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Annie wasn’t any kind of a good royal.
It was well known across the kingdom that the next in line heir was nothing but a pretentious, cold hearted girl whose wits and strengths were only used for self-gain. Not that it was surprising, or anything; her father was just as bad as her, and with him as a guide, there was no way for an apple to fall far away from its tree.
It led to many, many assasination attempts. Not only the country was ruled by a tyrant, but the child of said tyrant was a brothel kid that was ripped away from her mother within six months from her birth. Talented as Annie grew to be, her mother was a common brothel whore, and Annie herself — she was a daughter, a princess, and not a prince charming to bring this kingdom to repair as everyone wished for.
It wasn’t often that she bled, however. No matter how hard the assassinators tried, she was more skilled in swordsmanship than them, and if that wasn’t enough — she had those who would bleed for her.
The boy in front of her, bleeding from a half ripped ear, wasn’t her bodyguard.
Bertholdt was initially one of the stable boys that were meant to only meet and treat the fillies and foals that were bred specifically for royalty. Annie had known him since she was eleven, the age her father decided it was beyond due for her to learn how to ride a horse.
Bertholdt helped her up on a horse for the very first time, helped her learn how to mount and ride it. Helped her pick the horse that she now considered hers. Flaune the stallion, named after one of her favourite things, because Bertholdt suggested she’d give it a name that is favourable, for good luck.
As if anyone would be lucky, when they belong to me.
She seethed bitterly, touching her white shirt, drenched with blood that wasn’t her own. By now, with her being a moon away from being twenty, Bertholdt became more of a servant. Not by promotion, but more by natural progression; he was now in charge of the stables and the royal stallions that stayed there, but with workers under him that took care of most things, he often stayed by her side.
Her father allowed it for his intimidating appearance. Properly strong from handling ‘beasts’ and tall of stature, hitmen thought twice before they came up against him. His true personality was more mousy than one would expect, but that didn’t stop him from having proper skills to fend just about anything off.
If only he could fend her off from his mind, his life would be far, far better.
Just four hours ago, a stronger assassin managed to sneak into the castle. The hows and whys were all still investigated, but by the time they realized the woman was an assassin, she lunged at Annie. Bertholdt was there, heart pounding in his ears as he slammed her away.
Aside from his ear being half cut, he had slashes on his arms. hands, and the lower side of his abdomen. The cuts on his body weren’t deep, and were doused with disinfectants the moment Annie managed to kick the hitwoman off of him and make her run when guards came.
He was a poor thing to view, the crevices of his wounds a pulsing red so raw it was difficult to look at. The truly bad ones on his upper arms were bandaged, and frankly, she had no fear of blood, but perhaps it was his dedication that hurt.
Only a fool would remain put in her room so injured, just in case someone else would come to finish her off.
He breathed haphazardly, holding onto his stomach. His movements were languid and laboured, subtle with the dim moonlight that shone through her window. They barely exchanged a word since everything happened, but something was building up within her.
Frustration.
She wasn’t sure if she was frustrated from the assasination attempt or from his silence about it. He shared not a tidbit of pain with her, and attempted to conceal it even if it was as obvious as a day. The bleeding stopped, but the downturn of thin lips and rounded eyes made it clear something was awry.
Annie came up from the bed she had sat on. She’d tell him to get on it instead, but even if he’s injured, his mind was a commoner’s mind, and one that has lessened himself to even worse at every turn. He wouldn’t agree; he never agreed, even in more innocent days in the past.
He raised his eyes to her, only to bring them back down as she crouched beside him. In her training outfit, she looked like nothing more than a high classed boy with an ivory complexion, but his tanner skin still tinted red as she caught his eye.
Annie didn’t understand his infatuation with her. When she first realized it was there, she assumed it was just the fantasy of man and an unreachable blue blooded status, but he didn’t take any opportunity to admit it. He never asked for anything from her, no matter what. He was fine with giving, with just her time in his hands.
Annie viewed most exchanges in her life as transactional, and by her standard, he was just about the worst deal-maker in the world. It was his problem, really; but days like this, she couldn’t help but feel like she needed to keep him afloat before he drowns in his own generosity.
“Take off your shirt.”
She never minced her words, and he often felt the brunt of it. Only one tip of his ear could redden as of today, but it was still just as noticeable as any other day. “Your highness, I cannot-”
“You’ve been cringing while touching your wound for the past hour,” she said, looking straight into his eyes with a squint. “Take your shirt off so I can see it.”
Bertholdt gulped, looking at the marble floors of her room. Slightly hesitant, he brought his hands up gingerly. Who knew if it was from pain or nerves, but he lifted his back from the wall he leaned against and brought his shirt above his head, casting it aside.
Her eyes trailed down on his figure slowly; from broad shoulders to a heaving, lean chest, down to the trail of dark hair that started from his belly button. A bandage was present on his lower left abdomen, attached with flimsy tape that barely stuck to it.
It was pleasantly proved to only be a yellowed cloth with not much red marks on it, and the two small stitches that were present at the top of it were holding well. It could only be painful, but it was in the process of healing.
