Angels with Devil smiles

Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction. Anything and everything resembling any real person, living or dead is purely coincidental. And anything that I borrowed from other sources, I'll give that source credit. The plot and chars however are mine.

Title: Angels with Devil smiles

Author Penname: VampyKitty

Warnings: Language mostly, adult men seducing little boys, more to come in other chapters. Bad spelling/Grammar since it is un-Beta-ed.

Parings: Some are established, others are just wanted to be paired together.

Reviews: Seriously not writing any more without a review, so you want chap 4, tell me!!!

Chapter three: Heartbreak for some, love for others.

Do people have any pride anymore? Rave was lucky that he couldn’t see this mess. Women with heavy make-up and big hair. Dresses so low cut and tight that it was amazing that these poor girls haven’t just popped out of them anymore. Feathers, glitter, and jewels, oh my!

The sandy-brown haired king was not only bored but wishing that a troll, a dragon or something just popped up just so to end this bridal sideshow. Judging how his little brother hadn’t said anything for the past hour or tried to set something on fire, showed that he was passed out in the chair beside him. Lucky bastard must have snatch some sleeping pills from Darrel before coming here. He wished he can get away with sleeping.

The matchmaker, scariest woman on the planet by the way, would have fried his balls and put his head on a pike if she saw that the king was passed out. He had chills going down his spine whenever those heavy painted blue eyes glanced his way. The old hag was setting up kings with their queens since time began and there was no way, that he was going to get out of it.

Not without the use of a silver stake and a priest anyway.

He laid his chin on a balled up fist, propping his elbow on the lion’s head craved into the armrest of the old thrown. Dark blue eyes, barely open as a maybe bride (the girl wasn’t even eighteen for Gods’ sake!) did a little dance from her native homeland, maybe trying to win him over with how flexible she could be or to show off her very big assets. He rolled his eyes and sighed, poking at a swinging braid that was hanging freely from his best friend’s head as he continue to rest his head on his own fist.

Mmm, now if he had his way, he would be courting a little blonde alchemist that did a wonderful trick at breakfast this morning, involving some mixture of baking soda and vinegar and turned some hoity-toity Noble’s juice into a mini-volcano. Now that was someone he can see himself living out the rest of his days with. The little blonde was precious to look at and a joy to talk to. His day wasn’t complete till he made the little doe eyed man smiled and blushed and giggled.

But alas, the laws of the Île verte clearly state that he married a woman in order to rule with a Queen at his side and have a bunch of little heirs to secured the bloodline. So unless the alchemist can do a nifty little trick that involved him popping out a boy or two, they can never be.

Besides, he heard from Ryoma that Darrel was crushing on one of Bowen’s men. So even if the laws were different, the blonde wasn’t his to take. Now he understood why his little brother was always jumping in other people’s bed when all he ever wanted was the werewolf. He did it to hide his heartache of never being with the one that he loved.

He sighed sadly as he turned his head to stare at the stained glass window that displayed a scene from one of his ancestor’s adventures, the one where he was standing in awe of the White Buck, a creature of mystic powers. The White Buck promised to always watch over Île verte for all time. Its dark eyes just reminded him of the one man that Titus wanted to give his heart to.

He rubbed over the soft fuzz of hair on his chin, thinking if he should help in the plans to give the little blonde the one that he wanted. It would make him happy and that was he wanted for him. Just to be happy with the one that he loved. He would in turn moved on and finally choose someone for himself to be his Queen.

The dark blue eyes rolled back to the front of him, just as the old hag was announcing the next princess or something. Another blonde with dark eyes, jewels lightly placed over her light brown brows with a big ruby placed in the center of her forehead. She was dressed in a ruby red dress that was a bit more modest then what he had been seeing the other women wearing. Her blonde hair wasn’t a big and poufy as the rest of them.

She did have a beautiful smile, not as radiant as a little alchemist, but still beautiful to look at it. Her talent was singing a wonderful but sad ballad in her native tongue. He found himself sitting up, interested in this woman. It was almost magical the way that this woman just glowed, how her voice made him feel so, so blessed just to hear it.

“Madame Poule.” He found himself speaking just as the song ended. The old round hag was hanging on his words, holding her hands together hoping that he had at least chosen a girl to have dinner with. “Show me no more today.” Why does it feel strange to form his words? Like it wasn’t him speaking, but someone else moving his lips and using his voice to speak. “I would like to have dinner with this young lady.” He felt his body moving out of his thrown, his long legs moving towards this angel with the golden voice.

Her smile widen as he took a dainty hand into his own rough hand and lightly brushed his lips against the soft dove white hands.

Madame Poule was busting with pride and victory as she strutted out a ‘Of course, my Lord.” and started pushing the miserable looking women out of the large room. She was planning the dinner for the next evening and already planning to find and drag the head advisor out whatever hole that he was hiding in and start making wedding plans.

