Guilty Pleasure — The Moon {BK Regency Fic Pt. 2}

1.5M ratings
277k ratings

See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna

The Moon {BK Regency Fic Pt. 2}

OK guys! Here is the second part to The Tudor-esque Bonkai fanfiction; it encompasses the original excerpt. I’m nervous about it because I feel like you all have high expectations for this fic, haha, so please tell me if I meet them. The dialogue and dynamics are REALLY fun to write so that’s what I focus most on us and not historical accuracy, in fact absolutely nothing is historically correct so people keep that in mind when you inbox me questions, haha.

The first part: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/151942784000/the-gambit-bk-regency-pt-1

The tags: @bonkai-diaries @kissmebluesexyvioletsme @misslilmel @humbu-bumbu @wasabicakes @youareatypo @bonkai-is-life @bonkaimonluv @malachaibennett @darkbonkai @jordanjanellejoy @bonkaicoven @bonkais-witchywoo @bonkais-aurora-borealis @writeturnlove @tvtaughtmehowtofeel @mysticfalls-originals @offlinebonkai @queensfelicity @tasha-sews @ecksnohhs @sunnydrive92 @l0nd0ninnit @lisaluvslife @seeyda @beccacupcakesxo @giggleangel

image

*not my gif*

“You can’t hide the thunderbolt. When it hits you, everybody can see it. Christ, man, don’t be ashamed of it, some men pray for the thunderbolt. You’re a lucky fellow.”

— Mario Puzo, The Godfather

Malachai’s expression was one of stony displeasure as a servant showed him the features of his bedroom in the guest apartments. It was a gaudy disaster and he took it as an indication of what to expect during his visit. He was advised to make peace, to strive for renown rather than infamy. Infamy was the word his advisors used, he described his plan to thoroughly cripple, eviscerate the Neapolitan army  as one that would bring him fearful reverence and one that would be remembered throughout history. Naples had started it after all; assassinating his uncle was cause enough for war. Alas, no one wanted war or bloodshed, to bear the guilty conscience of death, to bear the brunt of raising taxes to support an army.    

“Your appetite for war is understandable, you still have your youth and you have the heart of a lion,” they’d said. “But you must ask yourself if war is beneficial to the country, for are you not a king who loves his people, your Royal Heinous?”

Idiots. He didn’t have the heart of a lion; there was no beast that could compete with his ferocity. Yet he tempered his passions. For the good of the country. He signed a treaty and promised his sister to the son of King Matteo. A compromise he’d regretted from the moment he arrived in this godforsaken kingdom.

The servant extended his hand to the bed. “A bed fit for a king.”

“His Majesty sleeps in a bed twice that size,” said a voice.

Malachai smirked and glanced quickly to his right; Charles Tyler, his confidant, stood next to him, staring the servant down.

“My apologies, your Grace, we had thought—”

“Never mind. I’ll take it from here. My belongings are in my apartment I imagine.”

    “Yes, Your Grace.” The servant shifted on the spot, opened his mouth then closed it. He cleared his throat. “There is another matter. To show his hospitality and to welcome you to the great kingdom of Naples, His Majesty King Matteo urges you to sample some of our land’s … delicacies…”

The servant clapped his hands twice and the overly-ornate doors opened. A woman stepped into the room, rosy-cheeked and cream-skinned; her blonde curls dropped past her shoulders, her face delicate like porcelain.  Malachai stirred.

“Your Majesty,” she said, bowing.

He stared at her for a beat, imagining her bare-breasted and on her back, screaming as he thrust into her on that laughably small bed.  He turned to the servant. “What does your master take me for?”

“Your Majesty?”

“Does he believe I need help bedding a woman?” said Malachai, his voice rising. “Does he believe me incapable? Impotent?”

“No, of course not. Your Majesty—”

“From what I hear, King Matteo should do some sampling of his own!” Malachai’s face had flushed red with anger, his voice just below a thunderous tenor. “Maybe that way he wouldn’t be a cuckold!”

“Your Majesty are you, are you suggesting —”

“That Queen Isabella has a stock of lovers that she beckons to her bedchambers sometimes three at a time! Who’s to say his son is even his, that he deserves the hand of my sister, the princess of England!”

