Chapter Tags: mentions of loss of virginity, prostitution, angst, mentions of infidelity, coercion, manipulation, alcohol abuse, murder
Chapter WC: 2882
The King’s Blessing Masterlist
John’s POV
“This is the best you could do?” the king prompts, staring Robert down.
Robert nods his head, “there are few women who have yet to be blessed in the kingdom, your majesty.”
John huffs a breath and rises to his feet, descending the stairs before him to observe the three girls that have been presented to him. He has to be smart about his selection. He needs a girl that Dean will want to fuck, but not one that John will miss. That means the brunette on the left has to go. Dean wouldn’t be interested in that one, she’s far too dirty and her clothes are basically rags. That leaves him with the blonde and another brunette. The second brunette is rather pretty; with big wide blue eyes that look up at him softly – almost timidly – and those are exactly the kind of girls John looks forward to the most.
He’s come to accept the fact that no one will ever compare to the princess his son is about to marry, and he’s just going to have to live with that. Because Y/N was perfect, far more perfect than the king could’ve ever imagined or hoped for. So innocent and naive, a sense of hope on her face whenever she thought it was over. There was a sense of fear too, one the king thrives off of. And as for her body; it was like it was crafted by the Lord himself just for a king as rich and powerful as him. Despite her slight reluctance and ignorance of everything that they were doing, he enjoyed every moment of it. He loved how tight she felt wrapped around him, the sound of her screams made his cock throb, and the sensation and relief that followed is nothing the king has ever felt before, and probably nothing he’ll feel again without her.
“I don’t need to be blessed,” the blonde speaks up defiantly, snapping John out of his thoughts. “Your majesty,” she adds, a lot less confidently, suddenly lowering her gaze to the floor and bowing her head slightly.
“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” John chuckles softly, moving to stand directly in front of her. “My son will like you.” He looks at Robert and smirks. “The other two are dismissed.”
The king is left alone with the blonde who is now far less confident than when she started, as she looks down at her feet and practically trembles in her place.
John reaches for her chin, tipping it back so he can take a good look at her, inspecting her by playing with her hair and observing every angle of her face.
“Yeah, you’ll do quite nicely for my gift. Hope you don’t mind my son blessing you, he needs some practice.”
“I know you’re upset with me, son,” John sighs, moving to sit on the couch opposite his two sons. He takes the wine that’s handed to him and the redhead he’d instructed to service the three of them for the night perches herself alongside him, so he throws his arm around her small frame. “But I was only doing my duty. It will be your duty too, one day.”
Dean’s face still looks like thunder, and John wonders just how long his son is going to sulk like a little child for having to share his toys with someone else. He’ll have to get used to it eventually; John fully intends to lie with Y/N again, and as the king, he knows he’ll get what he wants. Dean’s pushing back, testing his boundaries, but John’s sure he’ll come around eventually if he still wants the throne, that is.
“I’ve got you a wedding gift,” John gets up, deciding now is a good time to cheer up his eldest. He sends the redhead away to return with the blonde virgin he’d picked out earlier that night, and as soon as she’s close, he grabs her shoulders and pushes her out in front of Dean, presenting her like the offering she is.
“Who’s this?” Dean asks, eying the blonde suspiciously.
“This is your gift,” John repeats. “… and a slight peace offering.”
He waits for his son to smile, or thank him, but it doesn’t come.
“No,” Dean insists, shaking his head.
“Would it ease your mind if you knew her name?” John blinks, wondering what the hell Dean’s problem is. “Tell him your name, my child, don’t be shy.”
“Claire.”
“Claire here is a woman, she bled a long time ago, but she’s yet to find a man who wishes to marry her, so she has yet to be blessed. Maybe you can help her out with that.”
There was a time when the prince talked with great enthusiasm about one day becoming king and blessing the girls of the kingdom like his father, so John is expecting a smile, or at least a cocky grin from his eldest son, but no such thing happens.
“I’m not the king,” Dean tells him through gritted teeth.
“Yet,” John points out. “But one day you will be, and I figured tonight would be the perfect night for you to practise what will soon be your duty,” John explains. Dean shakes his head, looking away. “Don’t you want to feel a virgin before you become a husband?” John asks, confused. “Don’t you want a taste of the power that comes with taking someone’s innocence?”
“I would’ve had you let my bride give her innocence to me,” Dean grunts, getting up to his feet. “But now, thanks to you, she is no longer untouched.”
John had known before he took Y/N’s innocence that Dean’s affection for his betrothed ran deeper than something physical, but he had never prepared himself for this much hostility.
