Chapter Text
You looked yourself over in the ornate full-length mirror, frowning at a slight smudge in your eye makeup. You licked your finger and rubbed at the spot in question until it blended into the rest of your flawless visage. You pressed your lips together, ensuring your lipstick was even, then turned to the side, smoothing down the purple silk of your gown around your hips.
“You looked perfect an hour ago. Hurry up!” Nyx called from the other side of your dressing screen.
“An hour ago I was naked,” you responded, grinning into the mirror to make sure there was no lipstick on your teeth.
“Exactly!” Nyx exclaimed.
You rolled your eyes, picking up your clutch and walking over to him. “You’ve never even seen me naked,” you countered. “So how would you know?”
You stepped out from behind the screen and Nyx looked you up and down, letting out an appreciative whistle. “That dress leaves little to the imagination,” he said, making a point to stare at your breasts, “And I’ve seen you in even more revealing ensembles.” He emphasized the last word, moving towards you and placing his hands on your hips. “You look stunning, Stella,” Nyx whispered.
You had to admit, you did look rather beautiful this evening. Your dress was strapless, deep purple (almost black) silk hugging tightly to your curves with a sinfully low back. The dress molded to your frame, holding on to your body by sheer force of will and about two feet of garment tape. The skirt was long, reaching down to your ankles, which were themselves wrapped in the intricate straps of black leather heels. Two dangerously high slits rose up the skirt to give you freedom to move, revealing the smooth skin of your upper thighs. You wore no underwear, because frankly there was no room for it. Your hair was done up in an intricate bun, with a couple of strands hanging loose in front of your face. You wore a simple black velvet choker studded with sharp black crystals, a large gunmetal skull with black diamond eyes hanging from a loop at the center. Your earrings were the same—smaller gunmetal skulls with the same black diamond eyes. You wore a wide gunmetal cuff bracelet, engraved with yet another skull and studded with more black diamonds. On your right hand you wore your mother’s engagement ring, a single perfect diamond set in the darkest metal you had ever seen—you were told it came from inside a meteor.
Nyx looked equally amazing, you couldn’t help but notice. He wore an all black tuxedo, black vest, and a black tie with dark purple skulls embossed in velvet. Each button on his jacket and vest was a black skull. He wore the fingerless black gloves that were a part of his Kingsglaive uniform, and you knew that there was at least one dagger hidden somewhere beneath his tuxedo jacket. He had let you redo his braids, finishing each one with a gunmetal skull bead.
“Looking pretty good yourself, Ulric,” you said playfully, reaching a hand up to tangle in his braids. He pulled you closer, one of his hands moving from your hip to palm your ass.
“I look more like your date than your bodyguard with this fancy outfit they gave me,” he teased, bringing his face within an inch of your own.
“I chose the outfit,” you corrected him, watching the smirk fall from his face. “And you’re my Royal Escort, not my bodyguard.”
Nyx hovered his lips mere millimeters away from yours. “Oh, I see,” he whispered, making sure you could feel his breath on your lips. “Well in that case, maybe I should escort you back over to the bed, Your Highness.” He smirked, his mouth brushing against yours too faint to be considered a kiss, though it still set your blood ablaze. You gasped, pressing yourself tightly against Nyx’s body and closed your eyes, tilting your head up to kiss him deeply. He let out a pleased growl, tongue slipping into your mouth as you worked your lips against his. He brought one hand to the side of your face, cupping your jaw and holding you to him. His fingers dug into the base of your skull, pressing urgently. Nyx pulled your bottom lip into his mouth and bit down, earning a whimper from you.
“Princess, His Majesty will be most displeased if you are late for the event this evening,” Ignis called from outside your bedroom door.
You were reluctant to pull away from Nyx, rolling your hips against him and moving your lips down to suck on a spot below his ear before finally parting. “Well Dad isn’t here, now is he Iggy?” you yelled back through the door. You quickly stepped in front of the mirror to fix your lipstick before opening the door for Ignis. He gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes and as he took in your outfit.