The dark haired second advisor snorted and jerked his head up, as the Nobles were talking loudly among themselves about the king finally picking out a bride. He gave a big yawn and rubbed his now cramped up sore neck.

“Whatta I miss?”

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He felt his heart breaking. He knew that it was hopeless to love a man that could never be his but at least there was some hope. But the hope as the news traveling faster then light all over Gemme de Scintillement. He found out when he was walking past a bunch of maids were gathering around a doorway, gossiping like a bunch of magpies.

He walked so fast away from the human magpies, breaking out in a run and then just locking himself in a closet. Big fat tears of heartbreak poured out from his dark eyes as he beaten his fists against the wooded door, wishing that this was a nightmare. If it was a just a bad dream, then he would go after the King and tell him what was in his heart the first thing when he awake.

The tears died away after what seem like hours. His fists bloody and sore from the assault on the poor door. He sniffed and wiped his eyes and nose with his shirt sleeve and pushed back his blonde hair as he breathed in and out calming breath. He calmly opened the door and walked out, with lies already formed on his tongue that something just went wrong in his lab to explain away the redden eyes and beaten up hands. Already planning on praising his secret love, King Titus, on finally picking a princess the next time he saw the brunet.

“Hey, Darrel!”

He turned around with a smile of greeting for the eastern man. “Yes, Ryoma?”

“You got a minute?”

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There he goes again, sweet talking a young man at dinner. A younger brother of Princess Simone that accompanied his sister while she was in Île verte for the next few days. The brat wasn’t even old enough to have his voice drop, god-dammit! His meaty dark hands gripped so hard around the fork that the poor thing bent a little from the pressure.

He had to look away when the blind bastard traced over the boy’s face, to ‘see’ what he look like. There was the seducing grin that made everyone, even him was powerless against it. The man leaned in to whisper something against the boy’s ear, pressing pink soft lips against the soft dove white skin.

Bowen had half a mind to stand out of his chair, grabbed the bastard and throw him over his shoulder and made sure that he knew who he belonged to. But this was a man that slept with the same person only twice. And based on the man’s stories of conquests, he left during the night after fucking some nameless man or woman into the bed before the stains on the poor person’s bed had a chance to dry. So there was no chance that the dark haired bastard would even be there in the morning. Even less of one that he would suddenly be suggesting that they should start courting each other the next day.

The hybrid looked away and watch Corry, his second in command doting on the blushing alchemist. Now that was a happy couple. The knight couldn’t go a minute without nuzzling the cornflower hair or kissing the strange bruises and cuts on the small hands. He had a feeling that they weren’t from an explosion in the Alchemist’s lab but he didn’t bring it up.

Titus was strangely glaring at the redheaded warrior but only in the few seconds that he forced his blue eyes from his maybe bride to be. Then he was back to stare lovingly at the sweet woman. Who by the way didn’t exactly smell right to his sharp nose. It was a strange and weird smell but he can’t just place his finger on it.

Bowen shrugged and picked at his food, still not watching the man he loved with his whole heart seducing a boy that hadn’t been out of diapers for long. He doubted his control over the matter. There would a be a bloody death if he had to watch anymore of the boy blushing while Rave cooed and softly touched his neck and curly blond hair.

That would be bad for the king if his second knight ripped apart his future brother-in-law.

Ryoma was busting with pride, knowing that he had done good today. Darrel was with a nice man who was just doting as he was with his Lexy. And the King found someone that could be his Queen and the love of his life. Now next would be setting up the second and third knight. Before the werewolf start killing poor bystanders.

The chestnut haired man rolled his eyes and attacked poor defenseless peas and carrots with his fork. His lover’s ego as a primo matchmaker (more like primo schemer.) was getting too big for the castle. He would be stuttering for days, prideful as a peacock. Then no doubt start making up plans to get the boneheads together within the next few days.

He rather do the closet bit. If the werewolf accidentally killed the bird-bastard so be it. The advisor doesn’t have time to deal with a couple of boneheads that were too blind to see that they were stupidly in love with each other (pun greatly intended!).

He got the wedding of the Century to plan. There were too many things to do in order to get it all done on the summer solstice. Color themes to pick out, flowers to choose, cakes and food to pick out. He felt an headache coming on just thinking about it.

The giant tanned man sensed his lover was getting an headache, no doubt already got the whole wedding picked out and no-one was sure that the King was going to marry the sweet girl just yet. He pulled the man close, laying him against his broad chest and start messaging the already stressed out man’s temples and lightly cooed sweet nothings in the soft ear.

Well the next few days should be fun for all.
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(A/N) Translations: Poule: hen.
all righty, at least I got the plot going. Still more to come!