Annie touched at his side, finger pad gently feeling at his skin. It was more than warm, slightly sweaty even. He left a relieved sigh as colder air touched his back, but he seemed to be alright to begin with. “...That’s good.”
Bertholdt chuckled, looking down. “Yes, your highness,” he nodded at her, slightly embarrassed. “I should put my shirt back on…”
Annie caught his gaze again, eyebrow raised. “You are practically boiling here. You should cool off.”
Bertholdt’s lips lined against each other, unable to maintain eye contact with her. She didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, and she had no intent of going into contention with him about it (if contention with Bertholdt was possible, anyway), but things were made clearer when he spoke.
“...If anyone enters, it would give them the wrong impression, your highness.”
It was almost fascinating to realize his shoulders were also growing red as he spoke. In her mind, she often wondered if he was self-conscious of her specifically, but somehow, it clicked to her that wasn’t the case. Maybe he was shy at her presence, but it wasn’t her he was too aware of. It was of people who watched.
Bertholdt didn’t break or bend the rules. Not often, not without a reason, anyway. Maybe being appropriate was even a priority in his mind. But he was sitting in a princess’ chamber, covered with wounds, sitting on standby.
She wasn’t a good reason to break the rules, but more often than not, she didn’t care for what was good, or what was a reason at all.
Annie looked down at her bloodstained shirt. She finally let herself sit by him instead of crouching, her bum pressed against his thigh slightly, just enough to make his back straightened up. She proceeded to take her shirt off, leaving her with only her training corset to cover.
“Y-your highness–”
“If mine is off, you are damned either way, aren’t you?”
He didn’t have much of an answer to that. His eyes lingering on her body satisfied her ego; the way he couldn’t rip them away from her made heat rise up her back. She wondered if he would only be more enticed seeing her without the corset, too. It was luckily laced at the front, and her fingers came to the laced to work them open.
Speedier than he had been all night, Bertholdt’s hands came on top of her own to make her halt. Her heart dropped at the gesture, and she hesitated to look up. She was fearful of seeing disgust or disapproval, and admittedly, she knew it made her into the selfish mess she was known to be, but it still scared her to think she might’ve ruined the one relationship she could actually trust in.
When she did raise her eyes to him, she was met with a more careful, flushed expression than she expected. His thumb caressed her bonier fingers and relief washed over her body as courage surged again. If she understood, his eyes were questioning her if it was really all okay, and so, she answered accordingly.
Annie released herself from his grip to form one on him, her fingers rising to guide his fingers to the lacings, beckoning him to loosen them. His eyes were wide for a brief moment, but he complied, and the sound of saten coming undone made her almost shiver.
Her hands came to his chest as he worked it out. She liked the firmness of his body, but she was more interested in his weaker spots, flicking at his nipple. A soft sigh left him as she played with him, circling and slightly pinching.
She felt the corset slipping off of her and her movement halted, feeling the cold air in the room against bare skin. Annie wanted him to see, so she kept herself upright, but Bertholdt’s hands came up to hold her right under her shoulder blades, and the heat emanating from his palms convinced her in.
Annie closed the gap between them, chest to chest, making sure to not press into his wound. She felt her core pulse at their proximity, and perhaps also soft sighs he gave her. He was always so generous, but she didn’t need him to be generous today.
She brought his lips against his. Chest to chest and lips to lips, she thought he would turn to nervous goo in her arms, but there was something unbelievably grateful in the way he held her face to kiss her back. It was more fervent than she expected, to the point it was almost sloppy too, but even when his tongue met hers, he made sure to play on her terms.
It wasn’t a shower of kisses, it was a natural rain, the builded up for so long that the heavy cloud couldn’t keep it in any longer.
She clung onto his shoulders and braced it all.
“Your, highness,” he started breathing out in between kisses. Annie didn’t find herself liking her title being used much now, so she bit on his lower lip, surprising him to a stop.
“That’s not my name,” she told him, and proceeded to command, hand pressing hard on his throat. “Use my nam e.”
“A-Annie,” he said, making flashes of heat running through her. He never called her by her name without some title before it, and finally, it felt like he was speaking to her personally. She gave him a pleased hum, and he connected their faces by the forehead, noses touching and hot breaths causing sensory overload. “I love you.”
Her heart clenched. She always knew it to some degree, even if she didn’t understand it, even if she tried to convince herself it was just a commonplace fantasy for any commoner; but it didn’t feel like he was speaking to his failure of a future queen, he was talking to her .
Bertholdt flinched as he moved a bit too much when he adjusted himself against the wall, holding her close to him still. His affection to her wasn’t sensible, a plight all on its own. Annie wasn’t one to listen to plights, usually; she was down in her own dumps and she wasn’t sure if she was made to lead or make amends with just about anything, but just for today, just in this specific case, she was incentivized to act.
She wasn’t sure how she felt quite yet, and she won’t say anything just to appease, but even if she can’t alleviate his heartache tonight, she can distract him from physical pain.
Annie nodded, and kissed him on the mouth one more time. After that, her hands went to his breeches, which were already tented from his hardness. He jolted as she started pulling on the strings of it to get them off.
