Arthur Leclerc X Male Reader - Tumblr Posts
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pairing(s): prince! Arthur Leclerc x male! knight! reader
warning(s): hurt/comfort, mentions of injury, mentions of death, royal au! forbidden romance(?)
(a/n): kinda inspired by hozier :) changed the lyrics a bit. a short drabble for my fav leclerc
!not proofread!
"No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to you."
"Your Highness," you manage out through gritted teeth, "you shouldn't get your hands dirty."
He says nothing, silently applying the green paste he made using different medicinal herbs, across your middle. "My prince," you try again. He doesn’t respond, his eyes trained on your body, careful not to hurt you.
"Arthur," your voice is soft, almost like a whisper. He looks up, his ocean eyes clashing with yours.
"I told you not to go," he whispers, a hint of betrayal. He goes back to focusing on your wounds. You smile ever so slightly. "Your Highness-" his eyes snap to you, daring you. "Arthur," you say softly, "I do not have a choice in such matters. I have to go when I am called."
He chews the inside of his cheeks. There has to be some way he could prevent you from going to battles. He was a prince after all, wasn't he? "This is what I was raised for," your voice cuts off his thoughts.
"No," he says sharply, preventing any further discussion. He gets up from where he was kneeling, using a gauze to wrap around your wounds. He moves to stand in between your legs, still careful to not hurt you.
He's close. Right within your reach. You could feel his breath across your shoulder. His body heat, warming up your naked torso. He moves the gauze over your back, taking a step back to tie it up.
He ties the final knot, his fingers grazing over your body. They're shaking, you notice. "Arthur," your hand reaches to cup his cheek, guiding his eyes to yours. "I'm here," you utter softly, "I'm fine."
"You're fine," he repeats after you, barely audible. His lower lip wobbles. You pull him in, holding him tight.
"You're fine. You're fine. You're fine..."
"My prince," you press a lingering kiss to his forehead, "breathe. Breathe with me."
He clings onto you, his arms wrapped around your broad shoulders, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He breathes, following you. In and Out. In and Out. Slowly.
He pulls away, his eyes moist. "You should lie down," he gently pushes you back on the bed. "Rest," he says. He tucks you in, leaning down to press his lips to yours.
"Stay," you catch his wrist, "Please."
He takes a seat on the bed beside you, leaning against the bed frame. You move, trying not to let out a groan. You rest your head in his lap. His hands find their way to your hair, gently playing with the strands.
"What's wrong?" you question, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Of course, you can read him like an open book. He doesn't respond, his fingers mindlessly playing with your hair.
"My love," you hold his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, "Talk to me."
"One day," he whispers, "I fear, that one day, you won't return home to me."
You say nothing. How could you? He wasn't wrong. It was a possibility. Soldiers die on the battlefield every day. And one day, sooner or later, it would be your turn.
You bring his hand to your mouth, leaving small kisses every where you could reach. "No grave can hold my body down," you murmur against his knuckles, "I'll crawl home to you."
A look into your eyes, and he knew it was the truth. You'll always come back to him.