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Sibling Rivalry

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You entered your father's chamber to find him already sat by the dinner table along with your older half-brother. Steve shot you a cold look and you returned him an even colder one. 

"Father," you greeted the old man. 

"Steve," you said with distaste.

Steve returned half of a fake smile to you. "Sister."

"Ah, come daughter, sit with us," your father, Warden of Brooklyn, said, pointing at a seat beside him and opposite to Steve.

You sat down without a care of the tension cutting in between you and your half-brother. He was not pleased to see you. The feeling was mutual. He had gone to take the neighbouring lands with a small army of men, and you had expected him to take a little longer to come back to Brooklyn.

"I didn't think you'd return so early, brother," you commented.

"I can assume how disappointed you are, sister," he replied.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I don't think you can."

Your father banged his hand on the table, shaking all its contents, to get both of your attention.

"Enough of your squabbling! You are not children anymore!" He scolded you two.

Steve glanced at you and smirked. "No, we aren't."

He turned his head to your father.

"Calm down, father. This is no squabbling, it's just a little discussion. But let's move over that. Let's come to the real reason for why we are having this meal together," Steve said.

You cocked your head and leaned forward on your chair, looking to your father to hear what he has to say. "What is it father?" You asked him, curiously.

The old man seemed hesitant. He had trouble matching your fiery eyes.

"Go on, father," Steve urged him.

You furrowed your brows at Steve, darting your eyes from him to his older version. You weren't anticipating anything good judging by your brother's excitement.

"Well, my dear (y/n)," your father started, placing his hand on top of yours. "As you know, I am getting older and sick too. We know that my days are numbered. And as my end comes nearer, the issue of choosing the next Warden of Brooklyn also arises."

You widened your eyes at him. It wasn't the discussion that upset you but rather what the end of the discussion would be. Steve was already grinning at you, nothing more was to be said.

"And?" You asked.

"My dear, I have chosen your brother, Steve, as the Warden of Brooklyn. He'll be wed to a suitable lady of another noble house, and he will take over the main governing of Brooklyn, and after I die, he'll get the title of Warden of Brooklyn as well."

You felt the rage boil in your blood, but in response you gave a laughter.

"What? You are choosing him over me?" You questioned.

"It is a hard fact to swallow, but sister you must-"

"Don't interrupt me!" You growled at Steve.

You didn't care for the way his expression darkened. But you did get him to shut up. You turned to your father again with a look of betrayal.

"(Y/n), you have to understand that even though I love you so much, Steve is my first born son, true heir to the seat of Brooklyn," he tried to make you understand.

"And a worthless heir he is! He might be the son, he might be good at swinging his swords at the enemies, but he is in no way capable of ruling the whole of Brooklyn. The Gods didn't bless him with the mind for that and you know that very well father!" 

"Hey, you watch how you speak of me," Steve snapped at you.

You ignored him.

"This is ridiculous. It was I who worked out the strategies to solve the crisis Brooklyn fell in, it was me who gave well advice for the battles. I would make a much better ruler than him and everyone here knows it!" You shouted at them.

Your father was at a loss of words.

"It is not going to happen, sister, so don't wish for it. Whatever you say or think, at the end you are a girl and you cannot sit here, with that cunt between yours legs that disables you to fight on the battleground like I can, and expect to rule Brooklyn. Your advice I can hire people for, but it is me who won back those lost lands from our enemies, and it will be me who will protect our lands and conquer more in the future," Steve ranted at you.

You glared at him with angry red eyes, your chest heaving with your laboured breathes. 

"How dare you speak that way to me?"

Steve grinned at you again.

"I will speak with you any way I want when I become the Warden of Brooklyn," he taunted.

You stomped your feet on the ground and stood up. The food nearly fell from the table.

"This is unacceptable, father. This is outrageous! How could you do this to me?" 

Your father looked at you with worry.

"Sweetheart, calm down, please. I have better plans for you. I am in talks with the Starks to have you wedded with their son, the prince of America, heir to the King himself," he said.

"What?" You and Steve snapped together, both of you equally surprised.

"Yes and I am sure that Howard would accept my offer. There is much to be gained from the union of our houses. You'll be a suitable bride for their son and you'll make a terrific Queen for all our nation," your father assured you.