“You’ll understand one day, son, when you’re the king,” John tries to reason.
“You think I’m going to keep up this facade when I’m king? The first thing that’s ending is this stupid blessing. It’s not a blessing, it’s a curse.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” John tells him calmly, trying to hide the amusement he feels towards his son’s childish tantrum. “I hope you change your mind, the people of our kingdom take great comfort in the idea of my blessings.”
“More fool them,” Dean scoffs. “You’re a sick sonofabitch, and I won’t be anything like the king you are. You can keep your whores and your virgins, the only woman I want is Y/N, and from tomorrow, neither of us will lie with anyone else. And that includes you, your majesty.”
The amusement is suddenly gone and replaced by something much darker. If Dean thinks becoming that girl’s husband will give him some higher authority of Y/N over the king, then he’s sorely mistaken. Naively, maybe, but John had always thought that Dean would be fine with sharing his wife with his father if it meant his father turned a blind eye to the other women that frequented Dean’s bed. But those women seem to have stopped, and Dean’s no longer as distracted as the king had hoped. And as for being called a sick sonofabitch? John’s jaw clenches. Dean has taken his disobedience too far. The king had thought making him watch the blessing would put him back in his place, but it appears it has only made matters worse. John needs a bigger game plan. He needs something that will show Dean exactly who holds all the power around here.
John swirls the deep crimson liquid around his gauntlet as he waits, taking a sizable mouthful and swallowing it down as a knock sounds out from his chamber door. Upon swallowing he commands the person enters, glad that he’s not going to be kept waiting any longer, and watches as Robert enters the room and holds the door open for the person behind him.
Y/N’s eyes are wide and fearful as she enters the room – unexpectedly fully dressed – and looks around.
“Your majesty,” she curtseys, a shake in her voice.
“Come in,” he encourages, and Robert leaves them alone, closing the door behind him. The sound of the latch engaging makes Y/N jump as she looks over her shoulder and realises they’re now alone. “Wine?”
“I shouldn’t,” she excuses. “It’s rather late, and tomorrow is a big day.”
“Of course,” John smiles, pouring her a glass of wine regardless. “Your wedding day. Are you excited?” he asks, bringing the glass to her.
“Of course, your majesty, I love your son very much.”
John smirks a little at her comment, scoffing under his breath. “Drink, little lady, it’ll help your nerves.”
She shakingly takes the glass from him and sips the wine, licking her lips.
“Do you know why I called you into my chambers so late at night?” he asks, moving towards the couch in front of the fireplace with the wine decanter in his hand, before taking a seat.
“No, your majesty,” she answers him politely.
“Come and sit,” he commands, tapping the space next to him. She slowly makes her way over and perches herself on the seat’s edge alongside him, looking down into her wine glass. “I invited you here because in a few short hours you will be a wife, and you will become a Winchester; a princess of Lawrence,” he reminds her. “Dean may be your husband, but I do hope you understand that I will still be your king.”
“Of course, your majesty,” she nods.
“That means your duties may be to your husband, but above him, your duties will be to me.”
“I understand, sire,” she nods.
“Do you understand, little lady?” he presses, pouring both of them more wine. “Drink up.” Y/N does as she’s told, and then licks her lips and John finds himself staring at her mouth, remembering the sight of those lips wrapped around his cock. “Do you understand that as the king, I may want you to do things for me that you otherwise wouldn’t do?”
Y/N finally looks up at him, swallowing slowly. “Like what, your majesty?”
“Anything, really,” John shrugs nonchalantly, reaching for the wine decanter and pouring her another glass. He tips the glass towards her lips and silently encourages her to drink more, so she does, finishing another glass as he watches.
“Anything?” she asks, the slight slur now evident in her voice.
“Like, maybe I’ll ask you to accompany me on a trip,” he tells her, pouring another glass of wine. This one she doesn’t need encouraging drinking. “Or maybe I’ll need you to serve me in other ways.”
“You mean like a wife would service her husband?” Y/N guesses, her eyes starting to glaze over from the wine as she looks at him.
“I suppose so, yes,” John nods, feigning disinterest.
“But your majesty, you are not my husband, and Dean–”
“I am your king,” he reminds her. “And your duty above anyone else is to your king.”
Y/N frowns but then slowly nods her head in defeat. “Is that why you called me here at such a late hour, your majesty?” she asks, a more obvious slur now evident in her voice. “For me to service you?”
John can’t stop the smile from spreading over his lips. “You’re more clever than I’ve given you credit for, little lady.”
