Chapter Tags: mentions of loss of virginity, suggestions of attraction to underage girls (but it’s like kinda glossed over and also somewhat era-appropriate), handjob, jealousy, threats, sword duel, flirting, there’s a pissing contest against a wall (not really but kinda), mentions of young marriage/pregnancy
Chapter WC: 2194
A/Ns: I have adjusted the timelines in canon to fit this kind of era/world of ages for marriage/kids.
The King’s Blessing Masterlist
John’s POV
“And now, my child, you have been blessed. May your life with your future husband and the children you may bear be happy and healthy and prosperous.”
The King forces a smile down on the girl who offers him a nervous smile and then bows her head and thanks him graciously. John turns on his heels and heads towards the door, pushing his way through it to see Garth standing on the other side.
“Make sure those sheets are cleaned and she’s out of here before noon,” he instructs, “and fetch Jo to my chambers, I need a bath.”
Garth scrambles off before John as barely finished saying the last word, and John huffs a breath, heading towards his chambers. He slows as he hears Y/N’s laugh and steps out onto the balcony to see her below with Dean. He’s trying to show her how to use a sword, showing off with the blade usually attached to his hip as she tries to mimic him with a stick. But she keeps dropping it, making them both laugh, as Dean gives in and presses himself behind her, showing her how to grasp the weapon correctly in her arms, swaying them left to right as he talks to her.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
John turns his head to see his wife approaching, her eyes set on their son with his betrothed below them, her lips pursed. He doesn’t comment on the look of disdain on her face, and instead looks back at the couple himself, his gaze mainly drawn to Y/N and the way her hair flows as she moves her whole body to try and mimic Dean’s fighting skills.
“Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” Mary notes casually.
“Our son is a lucky man,” John agrees, glancing over to see his wife is not happy with his answer. He just laughs softly to himself, shaking his head. It would be so much like her to get jealous of the new pretty female in the family. After all, she’s not had anyone to contend with all these years after giving the king two sons.
“I thought you might say that,” she replies, a tone of bitterness in her voice.
John takes one last look at Y/N and turns on his heels. “I must bathe, I’ve just come from a blessing.”
Mary frowns at him for barely a second before casting her eyes away and nodding her head.
The king leaves his queen on the balcony and resumes his journey back to his chambers to find Jo already waiting for him, his tub filled with warm soapy water, a sponge in her grasp.
“Your majesty,” she curtseys.
John begins to strip his clothes, and Jo rushes to help him. He’s not wearing many thanks to his morning’s activities, and as soon as he’s naked, Jo is helping him into the tub where he soaks his muscles and lets Jo begin to sponge him down. Her hands dip under the water, pressing over his torso and waist and chest, down his legs and arms, and then she lets the sponge go, placing it on the edge, and once more her hand disappears under the water, and John knows what’s coming. The relief he really needs right now. The king barely finds a virgin he wants to bless enough to reward her with the fruits of his labour. As Jo’s hand seeks out his length and wraps around it, begging to bring it to life, he closes his eyes and relaxes back, replaying the image of Y/N in his mind.
Mary is right, Y/N is a pretty little thing. He thought so when she first arrived in his kingdom, but even more so now that she’s growing up. She might not technically be a woman yet, but she looks like one and she acts like one. He’s never let on to Mary that he’s been looking forward to blessing this girl, but he knows his wife will be able to tell as much. John doesn’t look forward to every blessing, and none as much as he’s been looking forward to Y/N. Most women in the kingdom aren’t pretty – at least, not as pretty as someone like Y/N – but he does get quite the rush of power, always being the first person for all these soon-to-be wives. There’s something quite thrilling about taking so much innocence.
And Y/N seems more innocent than any other.
He imagines what she looks like under her pretty dresses every morning at breakfast, and watches the way her lips curl around cutlery and cups whenever she drinks. She’s seemingly gone from a girl to a woman during her time at Lawrence, except for the obvious change that is yet to happen, and John just wishes he knew how much longer she’d keep him waiting. He’s growing tired of waiting, much like everyone else, but for different reasons.
John’s hands leave the water and grip the edges of the tub hard as he finds himself right at the edge, and one final thought about Y/N and blessing her tips him over it.
Once the king is dried and dressed, he leaves his chambers and returns to the balcony. The queen is gone now, but Dean and Y/N are still play-fighting with swords, and Y/N is still awful at it. John chuckles quietly to himself and finds himself approaching them before he can change his mind.
“Fuck, you would’ve killed me if that was real!” Dean exclaims, making Y/N laugh hard.
“Having fun?” John asks, prompting them both to stop what they’re doing. Y/N immediately curtsies and addresses him, and Dean clears his throat, beginning to put his sword away.
“I was just showing Y/N how to use a sword,” Dean explains, clearly a little embarrassed to be caught.
“You weren’t doing a very good job, were you?” John challenges, making his son blush. “May I?” he asks Y/N, and she just nods her head.
“Of course, your majesty,” she agrees blindly.
John steps up behind her, pushing her arms out in front of her, wrapping his hands around her own as he positions them on the stick she’s using as a makeshift sword. He has to stop himself from rocking his hips against her, though he’s not sure she’d feel it through the many layers of her dress, anyway. He shows her how to swing, but she doesn’t seem to be getting to grips with it very well, so John eventually gives up, no longer sure he can press up behind her under the pretence of teaching her something she clearly can’t learn.