Your anger subsided and was replaced with a new happy energy. You turned to your brother who sat with his jaw dropped next to your father. The shock hit him too hard.

"Well, how about that? I will get to be Queen of all the States of America. Brooklyn would be a tiny piece of land in front of the whole nation, and being the Queen, Brooklyn would be under my reign anyway," you flaunted.

Steve had an expression of pure disgust. His delight of being the Warden was just stripped away from him.

"Do you really think that they'll take her for their son? This little ungrateful bitch? She is a bastard!" Steve argued with your father.

"Have care how you speak of her, Steve! She is your sister!"

Steve slapped his hand on the table.  "She is no sister of mine!"

"She is my daughter, legitimised by the King, and you'll treat her as such! I want no fights in between you two for this!" You father scolded Steve.

You enjoyed watching his new gained pride being ripped away from him. You had always despised your brother and he did you too.

Steve closed his mouth reluctantly, the look on his face was that of child whose favourite toy had been taken away from him. You smirked at him with arrogance.

"It's alright, brother Steve. You weren't capable of being anything more than a Warden with that thick head of yours anyway," you mocked him.

Steve glared at you. 

"That applies to you too (y/n)," you father snarled at you.

But it didn't bother you. The scope of being the Queen was much better being than being the Warden and you just loved how it hurt Steve's pride and ego.

"Very well, father. I'll be taking my leave now. I'll have my dinner in my own chamber, lest brother here ignites from jealousy and rage," you gave Steve a last poke.

Steve was fuming. His hands were formed in fists on the table and his jaw was clenched. Veins twitched in his temple and neck. He was redder than tomatoes. If his glare could kill you, you would have been dead already.

"Leave," your father allowed.

You gave Steve a cocky smile before you spun on your heels and strutted out of the chambers happily.

You were already picturing how it would be like being married to the Prince of America, to be the Queen of America. You had never thought that your father could arrange such a match for you. That joy was complemented by Steve's burning sense of pride. 

He had tried to compete with you, bully you and dominate you all your life and though father took your side and you proved to be more intelligent than him, Steve took advantage in him being the stronger gender of you two. But you knew just how well you'd show him his place once you become the Queen.

***

Steve trained at the pit with his long-sword which was the house's heirloom. It was to remind him of his status and birth right. With every swing of the sword he imagined tearing apart his bitch of a half-sister. What he would give to see you beaten and bloodied, kneeling before him, begging for his mercy.

He couldn't believe that his father would take away his happiness from him like that. He was to be the Warden of Brooklyn and you were to marry some lowly lord and be his broodmare. You being the Queen would be a real threat to his honour, his pride, his being and his hold on the lands.

From a distance you saw your mad brother expend his aggression at the poor soldier who was subjected to training with him. Steve trained without any armour or shirt. His well-built muscles flexed and glistened with the sweat that came from his aggression.

You smiled to yourself, content with the affect you were already having on him.

Steve beat the soldier to the ground. He was merciless, unheeding of the way the soldier bled and cried for him to stop.

You urged other fellow soldiers and his trainer, Ser James Buchanan Barnes, to go stop him, from the balcony on which you were standing. Barnes was able to pull back Steve away from the innocent soldier.

"That's enough, Steve. Enough for today," Barnes said as he rubbed Steve's back to calm him.

Barnes provided Steve with a cloth to wipe his sweat with. Another man gave him water to drink. 

Steve was calmed a bit by a few words from Barnes. The knight must have informed Steve of your presence because he looked up at where you were standing.

While he gave you a deadly stare, you gave him a lovely smile. You were assured of yourself. Then you left without a word, leaving him to sulk in the aftermath of your victory.

***
In the evening, Steve visited you at your chambers. You weren't too pleased to see his grinning face entering your room. He had a few handmaidens with him that carried wooden boxes whose contents were unknown to you.

You stood up from near your dresser once your own handmaiden was done brushing your hair.

"Well, what brings you here, brother?" You asked him.

"Yesterday's events. We were quite harsh on each other. That was some sourness that developed between us. We're kids no more, we must learn to get along if we are to carry on the name of Brooklyn after father passes away," he said.

