Author's Note: It took a while but here's more from our GoT heroes. Thank you for your patience and your encouragement. A FTGIV centric follow up in The Trail AU is in the works next, along with another Defiance AU, and as always, more updates for the WIPs are on the way.

CMW2/Trumpetnista: Draftbook Drabble #13 (Follow up to D.D.s #2 and 4, GoT-esque period piece, Fitz, Olivia, Abby, Mellie, Andrew, treachery and retribution, one-sided Mew, established Olitz, ride or die, NSFW)

Words from the Gladiator in a Hoodie: Ask and ye shall receive! It's been 21 minutes since I played around in this AU but that was because I had to figure out what to do next. I already killed the Creeper, which is pretty much my endgame goal for any new SCANDAL-ous fic I come up with nowadays (by the way, I'm thinking teaming up with some likeminded Gladiators and doing one of those Million Ways to Die in the West-esque fics with him and just going crack!fic and serious H.A.M. until he's gone from canon for good. I'm talking fire, water, earth, wind, getting hit by a speeding train...all the good stuff...) but after mulling it over and reading D.D.s #2 and #4 over and over again, I've come up with something that's both lovely and a little scary. Enjoy! Mad Love, Jam, and Power Drills, ~*Trump*~

Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"

Excerpts from Draftbook Drabble #2 and #4

"…married him off to a savage…absolute madness…"

"…culled by their women…essentially worship them…it is uncouth yet intriguing…no less chaotic than our society…"

"…Lady Vaughn nearly inconsolable…what did she expect? Once she allowed herself to be penetrated by Sir Nichols, all allegiance Fitzgerald had to her was severed and rightfully so…"

"…There is nothing wrong with having a different opinion. There is nothing wrong with expressing that different opinion. Insolence will not be tolerated, however nor will any slight towards my wife or her people. They are equal citizens in our lands and will be respected as such. The price you pay for either infraction is death.Understood?"

"Yes, Your Grace..."

"Her ultimate fate is in your hands, Olivia. While her mind is obviously skewed, it is also sound and she must face the consequences of her actions. Had her plot succeeded, the Mixture would've certainly caused you to miscarry for that is what it was created to do. In the Time of Darkness, women were routinely violated by the invading bands and some could not bear the idea of giving birth to the babes of the monsters who harmed them. The Mixture was created by an elite group of healers to give the defiled ones freedom, comfort, and in higher doses, painless death. She acquired the recipe and ingredients from one of the Sisters of the Hill, claiming to be violated by a nomadic herdsman. They swear that if they had known the truth, they would've removed her head and entrails themselves. Their loyalty has always been to the crown, House Grant, and you are a personal favorite of theirs."

"I understand, Abigail. What are the options for her other than a permanent stay in the dungeons?"

"Execution or Exile. Sir Nichols is pleading for the latter, offering to leave with her and take on guardianship of her for the rest of her days. He truly, deeply loves her and it is a shame. The Lady Vaughn has always had an icy void within her soul, one filled with ambition and greed. She once tried to sink her claws into my beautiful David but he saw through her easily. It is only through the grace of the Gods and the recklessness of her cunt that the King was able to escape her before Fitzgerald II forced a marriage between them."

"Indeed…"

Snow crunched under the soles of her boots as Olivia walked with Lady Abigail Rosen, the lead cook on staff and a friend as dear to her as Quinn, her head handmaiden. The brassy redhead had been the one to apprehend the one who had attempted to poison her breakfast with the Mixture, a young girl named Amanda of the Tanner clan. They were a family of goat herders and in an effort to secure a better future for them, they had sent their daughter to court to find a rich man to wed. Unfortunately, she had fallen in with Sir William of House Chambers and his debauched ilk. The Lady Millicent Vaughn had then taken the used and vulnerable peasant girl underneath her wing and wove an intricate web of vicious deceit.

According to her, Fitzgerald III had been sold to the Santorans against his will and had been bewitched by Olivia to do her bidding. The only way to free him, the only way for him to be the true King with a proper wife by his side was to be rid of not only Olivia but of the demon baby inside of her. Amanda, having been raised in ignorance and sharing the negative feelings many still had about the Santorans, had agreed immediately to the mission.

Were it not for Abigail's sharp eyes and deep loyalty…

With a shiver that had nothing to do with the January cold, Olivia rested protective hands on her bump, feeling the stirring of the baby through her skin and the white velvet and rabbit's fur gown she had on. An overcoat in House Grant's colors of purple and gold swirled around her ankles as she walked and her onyx hair was loose about her shoulders, its fullness keeping her ears away from the chill.

"What say the King?"

