazes upon anything they have. Dean doesn’t take a single thing, not until he’s offered a rose, and he takes it, bringing it to his nose to smell briefly before offering it to you instead. You’re flattered by the gesture and accept it graciously, twirling the stem between your fingertips as you continue to walk in the way Dean is leading you.
Eventually, you get there, as you come face to face with a wide lake, trees bordering the other side, and you realise it’s rather peaceful around here.
“This is beautiful,” you tell him, your eyes still casting over the large expanse of water.
“Follow me,” Dean orders, reaching out and grabbing onto your hand, pulling you gently towards a shaded area under a tree just on the water’s bank. “Sit.”
“I shouldn’t,” you tell him politely, “this dress was only made for me yesterday, I can’t ruin it.”
“Fine,” Dean smirks, rolling his eyes at you. He’s quick to remove his outer jacket, laying it on the floor. “Now will you sit?”
“Your highness, that jacket probably costs more than my dress,” you tell him, a little baffled.
“I don’t care, I want my princess to sit and enjoy this view with me.”
You clear your throat and finally give in, not wanting to disobey your prince too much. You carefully place yourself down on Dean’s jacket, and you can’t help but smile at the view. Dean’s right, this place is beautiful, and even more so from this new perspective.
“Thank you for bringing me here, Prince Dean, and for taking the time to get to know me. I know you didn’t have to do that or waste any time with me until I come of age,” you explain weakly.
“Why would any time spent with you be a waste?” he asks.
“Because we’re not yet wed, and I cannot give you children, or my body to service you with.”
“Well, maybe I’m just enjoying getting to know the woman I am about to spend my life with,” Dean counters.
You turn your head to look at Dean rather than the view and bite your bottom lip. “I’m really looking forward to getting to know you too, my prince.”
“It’s Dean, sweetheart,” Dean once more reminds you.
He reaches up, his fingers brushing along the side of your face, and then he tucks some of your hair behind your ear. There isn’t much physical contact between you and Dean, usually, so each time your hands brush, or he touches you or you him, you get this tingling feeling on your skin, and it makes you both incredibly anxious and excited all at once. While your mother always spoke fondly of your father, she never told you about the butterflies in your stomach each time he looks at you or the way your heart starts beating harder every time he smiles, or the fact that you will constantly think about kissing him. You lay in bed and fantasise about your wedding day and the night that follows it, and then you remember Dean talking about John blessing you, and you can’t help it, you need to understand what that means.
“Urm, Dean?” you ask, finding it weird to only address him by his name. Dean pulls back, dropping his hand from your face.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“When we met, you mentioned your father would bless me, what does that mean?”
“Your father never blessed the women of your kingdom at home?”
“No,” you reply honestly, shaking your head, Though you can’t help but wonder if he did, and you just didn’t realise it, or maybe you call it something different where you’re from.
“Well, here in Lawrence, it’s the tradition that the king – my father – blesses every woman before she weds and takes a husband. The king’s blessing is said to bring great health and fortune to her future family.”
“Oh, I see,” you nod, but then you frown again. “But… How does he bless them? You mean… with a prayer?”
Dean laughs at your question, but then sees the confused look on your face and clears his throat, shaking his head. “Oh, no,” he tells you. “He… well, you lay with him.”
“Lay with him?” you ask, “you mean as a husband and wife would?”
“Yeah.”
“But he’s not their husband.”
“No, but he’s the king, and it’s a blessing.”
“I’ll be giving my innocence to King John? Not you?” you ask, frowning.
“Yeah,” Dean replies, though his tone suggests he’s not so happy about that fact, much like you’re not either.
“That doesn’t seem fair… or right. I’m only meant to give myself to my husband… you.”
“It’s just part of being king.”
“So one day, when you’re the king, you’ll have to lay with every woman in the kingdom, even though I will be your wife?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Dean nods. “But only the ones that come of age and want to wed under my ruling.”
You take a deep breath, not sure what to make of this new information. You don’t want to lay with King John – your future husband’s own father – but it seems like you don’t have much choice in the matter. And you certainly don’t have any say in Dean blessing women once he becomes king.
“Anyway, let’s talk about something else…” Dean prompts, and you try your best to take your mind off of what he’d just told you, and focus on whatever it is he wants to talk about next. “You never finished telling me about Elming.”
TWO YEARS, SIX MONTHS LATER
“My love.”
You beam widely as Dean offers you his hand, and you bow your head in respect towards the king, and then take the prince’s hand, rising to your feet. Dean lets go of your hand as you exit the banquet hall, even though you don’t want him to, but he stays close as the two of you make your way to your favourite place. You pass the same little stalls you do every morning, and like always, Dean steals a rose and hands it to you.
“You should give Marcus some gold sometime, you must’ve stolen a hundred bouquets of roses over the years,” you tease slightly, twisting the deep red flower between your fingers, before stroking the soft, silky petals.
“Marcus?” Dean questions.
“Yes, that’s his name. Do you not take the time to learn the name of the people you will one day rule? I do.”