You smiled as you took a seat beside a small table kept in your room, tossing a grape in your mouth.

"Oh, so now you remember the importance of me? Now that I may become the Queen? Do you feel threatened already, brother?"

Steve faked a smile too. "Why would I feel threatened by my own baby sister?" He asked.

You wanted to puke at his sweet tone.

"You always felt threatened by me, brother. Even before I developed the mind to outwit you," you told him.

Steve leaned over the opposite chair. His eyes turning darker on your person. They ran over your younger body shamelessly.

"I was just a child," he argued.

"And you were a child for how long?"

Steve tried his best to maintain his smile.

"Let's not talk about our childish quarrels, (y/n). As I said they'd be of no use. Also, I almost forgot bringing these presents for you yesterday. I got them from the lands I won over for us," he said as he gestured his handmaidens to lay out the boxes for you.

His maidens spread out the boxes in front of you and opened them for you to look at the dresses and jewelleries kept in them. You examined them with none the eagerness. You ran a hand across the material of the dress that you'd never wear.

"I don't remember you ever bringing presents for me, not unless father commanded it. I preferred it that way because your choice is just- mediocre, Steve. If you wanted to win me over then you wouldn't have brought me these. One would think that years of shameless ogling at your own sister would have made you at least a little aware of the extravagant dresses and jewellery that she chooses to wear," you jabbed at him.

Steve was keeping himself from losing his anger. But you could hear his heavy breathing already.

"Or you were never concerned with the dresses on my body anyway." You tossed away the boxes.

"Father's excessive pampering has made you insolent, sister. You should learn to be more respectful of other men if you want any chance to be married to the Stark's son," he said in a low and thick voice.

"Don't you worry about that. The Stark's son would have nothing but my love, devotion and respect. The same he would return to me," you told him.

Steve smirked at you.

"You are a fool to think that he'd love you. He's the prince, a handsome rich prince. He is rumoured to enjoy his companies with the ladies and the whores. You'd be nothing but another whore to him, with the exception of being his personal glorified broodmare," Steve hissed at you.

You maintained your look of arrogance, undeterred by Steve's insult.

"And this whore, this broodmare would still be above you. I'd stand above Brooklyn and I'll make you kneel, no, grovel at the feet of your new Queen if you wished to keep Brooklyn to your name any longer," you spat back at him.

The vein on his throat throbbed visibly.

"You can weave your dreams all you want. But you are a woman at the end, and even be the Queen, you will not be above me," he said.

You laughed.

"How long have you been telling yourself that, Steve? That I am woman so I am below you. But you still have your masculinity threatened just by the mere thought of me being better than you. If you really thought me below you, you wouldn't come to my chambers with these pathetic gifts and a pathetic attempt to get me on your side," you said.

Steve’s resilience broke and he was fuming once again. His hands ached to thrash you around and silence you the only way he could, by using his brute strength.

"You can leave now brother. Or you won't be able to take any more the insults that I have in mind for you," you told him, waving him away with your hand as you would with a servant.

Steve slammed his hands on the table in front of you.

"You will regret ever talking to me this way, (y/n)!"

You leaned closer to him and looked him in the eye.

"I'll regret nothing!"

You both stared into each other's eyes with equal amounts of hate and arrogance. Until Steve broke the stare to start leaving.

"I'll cut your wings, (y/n). Remember that," he threatened, before he left.

You didn't let it get to your head. You were better than that, your destiny was better than his. Steve  was just throwing a tantrum and you wouldn't have to deal with it for long once you are shipped away to New York to marry Anthony Stark, heir to the throne of America.

You will have a better life, you assured yourself.

***
The news of your father's death hit you like a thunderstorm. You cried for the loss of the only man who loved you here at Brooklyn. Without your father, your position at Brooklyn became lower than before. And you couldn't stand that, you couldn't stand being below Steve.

Steve made sure that you remain below him. As soon as the funeral ceremonies were over, Steve named himself as the Warden of Brooklyn and took charge of the whole state. You didn't think that Steve would stoop so low, but your father's sudden sickness and death was strange and you couldn’t help but suspect him be the reason of your father’s death. It wasn't unheard of sons to kill their fathers to attain titles. But with your father gone, you were now left alone to fend for yourself.