"He wants her dead. He wants her dead for betraying him with Sir Nichols. He wants her dead for using Sir Nichols since despite the scandal, he still considers the man to be his blood brother and more than anything, he wants her dead for putting you and the little one in harm's way. As what happened with the Ballard twat proves, mercy and compassion go out of the window with him when it becomes clear that you have been endangered."

"My Fitzgerald's capacity for hatred is only surpassed by his capacity to love. I must speak with him on this matter. Do you know where he is?"

"After seeing about the Lady Vaughn in the dungeons, he retired to your bedchambers. Be mindful, my sister. He was in a very black mood and may not be open to any sort of discussion."

"Don't worry, Abigail. I know exactly how to Handle him."

/

"I should have done it myself! That dark wench stole everything from me! Everything that was rightfully mine! Your whorish fool of a father gave you away to a savage and now, the royal line stands to be tainted by the blood of murderers! The Santorans are nothing but a pox upon the world and I only hope that someday someone will teach them their rightful places…"

The opening of the door broke through the hate spewed from the disgraced Lady Vaughn but Fitzgerald made no move to open his eyes. Rage had drained him of his energy. It had burned like flames in his gut and it took everything he had not to throttle the crazed bitch. How dare she try and hurt his Torani, his beloved Olivia! How dare she conspire to murder the child that he already loved with all of his heart! If it were solely up to him, then Millicent's head would be rotting next to the Skull of Jacob Ballard…

The furs and bedding were moved and the sweet scent of his mate filled his nostrils, making him open his eyes to slivers. Olivia was round and ripe with pregnancy, the glow from the fire nowhere near as potent as the glow that she carried with their child. Oh, their precious child…the child they had made out of deep love and blistering passion.

The Mixture could've not only taken away their child but killed Olivia, too. He remembered learning about it from his mother and how only beasts and cowards forced themselves on a woman. Lady Dorcas Grant knew that it was too late to save his father from his vices so she had made sure to train Fitzgerald III to see a woman as an equal and her sex as a gift given…

"Olivia…"

"Shh, my Toran…let me tend to you…let me soothe you…"

Fitzgerald sighed deeply as she latched onto his neck, kissing and suckling, the heat in his Gut coiling lower now. His hands went to her plump behind, squeezing fondly and he gave himself over to her fully. Millicent had claimed that Olivia had bewitched him and he agreed. She had bewitched him not with the power of the Gods or a potion but simply with her loyal love. Olivia had come into his life and had given it warmth again, color and a sense of purpose. She had intoxicated him with her deep wisdom, enchanted him with her warrior's heart, and addicted him to her sweetness. He could never get enough of her touch, her taste, the sweet silky pinch of her quim…

"Ohhh…"

…and the blistering warmth of her mouth.

Fitzgerald's head fell back into the pillows and a full body shudder of delight made its way along his nerve endings. Olivia let out a pleased mew and established a slow rhythm, back and forth, her tongue twining over him like climbing ivy. Her cool fingertips went to the hypersensitive flesh of his inner thighs and he growled as she suckled on his sac, licking a messy trail upwards over the thick veins…

"…you are divine, my little love…you inflame me like no other…"

In response to his praise, she rose up over him and took him inside her dripping core, a delighted cry escaping her as he throbbed within her channel. Her hands went firmly to his chest and her hips began to move in serpentine movements, building up to a steady riding pace. Electric bliss boiled in his veins and he strove with her, their hips meeting and grinding together.

"Mine!" she growled as she raked her nails over his chest.

"Yours…all yours…no one else's…"

"She can't have you!"

"No, she can't!"

"You are mine! I will not share you! I will not let anyone steal you! My husband! Mine! Mine!"

Sitting up, he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back. A snarling cry of rapture echoed throughout the room (and possibly the rest of the floor) as he marked his Livvie boldly.

"My Livvie…my baby in you…you're just as mine as I am yours, Olivia…"

"Yes! Yours!"

"Mine!"

"Fitz-ger-ald!"

/

2 Months Later…

"I loved her with all of my heart and soul. I truly did…but she…there was nothing left of the Millicent that I knew. Perhaps the Millicent I knew was nothing but an illusion, an ideal that my own desires created. I bring you her head, Your Grace. She was…she was a monster. Nothing but ice and hate in her heart. She was too dangerous to be kept alive and too cunning for me to contain for much longer. Had I not dispatched her, she would have certainly returned to this realm breathing murder against you, Torani Olivia, and your young ones. Your Annabelle and Fitzgerald IV."

"You did the right thing, my brother."

"You still consider me to be your brother, Fitzgerald? Even after…"

"Like the winds scour away the mountains, so does time scour away the pain, Andrew. Welcome home."