“I always swore to God that the only man I would service would be my husband,” she confesses, looking down at her hands. “You have many women in this kingdom who want to serve you, your majesty, many far more beautiful than me.” John is about to tell her that’s a lie, but she goes on. “I know it’s rude of me to ask, but is there any chance that you would stop asking that of me once I am your son’s wife?”
She looks at him almost hopefully.
“You want to be faithful to your husband, I can respect that,” John tells her, though the idea of her refusing him is making the anger that he still holds from his altercation with Dean earlier that night swell a little more in his chest. Why won’t either of them understand that he holds the power? If he wants to fuck this girl – married or otherwise – he will. “But people who don’t respect their king don’t last very long in this kingdom, Y/N,” he warns her sternly.
“I respect you, your majesty, but I also wish to respect God, and the vows I will make to my husband tomorrow.”
“Fine,” John relents, realising that nothing is going to change her mind tonight. “But the last I checked, you’re not a married woman yet, Y/N,” he reminds her.
Something else glazes over Y/N’s eyes now – tears, maybe – and she swallows thickly and attempts to drink the final drops of wine still in the bottom of her glass. This prompts John to give her a refill, and she swallows most of it down, scrunching up her face as she pushes the glass away and sits it next to the decanter on the table before them.
“How do you wish me to service you, my king?” she asks, her breathing uneven.
“With your mouth first,” John tells her bluntly. She just nods silently as John reaches for the rope tying his trousers closed and begins to tug it open. “Get onto your knees,” he commands, and he watches as Y/N slowly slides off of the edge of the couch and lands on her knees on the floor at his feet.
She doesn’t look at him, but John doesn’t so much care about that. His cock is hard and he’s longed to feel her mouth on him again since he blessed her.
“Only the pretty girls get to use their mouth on me, Y/N,” he tells her honestly, reaching inside his pants for his erection, pulling it free.
Y/N begins to lean forward, but just before John can finally feel it again, his chamber doors open, and he turns his head to see Mary walking through them. She halts when she notices him with Y/N and her eyes widen. Y/N is quick to scramble up to her feet, curtseying the queen and looking away ashamedly.
“Your highness,” she mumbles out, keeping her head low.
“Leave us,” Mary orders. Y/N looks towards the king but not directly at him, but he doesn’t protest the command, still a little taken aback by the sudden intrusion. “NOW!” Mary’s voice sounds out again, louder this time.
Y/N is quick to flee the room, not once looking back, and John huffs as he watches her go, stuffing his softening cock back into his pants and working on retying the rope.
“I was fucking busy,” he grunts, reaching for his wine to pour a fresh glass and take a sip.
“I could see that,” Mary points out, and John can’t help but notice that the submissive nature he’d beat into her is gone again.
He sighs as he rises to his feet, once more grabbing the decanter to bring with him. “What do you want, woman?”
“I was coming to see if you needed me, I know you had a night of drinking with our sons to celebrate tomorrow’s occasion,” she explains, her cheeks turning a darker shade of pink. “But I can see that you found someone else to service you.”
“I did,” John grunts. “Too fucking bad you scared her away.”
Mary purses her lips and John huffs a breath. “Go on, say what you want to say,” he encourages. Mary just shakes her head, so the king rolls his eyes. “Speak freely, woman,” he snaps.
“Why her, John? She’s marrying your son tomorrow, does that mean nothing to you?”
“Are you questioning your king and what he chooses to do in his own kingdom?” John challenges, stepping closer to her.
“Yes,” she replies defiantly. “She is betrothed to your son. The fact you even blessed her in front of him is enough to make me want to be sick. If you think Dean is going to sit back and let you fuck his wife once they’re married, you’re more stupid than I thought. That boy has honour – unlike his father – and I think you underestimate him. You underestimate all of us. This won’t be your kingdom forever, and if you’re not careful, it might become Dean’s quicker than you think.”
“Are you fucking threatening me, my love?” John asks quietly, pressing himself against her.
“Yes, your majesty.”
“I could have you executed for treason,” he reminds her, the anger swelling to impossible lengths inside him. How dare she talk to him that way, how dare any of them treat their king like this.
“Do it,” she tempts. “I’d rather die than live under your ruling any longer.”
John lifts his arm, the wine decanter swinging and hitting her on the side of the head, smashing into pieces in his hand and all over her as she falls to the floor. Blood begins to pool onto the flagstone as John stands over her.
“Your wish is my command, my love,” John tells her quietly, watching her bleed out over his chamber floors.
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