You had given word to the Maesters and councilmen to dig deeper into your father's death. You never pointed at Steve as you had no surety of where their loyalties lay. 

Fear and uncertainty crept inside you. If Steve had indeed killed your father then he won't hesitate to kill you either. Even if he had not, there was no good to come from having the man, who has hated you all your life, become the Warden. He already had threatened to make you regret your previous bold actions. You were sure that he'd want to make good on his words.

Your only chance of escape would be your marriage with Anthony Stark. But unfortunately, no raven had come from New York to confirm your betrothal to the prince. At least not that you knew of and that raised another question in your mind, would Steve even let you go and become the Queen after all that you had said to him?

You were beginning to regret your arrogance. 

You spent your time either locked up in your chambers or awaiting the ravens and the letters that they brought with them. None came from New York. 

You did not visit your brother, you were too disgusted to meet his face. Your pride hindered it too. He had become the Warden before you had become the Queen. Steve sure would be floating in the skies over that.

But when you didn't go to him, Steve decided to visit you himself. It was the third night since he was named the Warden of Brooklyn and sixth night after your father's death. He bore little remorse on his face as he entered your chambers.

"Leave us alone," he ordered your handmaiden.

"Wait," you held off the girl, not wanting to be left alone with your evil half-brother.

"What do you want?"

"I want some privacy to talk with my sister about our father's death and the following developments in Brooklyn," he answered.

You gave a reluctant glance at your handmaiden.

"Your Lord gave you a command, girl," Steve growled at her.

The girl quickly rushed out of the room, closing the door behind herself. You turned away from Steve and went to pour yourself some wine.

"You did not come to my naming ceremony, sister. Neither did you come to congratulate me," he complained.

You turned around with a spiteful expression. 

"I was a bit offended by it, but I assumed that you still haven't gotten over father's death," he added.

You took a sip of the wine and set the glass down on the table.

"You killed him, didn't you?" You slurred at him.

Steve gave you a confused look.

"That is an awfully bold accusation to make," he replied.

"Yet not untrue. You grew too ambitious, Steve. But so much that you killed him? Your own father? Even after he promised Brooklyn to you?"

"Sister, you are going mad. I will forgive your insolence for this one time, but I will not forgive it for a second time," he threatened you.

"Oh, and what will you do, brother? Have me hanged?"

"I am the Warden of Brooklyn. I will do whatsoever I please," he said, confidently.

You scoffed at him.

"Then do as you please, brother. I will be soon out of your hair," you told him.

"How so?"

"I will be going to New York to marry the King's son," you said.

Steve laughed.

"And who said that they've agreed to the proposal?"

Your heart sank at that thought. If the Starks didn't take you then you'd be left at the mercy of Steve.

"They- they will. The raven just hasn't arrived yet," you argued with uncertainty.

Steve gave a short chuckle.

"Well, I won't play with you anymore. We got this letter from New York, just this morning," Steve said as he unwrapped a roll of parchment from under his fist.

You saw the broken seal of Stark on it. Your pupils dilated at its sight. You reached forward to take it, but Steve swayed it away and out of your reach.

"Give me that!" You screamed, hopping on your feet to reach the height at which he held the parchment.

"Patience, sister. Stand back and I shall read it to you," he said.

You huffed, but were forced to step back. 

"Good girl," he said.

You cringed.

Steve opened the roll of parchment and began reading from it.

"Dear Lord Rogers, Warden of Brooklyn,
I assume that it is Steve who reads this letter as the old Warden has died. I congratulate you on your new position and wish for a long and successful reign, as do I send you my condolences for your father's death. To reach a more pressing matter, your father had sent us the proposal for your sister's hand in marriage to our son Anthony. On due consideration, I have agreed on this marriage and would like for you to come along with your sister to New York for the marriage within two full moons to start the preparations for the ceremony. Sincerely, King of All America,
Howard Stark."

You were delighted at the news. You jumped up and clapped your hands together.

"Excellent! Wonderful!" You cheered.

Steve smiled at you, but it wasn't a welcoming one. 

"I haven't sent them a reply yet," he said.

"Well, then go ahead. Tell them that we'll be there," you said.

"Why should I?" 

The smile faded from your face. Steve really was about to play that game with you.