The servant sputtered. “That is — That is —”

“What? That is what?”

Malachai felt a gentle tug on his sleeve  and a hiss in his ear. “Kai,” said Tyler. “We’ve barely been here but an hour isn’t this supposed to be a peaceful visit?”

    He sighed and stared at the kneeling woman. It seemed a waste, not to accept such a gift but Malachai found her presence too offensive to enjoy. “Get out,” he said. “All of you. Except you, Tyler.”

    The servant bowed and started walking backward out the door as the woman followed him. When the door closed, Tyler rounded him, his face bewildered.

“Are you mad? That woman was in a sore need of a good riding and I’ve heard tales of these, how did he put it, Italian delicacies.”

“Then you fuck her,” said Malachai, sinking into a chair.

“With Your Majesty’s permission,” said Tyler, grinning. “I have yet to christen my bed.”

Malachai laughed. “No not now. Later. Tell me what’s on the agenda for today.”

“The day has been left open for Your Majesty to settle in. There will be a feast and masquerade in your honour tonight.”

Malachai groaned. “The Neapolitan people don’t know anything about a good masque.”

“I’m sure Your Majesty’s presence will elevate the affair.”    

“Are you flattering me, Tyler?”

“There’s no flattery in the truth just simple fact.”

Malachai snorted, an acceptance of Tyler’s explanation. “We should go on a hunt then. Tell them to ready the horses.”

Tyler bowed his head slightly. “Your Majesty.”


                                                 __________

Bonnie had just finished fastening her mask when Elena glided into her apartment, draped in gold silk, a white feathered mask adorning the top half of her face. Bonnie turned to look at her and Elena gasped.

“Bonnie, you’re a spectacle,” she said, taking in the deep crimsons and scarlets of her petticoats. She reached forward and touched the bejeweled swan mask. “You look absolutely striking.”

    “And you, dear sister,” said Bonnie. “Beautiful as always. Gold is definitely your colour.”

    Elena giggled as she lowered her hand and started rooting through Bonnie’s dresser for a necklace. “It’s nice being back at court, I didn’t realize how much I missed it.”

    “Or how many of your old admirers are here,” said Bonnie, smirking. “I’m surprised no one has proposed yet.”

    “Well the night is still young,” said Elena as she draped a gold necklace around Bonnie’s neck and fastened the clasp. “Father said that three men have asked to call on me tomorrow.”

    “Be sure to dance with one of them tonight,” said Bonnie. “Only one, though. You’re enchanting when you dance.”

    “As are you,” said Elena.

    “Tonight is not about me. It’s about you, your charms, and you must display them or risk our father’s displeasure.”

    “Do you really believe King Malachai will notice me?”

    Bonnie smiled and touched Elena’s cheek. “I wish he wouldn’t,” she said. “This will not be easy, Elena. Alas, everyone notices you.”

    Elena opened her mouth to respond when the door banged open. Damon appeared in the entryway, dressed in a brown doublet with russet hose, and a gold mask that covered most of his face. “Elena, Bonnie,” he said, bowing slightly.

    Elena curtseyed. “Damon.”

    “Cousin,” said Bonnie.

    “Elena, you look ravishing,” said Damon. He walked toward her and put his hands on either side of her face. “Every eye in the room will be on you.”

    “I’m afraid only the one eye, for the other will be gazing at Bonnie with wonder. Does she not look spectacular?”

    Damon glanced at her and his lips parted slightly. He cleared his throat. “Sensational,” he said.

    “You flatter me,” said Bonnie blandly. “Shall we make our way to the hall?”

    “Of course.” Damon crooked both of his elbows so that Elena took one arm and Bonnie took another.  As they walked out of the apartment down the corridor, he whispered in Bonnie’s ear. “Did you prepare her?”

“This is not what Elena needs help with,” Bonnie whispered back. “As you said she can be noticed easily enough, it’s afterward that she may need my guidance.”

    “I would not have you leave her side until she’s been beckoned by one of the king’s servants.”

    “Oh?” said Bonnie. “And here I thought I was coming to court to find a suitable husband. Is that not what you said, cousin?”

    “Would you like to have this conversation with your father?”

    Elena’s voice interrupted them. “What are you two conspiring about?”

