Chapter Tags: flirting, flattering, mentions of murder, secrecy, angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of breeding
Chapter WC: 2356
The King’s Blessing Masterlist
Sam’s POV
“I didn’t realise you were so beautiful,” Sam compliments, watching the brunette’s cheeks flush a darker shade of pink.
“Thank you, your highness,” she flusters, looking down at her feet.
“Well, I just had to say something,” Sam protests, “I’m only surprised that a woman of your beauty is merely a chambermaid.” She can barely hide the smile on her face at his flattery, and Sam smirks softly to himself. “Why don’t you follow me?” he asks, already beginning to lead her down the hallways towards his sleeping chambers.
He opens the door and invites her in, and she bites her bottom lip softly as she looks around the room and he closes the door behind them.
“Do you wish for me to change your sheets, your highness?” she asks, blinking at him.
Sam laughs softly, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t invite you in here to work, darlin’,” he tells her, heading over to his wine. He grabs two glasses and fills both with healthy amounts of wine. “I invited you in here to drink with me,” he explains, turning around and slightly raising the glasses in his hands. As he approaches her he hands her a glass, and then gestures to his couch. “Sit with me.”
The brunette does as she’s told, taking a seat on the couch a respectable distance away from the prince, before taking a slow sip of wine. She remains silent, not that Sam’s surprised, and he observes her for a long moment, drinking his own wine, and then licks his lips and clears his throat.
“How would you like to become my personal chambermaid?” he asks, swirling the dark crimson around his glass before looking up at her, watching her eyes widen at the question. “It would come with better sleeping chambers and more food, but it would also mean you would have to serve me daily in these chambers.”
“It would be an honour, my prince,” she replies, bowing her head submissively.
“Great, then I shall get it done,” Sam smiles. “But I do hope you realise that I expect certain things from my chambermaids,” he adds.
“I understand, sir,” she nods, placing her glass of wine on the table before them before slowly lowering herself to her knees on the floor at her feet. “I’m here to serve you.”
Sam’s eyebrows raise as he realises the misunderstanding, and laughs softly.
“Oh no, darlin’,” he continues to laugh, reaching down to take her hand and encourage her off of her knees. “Not that.”
The brunette’s cheeks only turn a darker shade yet, and she looks down at her feet as he helps her back onto the couch.
“I’m so sorry, your highness, I thought–”
“It’s okay,” he rushes to reassure her. “I’m not my father.” The poor girl still can’t look at him, but maybe Sam can use this to his advantage. “What I was actually talking about is trust and respect.”
“Of course, sir,” she nods, still unable to look at him.
“Drink some more wine, darlin’, relax.”
She takes her wine and eagerly complies, swallowing a large mouthful and spluttering on it for a second. Sam can’t deny she really is beautiful, and it hasn’t been hard to flatter the girl, and maybe on another day under different circumstances, he wouldn’t have been opposed to the misunderstanding leading somewhere. But today he has other motives.
“What’s your name, by the way?” he asks.
“Astrid,” she replies quietly.
“That is said to mean beautiful, I think it’s a fitting name for you,” he tells her. Sam waits for her to drink a little more before he clears his throat and adds: “You were there, weren’t you? The night of my mother’s death?”
Astrid now seems to be unable to look at him for another reason, and Sam’s suspicions only grow.
“Yes, your highness,” is all she offers as a reply.
Sam purses his lips, and tries to formulate his next question in his mind first.
“Forgive me, Astrid, it’s just I didn’t get to say goodbye to her, and I wondered how she spent her final hours.”
Astrid now seems flustered for an entirely different reason, swallowing hard. “I– I don’t remember, sir,” she finally offers.
“You don’t remember your queen’s final moments?” Sam presses, frowning slightly.
“I wasn’t there,” she tells him, “I just… I was asked to clean the chambers afterwards.”
“Clean the chambers? My father’s chambers?” Sam pries.
“Yes…” She finally looks at him, her eyes wide, “I mean…” she stops, swallowing hard. “With your permission, my prince, I’d like to return to my duties now.”
“Hey,” Sam calls out, reaching across to place his hand on hers softly. “It’s okay, whatever you say to me will stay in these chamber walls, and I will protect you, I promise.” Astrid now looks fearful, licking her lips as she stares back at him. “Remember, Astrid, trust and respect.” She nods minutely, so Sam presses harder. “My mother died in my father’s chambers didn’t she?” he guesses. Astrid doesn’t reply with words, but she does nod her head again. “Was there blood?” Sam’s heart seems to sink a little deeper, his stomach knotting a little tighter as once again Astrid nods her head, her breathing becoming heavier.
Sam doesn’t need to ask any more questions, he has all the evidence he needs to prove what he always suspected. His father killed his mother. He’s not shocked, he’s not even slightly surprised, he always had this gut feeling that this mother’s demise would be met by the hands of his father, and he’d suspected since her death, and the king’s feeble alibi that it wasn’t an illness that took their mother. His father was so quick to marry Y/N, Sam can only assume that has something to do with it, and he knows his mother wasn’t the most quiet and dutiful queen. Father always did hate that.
“Why don’t you retire for tonight?” Sam asks, trying to keep his voice steady. “Report back here at sunrise, to help me dress for the day.”
Once again, Astrid only nods, and rises to her feet, lowering her head to courtesy him before she heads towards his chambers doors, and takes one last look at him before she leaves.
Sam finally lets out a shaky breath, trying to keep the tears away as he reaches for his wine and finishes the glass. His mother was murdered, and it’s about time they got their revenge.
Dean’s POV
“There you are,” Dean turns around to find his brother entering his chambers, closing the door behind him.
“Where else would I be?” Dean frowns, heading over towards his couch.
“Well I did check the brothel before your chambers, given your track record,” Sam tells him.