"Why wouldn't you? Steve, me being married to the Prince of America, future King of All America, is going to beneficial for both of us," you told him.

Steve cocked his head to the side and pouted his lips.

"I doubt that. I remember you telling me just how miserable you'd make me once you become Queen. That doesn't sound very beneficial to me," Steve argued.

You couldn't believe it.

"Steve, that was just childish talk you know- nothing serious. It was just in the heat of the moment. You can't possibly think of rejecting the King's offer himself!"

"Umm, I won't have to reject. It'll be him rejecting you."

"Why? Why would he do that?"

Steve grinned as he took a step closer to you.

"I don't think they'd like to marry a whore to their son," he said in voice laced with menace.

"What are you talking about? I am no whore! I am a lady!" You said, boldly.

"Yes, but any lady who loses her maidenhead before marriage, that too to the prince, is considered to be a whore," he spat at you.

You walked backwards as he moved towards you. His words were making you feel sick.

"I am a virgin. I have never-"

"Yes, I know that, sister. But you won't be a virgin anymore after tonight," he said.

He looked right into your eyes as he undid the top two buttons of his black tunic. Your jaw fell open as you stared at him with horror. This was the sort of thing you were afraid of happening to you ever since father died.

"What's wrong with you, Steve? I am your sister!"

Steve shrugged his shoulders as he stepped closer to you, continuing to unbutton his tunic.

"Doesn't matter to me. I never saw you as a sister anyway. We never shared the same mother," he replied, bluntly.

"We still share half of the same blood, our father's blood. You are going crazy, Steve. Get out of my chambers this instance!" You screamed at him.

Steve grinned at you, though his eyes remained cold.

"If you want me to leave then you could kneel, no, what was it that you said? Grovel at my feet, beg for my mercy, admit that you are below me and then I shall consider your request," he told you.

You shot daggers at him with your eyes. Even the mere suggestion of doing such a humiliating thing was offensive to your whole being. You may have lived your whole life knowing that somewhere or the other you were not equal to him, but your father had made sure never to let such things bother you. 

Your father was a kind, loving and caring man, and it baffled you how he managed to make such a monster of a son. Steve might have mocked you all your life by telling you that you were bastard, daughter of a whore, but you doubted that Steve was even your father's blood. If it weren't for the stark resembling features between your old man and this wretched being, you would have truly believed that he was adopted. 

It was in your misfortune that he was indeed the first-born son. And your father may not have let you feel inferior to him despite of your birth status and gender, without him you realized that your power was only something in your mind all along. You felt helpless.

"You are unbelievable, brother," you said.

Steve walked into you till there was only the distance of a few inches between you two. His body was larger and stronger than yours, and he prided himself on that. You backed away until your calves hit the bed through the fabric of the skirt of your dress.

The closeness was suffocating, and at the very first attempt of getting away from him, Steve stopped you by holding your arm and keeping you where you stood. His grip was tight around your arm, you could feel the blood pressure being cut off from the area which he held.

"Get away from me, Steve," you told him.

"You don't think I am serious. That's your mistake," he said.

"If you are serious then you are a fool. Refusing the crown's offer would do you no good, certainly not when your position as the Warden is all so new. Raping and killing the woman who the King intends to marry his son with is stupidity. And all for what? Your pride, your jealousy, your fear of me becoming the Queen? Oh, Steve, even now you are more short-sighted than ever. How do you manage-"

Steve's slap on your cheek was unexpected. You fell on the edge of your bed, steading yourself on your hands. It certainly was not the first time Steve had struck you, but it burnt with the same intensity as every other time. 

"You don't need to worry about what happens to me or my hold on Brooklyn. Worry about yourself and your fate," he said as he pushed your shoulders to the bed.

You were forced to lay down on your back. Steve quickly climbed over, preventing you from getting up. 

"Get off! Get the fuck off of me!" You screamed as you threw punches at his chest, face, whatever area you could find.

Steve caught your hands by the wrists and pinned them at your sides. He leaned closer to you till his face was hovering just inches above yours.

"Struggle all you will, (y/n). Scream and cry, beg me to stop," he said, cockily.