“Really, Your Highness, you know you’re to wear all black to public events.” Ignis frowned. “To say nothing of the amount of skin you are showing.”
“Sorry Iggy, all 52 of my black gowns are at the cleaner’s,” you joked. “Besides, this is almost black, and this color looks much better with my skin tone. I didn’t forget to cover myself with skulls, though!”
Ignis groaned, obviously defeated. He looked up at your hair. “And where is your crown?” he asked, frustration showing in his tone.
You picked up the ornately woven platinum and onyx crown from its pedestal on your dressing table. It, like all of your other jewelry, was studded with diamonds—both black and white. You set the delicate halo on your head, securing the attached combs into your hair. “Thank you for reminding me Iggy,” you said sarcastically, “I don’t know how anyone would be able to tell who I am without this antiquated symbol of my sovereignty digging into my scalp!”
Ignis inhaled sharply. “You are quite welcome, Your Highness,” he said between clenched teeth. He finally turned to acknowledge Nyx. “Mr. Ulric,” he said, bowing in greeting.
Nyx gave a fake little bow. “Nice to see you as always, Iggy boy!”
Ignis’ eyes went wide as he looked Nyx up and down. He turned back to you. “Princess Stella!” Ignis raised his voice. “Why is Mr. Ulric not in his Kingsglaive uniform? He is not a member of the Crownsguard, nor is he associated with the Royal Family. He should not be wearing the Royal Crest all over his clothing! People will get the wrong idea. They may even think he is your date!” Ignis hissed.
“Calm down Iggy!” you replied. “He is my Royal Escort for the evening, which puts him at the same status level as you. Please do be respectful,” you snapped harshly.
“My apologies, Sir Ulric,” Ignis bit out. “Now if that is all, we must be going. All of the guests are waiting.”
You and Nyx followed Iggy out of your room. In the hallway, Nyx offered you his arm, which you gladly took. “Sorry about Iggy,” you whispered in Nyx’s ear, “I think he knows we were making out and he feels like every embarrassing thing I do reflects directly on him. As if he could control what I do.” You laughed.
“I bet I could control you, Princess,” Nyx whispered seductively, lips brushing against the delicate skin of your ear. A shiver went down your spine. Nyx never called you Princess, always using your name in private and calling you Your Highness in front of others. Hearing your title from Nyx’s wicked lips felt forbidden and sensual, like walking in on something you weren’t meant to see but being unable to look away. You could feel Nyx smirk against your ear; he knew exactly the effect he was having on you. “Why don’t we play a game?” he asked suggestively.
Your relationship with Nyx was complicated, yet simple. You’d met him ten years earlier, when you were 11 and he was 18. It was shortly after your family’s return from Tenebrae, and your younger brother Noctis was still recovering from the daemon attack. Nyx was a new recruit in the Kingsglaive, a refugee that your father had saved years earlier in Galahd. Captain Drautos was impressed with Nyx’s natural talent for magic, but the young soldier had some authority issues. As punishment for disobeying orders, your father suggested that Nyx act as your personal bodyguard. Noctis had his Shield, Gladio, but you’d never had a personal guard—you simply had a regiment of the Crownsguard with you whenever you left the palace. Nyx was to stay with you at all times, except when you were in your personal quarters. If Nyx thought guarding an 11-year-old princess was going to be boring, 5 minutes with you absolutely changed his mind.
Your father, wise man that he was, figured that if anyone could handle his rebellious daughter, it would be the spirited young Glaive. Nyx was advised to use any means necessary to keep you in line, outside of violence. When you escaped his watch after only 5 minutes, leaving him with his boots fastened together and one of his daggers missing, he began plotting the worst punishments he could imagine for you. When he finally found you, 2 hours later, hiding on top of a bookcase in the palace library with a stack of comic books and a box of donuts, he couldn’t help but laugh. Perhaps you two would get along better than he’d thought. Nyx soon learned that the way to get you to do what he wanted wasn’t to order you around. He had to bargain with you, usually bribing you with junk food, comic books, and videogames. Once you had something you wanted, you were actually quite reasonable, and would do most things if asked nicely.