    “Nothing, dear sister,” said Bonnie.

    “I was only telling Bonnie not to be so envious of your beauty,” said Damon. “It’s only natural that the sun outshines the moon.”

    Bonnie stared ahead and said nothing.


                                                      ___________

The hall was already alive with chatter and music when Bonnie, Damon and Elena entered.  Not a single person was without a mask or a glass of wine; the crowds milled around the dance floor and grouped themselves in corners, toasting and gossiping and colluding. The flickering candles upon the chandelier created an intimate atmosphere despite the vastness of the room and Bonnie watched lazily as men bowed to her sister with each step she took, how women simpered at her cousin, hopeful to be noticed, ignorant of his ways. Bonnie sussed out a few eyes upon her, gazing at her with an intent, with a covetousness that darkened their expressions.  She knew she should be scouting for a husband, someone to tie her fortunes to but it seemed impossible amidst the weight that burdened her mind.

“My lady.”

A man appeared before her, bowing with his arms stretched outward. She recognized his voice and her eyes widened beneath her mask as she allowed him to take her hand and kiss it.

“Lorenzo,” said Damon. “Is that you under there?”

He turned to Damon and bowed his head slightly. “Good ear.”

“Lorenzo,” said Elena, smiling, as he moved to kiss her hand. “I didn’t know you had come to court.”

“I was fortunate enough to find a patron,” said Lorenzo, turning back to Bonnie. “I have interests here.”

Bonnie clenched her teeth. “I don’t see your lute. Will you be playing something for His Majesty?”

“Should he wish it once he and the King of England arrive.”

“I can’t wait,” said Damon. “You’re very talented, Lorenzo. But if you would excuse us, I think I have just seen my uncle.”

“Give Alaric my regards,” said Lorenzo. “Elena. Bonnie.” He bowed again before stepping to the side allowing the trio to pass.

“I think Lorenzo has taken a bit of a fancy to you, Bonnie,” said Elena.

    “Indeed,” said Damon coldly.

    They had made it to the front of the hall, as close as they could to the high table where they saw a man with white hair standing in front of it, sipping deeply from his wine goblet. Bonnie reached forward and touched his back. “Papa,” she said.

    “My dear daughters.” He kissed Bonnie once on each cheek and then did the same to Elena who let go of Damon’s arm to greet her father. He clasped Elena by the hands and smiled at her. “Do you like being back at court?”

    “Yes, Papa. Very much.”

    “Hopefully you’ll return to the English court soon by His Majesty’s invitation.”

    “Where is His Majesty?”

    “Fashionably late of course. These things never start on time,” said Alaric. He lowered his voice. “Has your cousin spoken to you, Elena?”

    She smiled nervously and nodded.

    “Excellent and should everything go according to plan, I would like you to be … generous with your charms. Am I understood?”

    Bonnie cleared her throat derisively and Alaric turned to her. “Aid your sister in whatever she needs.”

    Even beneath his mask, Bonnie could picture the cold fury in her father’s eye, the one that dared disobedience only to serve punishment. It was a look she was accustomed to and one she couldn’t help but strive to banish, for the warmth that softened his face when she pleased him was a reward she unwillingly held dear.

    “You and I share the same disposition,” he’d said to her once. “It’s a pity you were not born a son.”

    Bonnie bowed slightly. “I will do so, Papa.”

    As soon as the words left Bonnie’s mouth there was a loud banging and a loud voice. “Your Majesties, King Matteo of Naples and King Malachai of England.”

    Almost in unison everyone in the room bowed as Malachai and Matteo walked up the platform to their seats at the high table. As one of the servants pulled out a chair for Malachai to sit in, he chanced a glance around the room, peering out from behind his mask to the court beneath him. His eyes found a lady in red, she was in the process of readying herself to bow with the other courtiers but stopped when her eyes found his mask the same instant his found hers. Malachai stared at her,

    Bonnie couldn’t move. It was a grave offence to stand before royalty without permission to do so, just short of treason, of blasphemy even but she was rendered still by his gaze; in awe of his stature, cloaked in a deep velvet black so that he appeared embraced by night sky. His stare enlivened her, compelled her heart to thud so intensely she was sure it would crack her chest; she couldn’t see his eyes and yet they swallowed her whole and everything inside her screamed for her to bow and save her head, save her family’s dignity but she couldn’t move because if she did, she would be spit back out.