You twisted your body as Steve forced a knee between your thighs to keep them open. His eyes wandered wantonly down to your heaving breasts. He held your hands over your head with one large hand of his while he brought down the other to feather over the fabric that covered your modesty from his sight.

"I have imagined doing this to you for so long," he said as cupped one breast and squeezed at it.

"Don't you touch me. Don't you dare touch me," you hissed through gritted teeth.

Steve rested his weight on top of your body, grinding himself on your stomach.

"Oh, I am not daring. This is not an act of bravery. Doing this is laughably easy for me, (y/n). It was only father who kept me from my true desires when he was alive. But no one can save daddy's little princess anymore," he mocked you.

Tears welled in your eyes at the mention of your dead father, the man who loved you and looked out for you. Now you were left alone with his heathen of a son.

"You are disgusting," you spewed at him.

Steve sighed. "Well, you better get used to it."

With that he hooked his fingers into the laces of your dress and pulled them open carelessly. You tried to move away or push him off, but there was nothing you could do with the way he had you pinned beneath him. 

Begging and pleading seemed to be the only option left here, but you were too proud and arrogant to do it. Your brother may crumble your body but he will never crumble your ego and spirit.

You held in your cries by locking your jaw and turned your head to your side as Steve brought his lips down to settle between your now exposed breasts. His hot and wet tongue trailed its way to your left nipple where he closed his lips around it. He suckled at it as if he was expecting milk to come out. It was an uncomfortable sensation and it was only heightened by the feeling of his teeth nicking at the sensitive skin.

You bucked your hips up in order to throw him off balance, even a little, but you only managed to hump yourself on his thick thigh. Steve enjoyed that and dug his knee further in between your legs. 

Steve kissed his way up to your neck, biting little marks on it. He let go of your wrists only to use both hands to rip off your bodice. You gasped at the sickening noise of the fabric tearing. His hands spanned across your body from your chest to your abdomen, leaving goose-flesh where they touched the skin. 

You had never seen such hunger in his eyes, not even when he used to corner you and pin you against walls when you both were younger. It terrified you. 

Steve's fingers slithered in between your thighs. You barely got a chance to fight before he parted them and removed the skirt that kept your womanhood hidden from him. 

The fear got realer and realer the more forward he became. The realisation of what was happening finally dawned upon you. You could not let this happen. It won't be a thing that'll just pass. This would ruin your life, your chance of being the Queen, and everything else.

You struggled harder against him.

"No- Steve, please stop," you begged, breaking out of your false pride.

Steve looked at you with an amused smile. 

"Am I really hearing that? (Y/n) Rogers, begging me?" 

"I won't say anything again ever. I will respect you, do everything for you, anything that you say. Please, just let me go, Steve."

Steve placed his hands on either side of you and leaned closer to you once again. He smiled wider at you.

"Firstly, sister, I am your Lord now and you I'll refer to me as such. No calling me by my name, is that understood?" 

You nodded. "Y-yes, my lord."

"Secondly, if you are ready to do anything I say then do it. Start by giving your big brother a nice kiss, why don't you?" He asked.

Even the suggestion was disgusting for you, but you did not know what else to do.

"If- if I do, then you'll leave me alone?" You asked, hopefully.

"Well," he started, running his eyes down your exposed body. "I don't make any promises, but it could be a possibility and if I were you, I'd say it’s worth a try."

You shed another round of fat tears. This was torture. You contemplated what to do, something told you that it won't work and he was just giving you false hopes. 

"I won't wait for long, sister," he warned you.

That was the push that you needed to give in. You had to take even the slightest chance given to you to get out of this. Maybe he'd be pleased by your compliance and set you free. After that you'd flee Brooklyn and leave him no chance to get you in this situation ever again.

With a lot of reluctance you placed your hands on his shoulders to help you lift yourself up from the bed. It was hard to face him especially when he looked so much like your father. It just made your urge to vomit stronger and stronger. 

Steve slid one hand behind you and pushed your back to help you come closer to him. He parted his lips and let you do the rest yourself. You closed your eyes and tried to forget all the repulsion that was surging through your body as you pressed your lips against your terrible half-brother’s. 