His hand came to her thigh, nervously wrapping around it in a squeeze, and she was unsure if he wanted a pause or if to encourage her, but she guessed it was the latter, with the way he started kneading it softly.
Loosening the drawstrings, the tips of her fingers came beneath his pants. He lifted himself slightly up, struggling slightly with the pain. Annie didn’t waste his time and helped the garment down, letting his cock out. Bertholdt panted, and she took time to take him in.
This was the first time she saw the ‘private’ male anatomy outside of the raunchy paintings that were called the classics. A princess had to be sheltered in some way or another, after all. She supposed that the paintings were censored in some way, because the size surprised her slightly, and the way it was erected, too. Annie touched it tentatively, finger pads teasing at the hooded top.
Frustrated red at the face, Bertholdt tried to come closer to her; she could only assume to kiss her, but she pushed his chest back with her free hand. After his back hit the wall, she trailed the finger just by his wound. “Lay back, this time.”
He whined in return, obliging her but running his hand through messed up black hair. She enjoyed how riled up he was, stomach rising up and down with ragged breaths. The slightest bits of white substance coming from the tip of his cock caught her eye, and she decided she wanted him within her grasp until he bursted with satisfaction.
Annie played with the slit on its top, and any more precum that came out became a lubricant. She swirled it around, and explored the veins on the length of his cock. Bertholdt seemed enamoured with her as he watched, so she made sure to glance up at him intently each moan he gave out. His cock twitched and his hips thrusted up, and she took it as a hint to start pumping him more unsparingly.
“A-Annie..” he moaned, beads of sweat forming at his temples. His hands that were on her thigh were slowly crawling up, squeezing at her hard to keep himself at bay. She huffed at it; she didn’t want him to keep himself restrained.
She wasn’t any type of a good royal; but Annie decided she can be benevolent, too.
Thinking of whispers her maids never realized were too loud, Annie turned onto her stomach and brought her head down, she started kissing at his tip. He whined again, louder than before, and it prompted her to open her lips and take him into her mouth. It started with just taking in his tip, slowly getting used to the salty taste of skin and cum, but she quickly grew arrogant; how could she not, when he was squirming underneath her like that?
She tried to take more of him, hollowed cheeks trying their best to fit more of him in her mouth, but she clearly overestimated herself as she felt his cock touching the back of her throat. She lifted her head and coughed out.
Bertholdt’s palm came to the nape of her neck as she stabilised her breath and took away sweaty locks of hair from there. He looked beyond himself already, but apologetic. Annie huffed; as if he had anything to apologize for. Annie realized his affectionate touches were giving her a pass to quit, but on this one occasion where she decided to tend to another’s troubles, she didn’t mean to keep them unsolved.
Going back down to his cock, she took him to his mouth again. She was bound to do it sloppily as the novice she was, but she didn’t care. She bobbed her head on as much as she could, and left the rest for her hand, determined.
“Ahhh… ” a lengthy moan came out, one that ran straight down her spine and made her want to do it quicker for more; but the hand on the back of her neck now came up to her hair, fingers threaded in her locks, making her go slow; deep.
Finally, he showed what he wanted .
His pants grew more haggard by the minute, and as she sucked down just to drive him up the wall even further, she felt his cock twitch. His grip on her blond strands was tight. When his hips started thrusting up more rapidly, she felt him trying to hint to her to come off of him with his other hand, but she insisted to stay put and waited.
Shooting into her mouth, Annie took in and swallowed what she could. The symphony of a pleasured shout came in the same moment she tasted the salty substance of his cum, but it was just as sweet of a victory as she could get.
All of Bertholdt’s muscles relaxed, and his green eyes were dazzled and practically fucked out as he tried hard to catch his breath. Annie’s chest heaved itself, lifting herself back to sitting on her side, watching the result of her ministrations proudly. Catching her eye, he brought his hands forward to pull her towards him.
He kissed unabashedly, despite the drips of his fluids in her mouth and on his lips. There wasn’t much strength in his limbs anymore; she could tell he was tired, but he was passionate nonetheless.
When he finally left her lips, now looking as messy as she was, his first concern was almost a given. “Annie, now, you..”
Annie huffed, and shook her head. While she wouldn’t oppose more satisfaction on her side, she wanted to keep this day as it was; the one day she was allowed to be the kind princess that thought about others, first. It might’ve not been in her cards for the future, but in his scars and belief in her, she found ambition.
“Sleep, now,” she told him, cleaning off the sticky matter that was left by their kiss with her thumb. Bertholdt seemed to have wanted to protest, but she didn’t let him. Annie turned and settled against the wall beside him, head curling against his shoulder. “I will have my time, another day,” she whispered to his ear, and he melted against her. “So let yourself heal before it comes.”
Bertholdt curled to her with his head, and out of convenience, she ended up in his lap, held close to his chest.
She will have her day to be selfish, and even in this farce of a kindness, she still was selfish; but when Bertholdt’s eyes fluttered shut, a gentle, tired smile present on his face, she turned into the skin of his neck and smiled softly too,
She might’ve been a grievance to her entire kingdom and this entire world, but in this room, she was anything but.