    Someone beside her coughed. “My God,” Bonnie whispered. Hastily she bowed.

    “Your Majesty?” said Matteo, smiling. He was already sitting down.

    Malachai blinked a couple of times, shook his head slightly and took his seat. When his sister, Josephine, sat as well, the courtiers rose. Damon and Alaric glared at Bonnie as she stood up.

    Matteo began to speak, welcoming Malachai to the palace, expressing his relief and happiness that their two countries weren’t going to war. Bonnie normally paid attention to these proceedings, the language used,  it provided insight on the state of the world and by proxy the state of her family, the state of her own well-being, but concentrating on anything other than the strong jaw of the King, his black stubble, his full lips, it was an impossibility.  

Bonnie willed herself not to stare too intently, not to cause further embarrassment, display anymore brazenness, but she could no sooner pluck out her eyes;  each time the King glanced her way and met her gaze, no matter how briefly, her entire body seemed to pulsate; her belly dropped and she felt faint, as if she were descending into darkness. Surely, this was what death felt like? And yet each time he looked away, she silently begged him to find his way back to her.

    There was laughter and clapping. Bonnie had no idea what happened but Malachai had stood up to shake Matteo’s hand. Before she could bring herself firmly back to reality, there was a grip on her wrist and she was being dragged sideways to a corner of the room.

    Damon whispered furiously. “Have you lost your senses? You didn’t bow to the King of England!”

    “I did bow!”

    “Not immediately. The whole court is going to be talking about this!”

Bonnie opened her mouth to argue but sighed instead; she felt dizzy, intoxicated. “I know. It was most irregular. He just looked at me and …”

Her breathing became ragged, her eyesight blurred and she flattened her palm against her chest. “And it …”

She thought back to the afternoon before, to staring up at the sun until its rays were too bright for her to bear.  “I can’t breathe,” she said. “Damon, I can’t breathe.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked up to the high table. “He’s still looking at you, Bonnie. The King’s eye … it doesn’t leave you for long.”

    “I know,  I can feel it everywhere, burning me, I … my skin is … I just …”

    Damon placed the back of his hand against her forehead. “You’re feverish,” he said. He chewed on his bottom lip. “There’s been a change of plan, you will go in Elena’s stead.”

    “Excuse me?”

    “We were very careful in placing Elena in his direct line of sight and yet his eye keeps finding you, even behind that mask it’s obvious. You have the King’s attention, we would have you do something productive with it.”

    “Damon, I —”

    “Do not forget your duty, Bonnie.”

    “Yes but I —”

    “For the love of God.” Damon clasped her beneath the elbow, pulled her behind one of the many curtains that draped the walls and pushed her against the wall. “You’re enough to drive the sanest man mad, do you know that?” he said through clenched teeth.

    Bonnie stared up at Damon and she could see it in his expression, the same look he would give her on occasion, one she saw all too often in Lorenzo’s eyes.

“Damon…”

    He let go of her and backed away from the wall, putting space between them. Bonnie needed something to do with her hands and so fixed her mask; her fingers trembled and her skin felt stretched tight, she yearned to go back into the hall, back into the crowd so His Majesty could find her again, being obscured from his presence made her want to claw at her skin.  “Most irregular,” she repeated beneath her breath.

    Get a hold of yourself, Bonnie.

    She cleared her throat.  “His liaisons are well known for their brevity, cousin,” she said, returning to her snappish tone. “The King is quite fickle, even if he had me who’s to say it would be for more than a few rendezvous.”

    “Do not play coy, cousin. Elena is right it is most infuriating,” said Damon. “I know you know ways to retain his interest, play his passions. Put them to use. We shall see this family rise, I don’t want to hear anything more about it.”

    There was a shift in music and some more clapping. It was time to dance.

    “I had originally planned to dance with Elena but as our faith now resides in you, you will accompany me in this dance and find your way to His Majesty. Take my arm.”

    Bonnie sighed heavily and the slipped her hand in the crook of Damon’s elbow.