Dean scoffs, shaking his head. “Sure, because visiting the brothel mere hours after my return will really convince my once betrothed I still love her.”
Sam chuckles slightly and nods his head. “Okay, fair enough.” He takes a seat on the sofa opposite Dean and pours himself a drink. “How did it go with her?”
“About as well as your first sword lesson,” Dean offers.
“Not good then,” Sam scoffs, and Dean laughs, remembering the five year old Sammy trying his best to swing the sword that was far too big and heavy for him, only to topple backwards and land on his ass.
“Not good at all,” Dean shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure she hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Sam argues immediately, shaking his head. “Dean, you haven’t seen her, you haven’t seen the way she stares at your empty seat at the dining table when father isn’t looking.”
“Well, she basically told me to go fuck myself,” Dean retorts, beginning to feel himself sulking like a reprimanded child. “She really stepped into her role as queen, pulling rank on me.”
“She’s just hurt, Dean. You left, and she didn’t know if you were coming back. And I didn’t see it at the time… but now, looking back…” Sam sighs. “I don’t think she was even told you weren’t at that altar. You should’ve seen the look on your face when father announced that she was marrying him. She looked for you, brother, and you were just… gone.”
“Well thank you for making me feel even more shit about it,” Dean grumbles, drinking some more wine.
“I just want you to see it from her side, Dean, she doesn’t hate you, she’s just upset, but she’ll come around… and hopefully soon.”
This prompts Dean to look at his brother, a frown on his face. “Why?”
Sam’s face suddenly turns sombre and he takes another drink before licking his lips.
“I was right,” he tells Dean, looking down at his glass. “It was father… He killed mother.”
“Are you sure?”
Sam nods, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, but he doesn’t offer any other confirmation than that. But Dean trusts his brother’s judgement, especially when the accusation isn’t all that far from Dean’s expectations of his father. Still, the confirmation that their mother died before her time at the hands of her own husband isn’t news that is very settling to the prince, especially given he is now the husband of someone Dean still cares deeply for.
“I have to warn Y/N,” Dean concludes.
“We have to have a plan,” Sam corrects. “We have to stop him, Dean.”
Dean swallows hard, not sure he likes the idea of killing his own father, but knowing that it’s probably the only way out of this mess, to free them all from the king’s ruthless reign.
“Let me talk to Y/N first,” Dean tells him, rising to his feet and downing the remainder of his wine.
As soon as Y/N opens her chamber doors she frowns and begins to shut them again, but Dean wedges his foot in the way, preventing her from closing it fully, and she huffs.
“Just give me two minutes,” he begs.
Eventually, he feels the door ease up on his foot, and she opens it just enough to let him slip inside.
“What do you want, Dean?” she snaps, turning her back on him and walking over to one of the windows.
“I just want to say I’m sorry. I know that me leaving hurt you in ways I can never make up for. I’m sorry that I didn’t write, and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you I was leaving. Father lied to us both, but I’m here now and I will fix this, I will make this right.”
“How?” she asks, turning back around. “I am married to the king now, and the only way out of that is if I were to die.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Dean counters. “If the king were to die…”
“I warned you last night,” she tells him, glaring at him.
But this time, Dean isn’t deterred. “If the king were to die before you could bear him a child, then you would be eligible to be another’s bride. And as I am the heir to the throne, that person would be me.”
Y/N doesn’t reply for a moment, her forehead twitching into a deeper frown for barely a second as she swallows hard.
“We could finally be together, Y/N, like we waited all that time to do, and he’d be gone, he’d never be able to hurt me or you or Sam…”
“He wouldn’t,” she argues weakly, shaking her head.
“If he can kill his own wife, he can hurt us too.”
“Your mother?” Y/N presses. Dean doesn’t even need to confirm anything, Y/N is already breathing a little more erratically, swallowing hard. “I knew it. I knew it was him,” she barely whispers.
“Then let me save you… save us all before it’s too late,” Dean urges.
Y/N shakes her head, silent tears now falling down her face. “I can’t,” she barely whispers.
“Why?”
“Dean, I haven’t bled in weeks, I’ve heard the chambermaids whispering.”
“You’re pregnant?” he asks, feeling his heart stop and wedge into the base of this throat.
“I don’t know for sure yet,” she counters.
“Does he know?” Y/N just shakes her head, swallowing hard. “Good, don’t tell him.”
“Dean, he’s my husband, I have to.”
“It’s not even confirmed yet, there’s no need to tell him,” Dean tries to reason.
Y/N opens her mouth to reply, but before she can her chamber doors begin to open, and Dean turns his head to see his father walking into the room. He’s not seen the man in the flesh since the night his mother died, and Dean feels his jaw clench and his hands ball into fists at his side almost instinctively.
“Dean,” John calls out, a tone of surprise to his voice. “I’d heard whispers you had returned, but I hadn’t expected to find you alone with my wife in her chambers.” His tone turns more sinister as the sentence goes on, and his eyes move from Dean’s face to Y/N’s.
“I was just leaving,” Dean counters, making moves to leave, but John stands in the way and smirks down at him.
“I think you should stay. I only came in here to put a baby in my wife’s stomach, and that’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
Dean tries to hide the contempt on his face, but he’s pretty sure he’s doing a bad job.
“I wouldn’t dream of disturbing such an intimate moment,” Dean argues, glancing back over his shoulder at Y/N who still has tears glistening in her eyes.
He looks back at his father and pushes past him, feeling his hands begin to shake at his sides the further away from the chambers he walks. He finds himself at Sam’s door before he knows it, and doesn’t knock as he enters the chambers and finds the prince leaning on a window ledge. Sam stands to full height at the sight of his brother.
“We need to do it,” Dean agrees. “As soon as possible.”
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