After a few weeks of bodyguard duty, Nyx was sent back to the Kingsglaive, and you returned to torturing your Crownsguard retinue. It wasn’t long until Nyx was back again, though. Every time he got into trouble he earned himself two to four weeks of Royal bodyguard duty. As much as he made a big deal about it to the other Glaives, groaning and complaining each time he was sent off to the palace, it was far from a punishment for him. You ended up becoming good friends, and King Regis was impressed with how well you behaved with Nyx around, which ended up being once every few months or so. This lasted for a few years, even though your father knew almost immediately that the arrangement was no punishment for Nyx; Drautos tried to convince the King that Nyx wasn’t learning his lesson, that he needed a harsher regimen of punishments to nip his behavior issues, but Regis just ignored the Captain’s complaints.
When you were 15, your father decided you would learn warping and combat magic. They were powers normally reserved for the Kings (and Princes) of Lucis, but he saw no reason why his oldest child shouldn’t learn the magic of her ancestors. It was, after all, your heritage and your birthright. Not every female child of Lucis had to become a mage. You had already been doing combat training for years, so adding magic to the routine wouldn’t be that difficult. However, the toll the war was having on the Wall reflected greatly on your father, aging him beyond his years and sapping him of his strength. He had to reserve what little spare power he had left to teach Noctis magic, as it would be his duty as King to maintain the Wall. Because such a responsibility did not and would not fall to you, King Regis enlisted the help of someone almost as skilled in magic as himself to teach you, someone he trusted with your life and his own.
One day after classes, you walked into the royal training room and saw Nyx instead of your usual combat instructor. You walked over to the Glaive, who was attacking a practice dummy with wooden daggers. “In trouble again so soon?” you teased.
He threw one of the daggers at you, which you caught easily with one hand, making Nyx laugh in surprise. “Good, you’re not as bad as I thought you’d be,” he said, throwing the other dagger at you and watching you catch it in your other hand.
“Excuse me?” you questioned.
“I’m not here on bodyguard duty,” Nyx explained. “Your dad asked me to train you in magic. Said I’m the best there is after himself, even better than the Captain.” He gave you a smug smirk.
You rolled your eyes. “Great. So I’ve gotta spend one night a week having you boss me around?”
Nyx grinned. “Try three nights a week, Your Highness, plus Saturdays.”
You groaned. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Nope!” Nyx replied. “And I’m getting paid overtime for it too.”
“Fine. Let’s just hurry up and get this over with. I’ve got homework.” You sighed.
As promised, you trained with Nyx four times a week, replacing your regular combat practice. You could easily see why everyone was so impressed with him—he used magic so naturally, like he was born with it. The way he moved, his warping so fluid and effortless, was amazing to watch, even beautiful. There was an art to the way he summoned spells, turning flames or ice over in his hands as if absentmindedly twirling a pen. He was a good teacher, and even your father was impressed with how much you were learning from the Glaive. You came to enjoy training, practicing long into the night after Nyx had gone home, trying to perfect your moves so that you could show off to him during your next session. Somewhere along the way you developed feelings for Nyx that were more than friendly. You found yourself stealing glances at him from across the room, staring at his perfect body in the tight tank top and lowcut sweatpants he favored for training. You couldn’t help but stare when a particular movement caused his clothing to move, revealing the sharp cut of his hips or the rippling lines of his abs. If he noticed your appreciative gaze, he didn’t say, but he did grow frustrated when you increasingly lost focus during practice.
You were 17 the first time you kissed Nyx. You had just pinned him to the ground during an intense warp chase at the Glaives’ outdoor practice facility. The facility was actually a city block full of abandoned, crumbling buildings in the oldest part of Insomnia. They’d been damaged by a gas explosion years before, and rather than repair the damage they simply rebuilt in newer areas of the city. You’d caught Nyx on the top floor of one of the skyscrapers—what looked like the remains of a penthouse apartment. You managed to get one of Nyx’s arms under his back, pinning his elbow with your knee. His other arm you held down at his side, holding him down with all of your strength, your dagger against his throat.