                                                 _____________

It was instant and indescribable all at once — a longing so intense that it momentarily robbed Malachai of breath. His fingertips tingled. His entire body hummed. All he could see was the lady in red, the rest of the court was lost in darkness; he was barely aware of the steps he took across the floor, of his sister Josephine’s hand in his as they danced to the harps and the flutes alike. He no longer belonged to himself.

    Josephine said something; a dispute against her upcoming marriage he was sure but he couldn’t even bring himself to listen idly, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but will his body to sense the lady’s presence in the room. He’d always enjoyed beautiful women, looking at them, ravishing them; his appetite for their company was insatiable and his lust nearly always immediate. Yet this feeling was entirely distinctive from his usual fancies. The masquerade prevented Malachai from seeing the lady’s face; she was a scarlet swan in dresses of crimson but she claimed his attention, possessed his gaze, entirely, unyieldingly. With each step they took toward each other, desire shivered through Malachai and he ached with a readiness, an urgency to claim her, possess her; her body, her soul, her mind, her very being. It was entirely novel, this need to devour, and still it overwhelmed him.

    “Malachai, are you listening to me?” said Josephine.

    “No.”

    “But —”

    “Your king has made his decision. Do not contradict me.”

    “I—”

Malachai extended his hand, twirling Josephine away from him so that she could face her next partner and in her place — the lady. Malachai stared at her, his mouth slightly agape, his gaze piercing through the red mask to her eyes; vivid green and dauntless, a hint of brazenness that made his mouth dry and body harden. He committed everything he could to memory; her dusky complexion and ocean of black hair, dappled and bejeweled with rubies; her lips, a perfect heart, that plagued Malachai with a violent frustration because he was not at that moment kissing them, owning them with his own. Her hand in his inflamed him so that he felt himself sweat; a heat burned beneath his skin and flooded his gut, there was a charge between them, he felt it radiate from her being as much as his.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Bonnie, Your Majesty,” said the lady. “Bonnie Bennett.”

They started to twirl around each other, as close as they could without touching and Malachai was devastated with the sensation, the tension of nearly touching her; he itched to grab her, hold her, to feel her soft skin beneath his hands.

“You’re not Italian,” he whispered.

Malachai’s breathy murumr in Bonnie’s ear caused her to sigh deeply, which in turn made Malachai’s breath catch in his throat.

“No, your Majesty,” said Bonnie, willing her voice to remain steady and unaffected. “However, my sister and I haven’t been in England for a few years.” She circled him as the other women circled their dance partners but Malachai couldn’t help himself and turned his head to follow Bonnie’s movements, to ensure there was never a moment he couldn’t see her.

When she found her way back in front of him, Malachai’s lips parted. He needed to know everything he could about her before the song was over and the dance was done. “You have a sister then.”

“Yes. Elena,” said Bonnie. “I’m sure you’ve noticed her, she’s like the sun.”

“I’ve seen no sun in this court, only the lustrous beauty of the moon.”

Bonnie grinned, trying to find humble words. “I’m sure the sun will rise soon enough in court. I’ve been told it’s only natural that the sun outshines the moon.”

She and Malachai glided toward one another, the noses of their masks nearly touching, his blue eyes piercing into her green ones as they twirled in a tight circle. Bonnie held her breath; she would surely lose herself in his gaze, shivers erupted all along her body, along her arms and back, along her legs and breasts, his stare touched every part of her body. “But is it not true, Lady Bonnie, that the moon eclipses the sun?”

She couldn’t speak.

They spun away from each other and bowed as the music stopped playing. “I expect to see you and your family at the English court soon,” said Malachai.

And before Bonnie could say more than “Your Majesty”, he had turned on his heel and walked back to the high table, his sister’s hand in his.

bonkai grahamwood bonnie bennett kai parker the vampire diaries bonkai fanfiction tvd tvd fanfiction kat graham chris wood bonnie x kai kai x bonnie regency fic anti-tvd anti julie plec anti caroline dries zalrb zalrb fanfiction

See more posts like this on Tumblr

#the vampire diaries #tvd #anti julie plec #bonkai #grahamwood #bonnie bennett #kai parker #bonkai fanfiction #tvd fanfiction #kat graham #chris wood #bonnie x kai #kai x bonnie #regency fic #anti-tvd