Dean laughs, shaking his head. “I guess that’s why you’re my queen, to plenish what I will lack as king.”
You roll your eyes playfully at him, before returning your attention to your rose.
“Alright,” Dean speaks up again, once more stealing your attention. He digs a hand into his pocket and produces one gold coin, holding it up in front of him, before retracing his steps back to the man at the flower stall and handing it to him.
Marcus is so grateful he continually bows and thanks him, even as Dean walks away again.
“Now Marcus and his family will eat well tonight,” you smile softly.
“Indeed they will,” Dean agrees. “Now let’s get out of here before you make me spend all my riches.”
“I’m pretty sure that would be impossible,” you scoff, following Dean even though you know the way like the back of your hand.
As soon as you arrive at the lake you smile widely, and follow him to your favourite spot under the tree. Dean pulls the blanket that had been tucked up under his arm and lays it flat along the grass, and once it’s done, you take a seat on it, looking out at the still water.
“One day I’m going to build you a boat so we can sit out on it,” Dean tells you, taking a seat beside you.
“You’re going to build the boat, or are you going to make someone else do it?” you smirk.
“You’re feeling feisty today, aren’t you, my love?” Dean smirks, nudging you softly. You shrug, and Dean laughs, throwing his head back as he does so. He stops, and then just stares at you, making you feel just a little self-conscious. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
You smile, looking away, flattered by the comment but also feeling a sense of guilt that the only reason you’re not married yet is because of you. In the last few years you’ve been in Lawrence, you’ve really fallen for Dean, and you cannot wait to marry him, either. You feel so lucky to be betrothed to a man like him. He’s kind, funny and cares deeply for you. What more could you want in a husband or the future father of your children? You just wish you’d bleed already so that you’d finally become a woman. At the very least you wish your mom was here, so you could tell her your concerns about not yet coming of age, about how you’re afraid that the love of your life will grow bored of waiting, or maybe not even him – the king and queen – and you want to talk to her about the only thing that tarnishes everything you’re excited for; being blessed by King John. Did she and father know about that when they agreed to betroth you to his son? Does father do that for Elming and you just never knew?
“I’m sorry I haven’t become a woman yet,” you tell Dean, feeling your cheeks burn with the humiliation.
“Hey, my love,” he prompts, reaching for your hand and squeezing it. “It can’t be helped. Besides, I’d wait a hundred lifetimes for you.”
Your cheeks only burn hotter, only this time for a different reason, especially when Dean lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses it gently.
“Well, there is one good thing about it not happening yet,” you point out. Dean doesn’t say anything, so you clarify. “I don’t need to be blessed yet.”
A small frown flitters over Dean’s brow and then he nods. “I’m not looking forward to that, either. Maybe I can change his mind. Maybe we don’t need extra blessings, I feel blessed enough.”
“Me too.”
Dean sighs, still holding your hand as he squeezes it. “When I’m king, I’ll find another way to bless our kingdom. A way that doesn’t need me to lay with anyone that isn’t you.”
“Do you mean that?” you ask, frowning softly. You’d always assumed that Dean would love being able to lay with many women, from what you’ve heard from his younger brother, Sam, he quite enjoyed doing that before you came to Lawrence.
“You’re the only girl I want, Y/N,” he tells you sincerely.
You lean in closer to him, and he does the same to you, the tips of your noses finally touching as you lean your forehead against his and inhale deeply. One day you’ll feel those lips on yours, and you hope it’s one day soon, even if you do have to be blessed.
As usual, the dinner table is deathly quiet as you all sit and eat. No one talks, and the only noise to be heard is the slight scraping of cutlery against plates. You glance across at Dean several times during the meal and feel your cheeks turn hot every time he winks at you, or stares at you too long. A couple of times, Sam seems to notice, and he crinkles his nose in disgust but doesn’t say anything, which you’re grateful for.
“So Y/N,” Queen Mary speaks up, getting your attention. “Have you still not bled?”
Mary just blinks as she stares at you, and you feel your cheeks start to heat up for an entirely new reason. The thought of discussing something so intimate not only at the dinner table but around three males, makes you feel incredibly uncomfortable.
“Mom,” Dean complains, glaring over at his mother.
“What? It’s a simple question, I just want to know when my son can finally wed his betrothed. You’re not getting any younger, Dean, and soon you won’t be eligible for someone else should you need to be.”
“I don’t want anyone else,” Dean argues.
“Dean,” King John intervenes, silencing his son. “Mary,” he also says in the same warning tone.
“It was just a simple question, John,” she argues back, and the mood in the room changes slightly. At least, it does for you. You’ve never known a woman to treat her husband – a king, nevertheless – so disrespectfully before.
Mary returns to staring at you, clearly still waiting for an answer.
“Not yet, your highness,” you reply quietly, shame crawling over every inch of you.
“Nevermind,” King John speaks up once more. “I’m sure she’ll be worth the wait, right son?” he asks, beaming over at Dean who simply nods.
You just hope they’re both right.
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