Monster x Reader: Loyal to the King, Never to the Kingdom

The Kings Wife (Female Version)

You dragged yourself through the balcony doors at dusk, as you had promised.

However, you were regrettably disheveled.

You were not one to rush your work; you could not afford to when every move you made was a matter of life and death. You were careful, but you were not perfect, and this time, one man taking a piss in the woods had resulted in bruises along your legs and a raging headache from exhausting your magic.

The room you entered was the same that the King had built for you at the palace's inception, with a few slight differences. There was no longer a bathtub in the bathroom, it had been cracked in a very unfortunate incident involving an intrepid assassin and enough force to rip a human leg off of a body.

You had opted not to replace it (much to the king's displeasure) and had instead placed a drain in the floor and now cleaned yourself while standing.

You had also removed the dressers, you hung your clothing on a rail to reduce the places something could hide (also something that the King had voiced his dislike of).

The most noticeable change in the room was that the bed had been moved.

Instead of being placed with the headboard to the wall, it was now turned to the side and the headboard had been removed entirely, instead, a thick mat of pillows made up the place where you always sat with your back to the wall. The bed had been turned so that the King could lay with his body spread out and his head in your lap, with the blankets appropriately adjusted so that he could sleep soundly.

That was the only change that he seemed to like, probably because he could stretch out over the blankets.

As soon as you stepped through the window, you noticed that you were not alone.

"My King I-" You froze. "What are you wearing?"

The King was rarely seen outside of his traditional royal regalia, and on the occasion that he was, he normally wore simple linens and leathers for traveling purposes or sparring with you.

Now however, he was wearing something that made your face flush with equal parts trepidation and...arousal.

The King had worn black for your wedding; it was traditional for a monarch, it was a color of power and dedication that represented solidarity with the kingdom. For any other wedding, both parties that married would wear white.

That was what he was wearing as you returned to him: white.

It was a beautiful outfit, made of a cream satin and touching the floor, draped over his shoulders.

You gulped as you realized the back dropped low, exposing the broad expanse of toned muscles that he had worked so hard to develop over the years.

A matching cream veil lay over his dark hair, a thick rope of pearl binding it to his shoulders; they were traditional, simple river pearls, but each of them was obviously chosen with care to exactly match the color of the silk that made his garments.

You stalked forward, hands twitching with the urge to run them down the dip of his spine and pull his hips flush to yours.

But you resisted, and you froze at the look of his eyes, impossibly green and impossibly frightened.

"It's been seven years." His voice came out as a whisper, rougher than you could ever remember it being.

As close as you were now, you could see that there were pearl beads woven into his hair under the veil; it was braided into a traditional plait that you recognized to be from the region that he was born in.