Arrow (10th Kingdom)
Fandom: 10th Kingdom
Pairing(s): Queen/Huntsman
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 305
A/N: Written for fleshlycherry in the 2008 Yuletide Challenge, and archived here.
From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew that he would devote his life to her. She never asked him to, not explicitly, but she handed him the fateful bow, and then he was hers. Her Huntsman.
She knew, he was sure of it. But after the pang of initial regret at seeing his young son's body pierced through with the arrow he had shot; after seeing the pleasure spread across the Queen's face, slowly, like trickling water, he knew he would belong to her forever. And he wanted to.
He spent his days hunting in the forest, his heart turning cold as ice. He could feel it hardening, ceasing to beat with the push and pull that normal human emotions should force it to. He began to grow more wild, spend more time in the depths of the wilderness. Emerging only when he knew his Queen would call for him, maybe stroke one perfect finger across his well-worn, eager cheek. Call him 'My Huntsman'.
He began to dream of her. Innocently at first. She would call him to her, and he would solve every problem that should arise. He was a hero, and she was his prize. Soon, however, the fantasies turned much darker. Sometimes she was his prisoner, and they always, always ended with a satisfying release that called to his most primal urges.
Sometimes he thought that she knew, the little smile she would give him almost melted his ice block of a heart enough for it to leap. But he would force away the picture of her in his head as his prisoner, as his temptress, as his lover, and say only, 'it is a pleasure to serve you, my Queen.' She only smiles and he is reminded of what he has known for years--he will never leave her.
Pairing(s): Queen/Huntsman
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 305
A/N: Written for fleshlycherry in the 2008 Yuletide Challenge, and archived here.
From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew that he would devote his life to her. She never asked him to, not explicitly, but she handed him the fateful bow, and then he was hers. Her Huntsman.
She knew, he was sure of it. But after the pang of initial regret at seeing his young son's body pierced through with the arrow he had shot; after seeing the pleasure spread across the Queen's face, slowly, like trickling water, he knew he would belong to her forever. And he wanted to.
He spent his days hunting in the forest, his heart turning cold as ice. He could feel it hardening, ceasing to beat with the push and pull that normal human emotions should force it to. He began to grow more wild, spend more time in the depths of the wilderness. Emerging only when he knew his Queen would call for him, maybe stroke one perfect finger across his well-worn, eager cheek. Call him 'My Huntsman'.
He began to dream of her. Innocently at first. She would call him to her, and he would solve every problem that should arise. He was a hero, and she was his prize. Soon, however, the fantasies turned much darker. Sometimes she was his prisoner, and they always, always ended with a satisfying release that called to his most primal urges.
Sometimes he thought that she knew, the little smile she would give him almost melted his ice block of a heart enough for it to leap. But he would force away the picture of her in his head as his prisoner, as his temptress, as his lover, and say only, 'it is a pleasure to serve you, my Queen.' She only smiles and he is reminded of what he has known for years--he will never leave her.