“Well, never mind, beautiful princesses such as yourself shouldn’t be fighting, anyway.” He flashes her a wink as he steps back and watches her fluster with the praise slightly.
John ignores the way Dean shoots his father a jealous look, and only relishes in the way Y/N starts playing with a loose curl of her hair, biting on her bottom lip.
“Unsheathe your sword,” John commands his son as soon as he gets an idea.
“Why?” Dean questions.
John unsheathes his own, holding it out in front of him. “I am your king, you do as I tell you,” John reminds his eldest sternly.
Dean purses his lips but doesn’t argue, and presents his sword in front of him.
“Step back, little lady, don’t want you getting hurt,” John tells her softly. Y/N takes several steps back as John refocuses his attention on Dean. “Let us show your beloved how well you fight.”
Dean’s forehead twitches into a frown, but he doesn’t protest, altering his stance a little and raising his blade a little higher. John waits patiently for Dean to make the first move, because he always does, and this isn’t a time that John is proven wrong. Dean makes a swing, the blades clashing against one another, the sound echoing through the air, and the two men are off, both swinging their swords, blades colliding, bodies moving with the energy crashing through the weapons, their feet shuffling across the grassy floor. Dean ducks just before the blade can catch his cheek and makes a swipe for John’s shins, but John is quick to move away and their duel continues.
“C’mon son, I taught you better than that,” John chides, “fight like a fuckin’ man. I’m barely trying.”
Dean’s face screws up tighter, and he grunts, taking a harder swing, putting more effort into it, but John still manages to block it. He makes a trick swing, watching Dean scramble to defend himself and miss his footing, ending up on his back on the ground, but before John can claim the victory, Dean has kicked himself back to his feet, and John will admit he’s secretly impressed with the move. Clearly, Dean is showing off to his betrothed. But John can do better than that, and he stops holding back a little more, and starts fighting a little dirtier, wanting to put Dean back in his place and prove to Y/N who the real man is around here.
Once again John gets Dean onto the ground, Dean grunting in pain as he lands, his sword flying from his hand and landing out of arm’s reach. John steps over him, pressing the tip of his blade against Dean’s throat lightly.
“Good try, son,” John grins down at him.
Dean’s jaw clenches and he makes moves to fight back with his bare hands, but John presses the blade down a little harder.
“It’s over, good fight,” John tells him sternly.
John sheaths his sword once more and holds his hand out for Dean to take, and after a moment’s hesitation, Dean does. John helps him to his feet and begins brushing him down, but Dean shrugs him off and turns away, making John laugh. He turns to Y/N to see her staring at them both with wide eyes.
“Little lady,” he smiles, bowing his head slightly, before clapping his hand down on Dean’s shoulder as he passes. As he makes his way back towards the castle he notices Mary standing on the balcony, observing them from above, and he chuckles quietly to himself.
“What the hell was that?” Mary asks him as soon as he reaches her.
“Just a friendly father-son duel,” John tells her.
“You could’ve hurt him, or worse, killed him.”
“He’s fine, he can fend for himself. He’s fought battles worse than that and he will again.”
“I don’t like you fighting with him like that,” Mary tells him.
“And I don’t like your fucking tone, woman,” he replies with his jaw clenched.
Mary clenches her own jaw, her eyes wandering back down to Dean and Y/N who is fretting over him, but he shrugs her off and says something that makes her recoil.
“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” Mary asks.
“Who?” John asks, feigning ignorance as he makes his way back inside the castle and heads over to the wine.
“Don’t play dumb with me, John, I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Mary challenges.
John laughs softly, pouring himself a healthy glass of the crimson liquid and takes a long sip.
“Bet you just can’t wait to bless her,” Mary accuses next.
“It’s just my duty as king,” he tells her, shrugging.
“A duty you invented,” she reminds him. “I know what you’re doing, John, and you’re the king so, of course, you’re going to get away with it.”
“Exactly, I’m the king, I’m your king,” John reminds her calmly, but his tone is still stern. “So change your tone, or I’ll change my queen.”
Mary purses her lips and John smiles sinisterly at her, taking another sip of wine. It’s quiet between them for a long moment, which John is grateful for as he slowly steps towards a window and looks out to see Y/N still there. He watches her, sipping his wine for a moment, and he thinks maybe Mary has finally learned her lesson, but then he hears her voice again and he realises he’s had no such luck. He used to enjoy her feisty nature, but over time, he’s grown to despise it.
“She’s broken, you know? She’s eighteen now, by her age we had been married for four years, and I was pregnant with Sam.”
“She’s not broken, she’ll bleed soon enough,” John insists.
“You better be right, or our son has wasted eighteen years of his life betrothed to the wrong woman, and we won’t have an heir to the throne.”
“Well as long as you’re not planning to kill me, we’ve got time,” John tells her, flashing her a sarcastic smile. He steps up closer to her and lowers his voice. “And need I remind you that you are my queen, and if you ever speak out of turn to me again, you won’t live to regret it. And I’m the king, so I’ll get away with it.”
![Don’t Wake Me Up || Chapter Fourteen [FIN]](https://thepublishinghive.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/Screenshot-2026-01-02-at-12.51.34.png)
Leave a ReplyCancel reply