We are counting down the days to our sign-ups with a daily drabble! Today’s chosen prompt was
Droit du seigneur
and has been written by mod Pestilence!
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Best laid plans
Prompt: Droit du seigneur (also known as jus primae noctis, was a supposed legal right in medieval Europe, allowing feudal lords to have sexual relations with subordinate women, in particular, on their wedding nights.)
Rating: PG
Tags: supposedly historical
Warning: one or two double entendres/references a supposedly historical right of a feudal lord to impose himself sexually on subordinat women.
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“Angel!” Crowley hissed between clenched teeth.
Aziraphale simply stood a little taller - or as tall as she could. She’d chosen to make her female corporation a little shorter, simply because she’d long since learned that it would get her further in the end than when she was taller than most of the men.
Men tended to be more manageable if she kept her corporation at a shorter height than theirs.
Well, human men at least.
Apparently a demon was easier to unsettle.
“Really, Crowley,” she huffed. “Droit du seigneur?”
“I didn’t realize what they meant until it was too late to back out of - and while we’re at it,” Crowley growled menacingly (or tried to at least, he’d never scared Aziraphale), “what are you doing here?”
“If you must know, the poor family only had one daughter - where would it leave them if she wasn’t a virgin on her wedding night?” Azirpahale huffed again. She had been ready to deal with a human idiot whom she could easily dupe and turn away, leaving him to think he’d gotten what he’d come for without for one second giving him what he’d want. “You know how they are about this idea of purity and virginity.”
Crowley, the vexing creature, was a completely different kind of problem.
Especially considering the current setup.
Crowley, posing as a landowner, demanding his right and she, posing as a virgin girl, sent to his bedroom.
If Gabriel ever caught wind of this…
Crowley all but deflated. “I guess it’s not so bad - I mean, now I won’t have to make some poor peasant girl think she’d had a lousy night with some bastard landowner.”
Aziraphale felt her own stern demeanor soften somewhat. Of course Crowley hadn’t planned to do anything heinous. She should have known and trusted him that much.
“Nice corporation, by the way, Angel,” Crowley said, cocking his head to the side. “Not often I see you like this.”
Aziraphale preened, ignoring the fact that pride was one of the seven deadly sins. This was Crowley, afterall, no harm done.
“Well, neither of us are served by me leaving in the dead of night,” Aziraphale said airily. Then she narrowed her eyes at the demon. “How is you wine selection this century?”
Crowley made a face. “Not nearly good enough for you, Angel. The ale’s not too bad, though.” The last was added with a hopeful look.
Aziraphale shimmied in her seat. Oh, she did so like the ale.
“Shell we settle in for the night, then?” she asked, completely ignoring the flush of Crowley’s cheeks matching the colour of his hair.
“You’ll be the death of me, Aziraphale,” Crowley muttered, not without a touch of respect as he snapped his fingers and the wooden chair opposite his own became a comfortable, soft monstrosity for her to sit in.
“One does try, my dear.”