The soft kiss that you had started became a deep and rough one as Steve took charge of the situation. He locked his lips to yours and infiltrated your mouth with his vile tongue. You whined and pushed your hands against his shoulders in an attempt to break the kiss. But Steve had placed a hand at the back of your head that made it impossible for you to pull away. 

His other hand slide in between you two and you heard the sound of him unbuckling his belt. Soon you felt something hot, hard and fleshy bob against your stomach. You knew right away what it was. You thrashed more violently against him, enough to break away from the kiss and fall onto the bed again.

In your moment of haze and shock, Steve had pulled your hips towards him and positioned his cock at your entrance. 

"Steve! Don't! You said-"

"I didn't say anything," he said, coldly.

Then he proceeded to insert himself inside your embarrassingly slick pussy. 

"A whore indeed," he commented as he thrust his remaining inches inside you.

You screamed from the pain of being torn. Steve, however, groaned with pleasure as your walls tightened around his length.

Your handmaiden came running inside at the sound of your agony.

"My lady!" She exclaimed.

Both you and Steve turned to look at the girl who stood there with an expression of utter horror.

"Get help!" You told her.

"Get out and close the door!" Steve commanded her.

The girl went running out. You weren't sure whose command was she going to answer. You hoped that she maintained her loyalties to you.

"Nobody is going to help you here in Brooklyn anymore. Nobody is going to help you anywhere," he told you as he pulled himself out and slammed himself back in.

There was no use of it either. Steve had already taken your maidenhead and consequently ruined your scope of ever marrying a high lord, let alone Prince Anthony. Hope escaped your eyes in the form of tears.

Steve felt content that you were finally where he had always wanted you to be, ever since you were born and brought to the castle.  He enjoyed every bit of the pain and humiliation that displayed on your face. It only coaxed him to fuck your harder. You covered your face with your hands, not wanting to see the father like face of your devilish brother as he rutted inside you.

He let you be for a while, he was too busy relishing the pleasure that you were giving him and chasing his climax. Steve laid on top of your body, letting your bare skin scratch against the material of his clothes. You felt his hot breath brush against ear and neck and what was worse that you could directly hear him grunting and groaning into your ear. 

"You feel so good around me, sister. Your pussy was meant to be taken by me," he panted.

You only sobbed in response. Steve pulled away the hands from your face so that he could look into your eyes as he fucked you. He grabbed your jaw in a tight grip to keep you from turning away.

"Look at me, sister. You look truly beautiful like this, beneath me, being fucked by me," he complemented you.

You stared at him with defiance and disgust.

"Accept your fate," he grunted.

"As my personal whore. Oh, I will fill you with my seed and have you give birth to my bastard sons. How'd you like that, (y/n)?"

Steve managed to rile you up in a new way. A new wave of tension washed of your mind.

"No, no, not that," you cried. "Pull out, please!"

Ignoring your pleas, Steve plunged himself the deepest he could go inside you. He groaned aloud and his lips twisted as he spilled his seed in your pussy. You felt the hot, sticky liquid coat the inside of your walls, and with that all your hopes had extinguished.

"No," you whispered as you stared blankly at the ceiling.

"No?" Steve asked as withdrew himself from you.

"It'd be an honour for you to carry my bastards in your womb, now that you are nothing but a bastard whore yourself," he taunted, crushing your soul with his remark.

You pulled the remaining shreds of your robe over yourself. All the muscles in your body felt sore and the pain between your legs was stinging.

Steve touched your knee, preventing you from closing your legs, as he examined the combination of blood and semen leaking out from your womanhood. He felt pleased with his work.

"I'll send in your handmaiden to help you clean up," he told you.

You raised yourself up and crawled away from him, curling into a ball over your bed. Steve fixed his clothes before he began leaving. He opened the door to your chamber and stood at the door frame. 

"Oh and," he said as he turned around.

You glanced at him. His image was blurry due to the wetness of your eyes.

"You'll be removed from the chambers by the end of day. Only ladies and lords deserve to have such luxuries. You will be shifted to my chambers where you'll be serving me as my very own handmaiden and whore, of course. So do prepare yourself for that. I expect you to behave properly." 

He smiled at you as the horror dawned on your face.

"You can't!" 

"I can and I will," he said, arrogantly, before he walked away, leaving you to dwell alone in your miseries.