He laughed, truly pleased that you’d beaten him, and the way his eyes sparkled when you dropped your dagger took your breath away. You couldn’t help yourself, and before you knew it you were pressing your lips against Nyx’s. It wasn’t your first kiss, not by far, and you kissed him deeply, mouth open and hand reaching up to tangle in his braids. For a moment Nyx reciprocated, even running his tongue along your bottom lip, before suddenly pushing you away. “Stella…” he whispered, lifting you off of him and sitting up next to you. “You know we can’t. I can’t. I’ll be fired, or worse, executed.”
“That’s not going to happen,” you assured him. “If you don’t want to, I’ll understand. But I can’t help it, I just want to kiss you. We’re the only ones here. No one’s going to know.”
Nyx pulled you into his lap, hands cupping your jaw as he looked into your eyes. “I do want to,” he said softly, “I’m just afraid that once I start, I’m not gonna wanna stop.”
“Okay,” you whispered. He was on you in an instant, lips moving passionately against your own. One hand moved to the back of your neck to pull you in, the other snaking around to the small of your back to hold you tightly to him. You stayed like that for what felt like hours, arms wrapped tightly around Nyx’s neck, his stubble creating a delicious friction against your skin as you lost yourself in kissing him. When you finally made it home you were love-drunk, intoxicated with lust. You pleasured yourself to thoughts of Nyx, imagining how the stubble on his cheeks would feel between your thighs, how his tongue (discreetly pierced) would feel against your slick flesh, how the hard length you’d ground down against would feel inside of you. When you came screaming his name, you realized you had it bad for the man.
Your training with Nyx continued over the next few years, though as the war with Niflheim grew more intense, he was often called away on the most dangerous missions. His reckless courage and refusal to leave anyone behind earned him the moniker “Hero,” one you constantly reminded him of. Your relationship didn’t really change—you were still close friends, he was still your trainer and occasional bodyguard. In the rare moments that you found yourselves away from potential onlookers, you spent every second possible with your lips locked, bodies pressed frantically together, touching each other everywhere that could be reached through clothing. You weren’t sure if you loved Nyx or just loved being with him, but since that first kiss you hadn’t had much interest in other men (or women, for that matter). He was the only one you wanted to be with in that way, though you had no idea how he felt or if there was someone else in his life.
Nyx had been away for the past several months, helping lead the Kingsglaive in the biggest, most intense battle of the war to date. He had only just returned, after sending Niflheim into a full retreat and securing Lucis’ victory in the war. Tonight was a celebration of that victory—a grand dinner and ball that you were to host while your father was in Altissia, negotiating the terms of Niflheim’s surrender. Nyx had only gotten back a few hours earlier, and you had immediately requested a private audience with the Glaive to congratulate him. In actuality you had backed Nyx up against the door, pressing your body to his and kissing him fervently, trying to express with your body how worried you had been and how much you had missed him. After a desperate tangle of lips and limbs you pulled away, asking Nyx to be your guard for the ball. He had of course agreed—who was he to deny the Crown Princess of Lucis?
“I want to be with you tonight,” you’d whispered in Nyx’s ear, “In every way possible. I’m tired of hiding and I don’t care who knows, I need you, Nyx.” He’d answered you with a kiss, slower and softer but with no less passion than before. You’d sent him to get his outfit for the evening while you prepared for the ball.
As much as you tried to deny it, tonight you’d brought Nyx with you as your date, not your escort or guard. As you approached the giant doors leading to the grand hall, you pulled your arm out from Nyx’s, instead taking his hand in yours and twining your fingers together. He gave you a playful smirk, repeating his earlier question. “So, Princess, what do you say? Are you up for a little game?”
You nodded and he stopped walking, leaning as close to you as possible and whispering against your ear. “I’m going to do whatever I can to make you whimper and moan in front of all these people. If you can keep yourself quiet all night, I’ll take you upstairs, rip that dress off of you, and give you a nice little reward.”
You shivered, feeling heat pool in your face and between your legs. “And if I do make noise?” you asked.
“Let’s just say you’ll be the one giving me the reward,” Nyx purred.