The Arrangement {Timothée Chalamet x Reader}

one hundred quid

The king looked at the queen. She stood before him, digging around for a bow. She pulled one out from a bin and shoved it and a sheath of arrows into his arms. He felt embarrassed, how come her father taught her all this brave stuff while his father had him riding horses and relaxing as he pleased? He didn't even teach the king to read, he left that to the maids. And yet here was this woman who knew how to send a sword flying from a man's hand or hit an apple off of a tree that was meters away. He felt little next to her knowing this information. But he puffed out his chest and carried on anyways.

You stand in front of Timothée, wooden sword drawn. "Okay," you grit your teeth. "Try to hit me, better yet disarm me." You plant your feet and hold up your sword. "I'll go easy on you. I only get one move."

"Come on, this is terrible." He frowns. You scowl at him and he sighs. "Fine! Fine." He steps towards you and swings his sword at you, you take one move and his sword flies up. You hold out your hand and catch it.

You stick the sword into his stomach. "You're dead." You pass him the stick, "again." He takes a different approach, you knock the sword from his hand. "Again." He runs at you, sword out in front of him. You knock it away with ease. "Again." He lulls his head back and groans. "Again, Timothée." He tires and tries and tries, and you repeatedly shout at him to try again after disarming him. "Go." You say.

"I'm sorry?" He's beginning to sweat through his shirt.

"I have disarmed you twenty times now. Go run." You shove him forward and he doesn't move. "Must I run with your sorry ass?"

"No." He says with an eye roll, he jogs away and you sigh. Men, what idiots.

You pull out your sword and address the cavalry. "Oi! Whoever can unarm me first gets one hundred quid!" You plant your feet, holding your sword out before you. "One try, that's all you get. Got it?" Everyone shuffles about, trying to work up the nerve to fight you.

"How hard can it be?" One cocky soldier laughs. He twists his sword around and approaches you, swinging at you. You block two of the attacks and send his sword flying.

He stares at you and then his empty hand. "Alright, who's next?" You ask nonchalantly. He goes to get his sword and the next soldier steps forwards, again you disarm them quickly. Another steps up, he knicks your cheek when you put your sword up to protect your face. The wood draws blood, but you inevitably unarm him. "This is too easy." You sigh. You glance at the courtyard, Timothée is gone. You groan, and out of the corner of your eyes you notice someone running at you. You whip your sword out and knock the sword up into the air. "Nice try." You say as they walk away with their head down. Soldiers run at you, duel you, or just try to jab your face. Each and every one of them being unsuccessful in getting your sword out of your hands. Three people remain. One short soldier who spins their sword about runs at you. You block their hit, but it sends your boots to slide in the gravel. They attack again and you block. For being such a short bugger they were good. The make hits and jabs, each one raining unsuccessful in hitting you. Except for one fowl hit to the stomach, you double over and they take the advantage to try to knock away your sword. You toss your own sword up into your non dominant hand. You straighten, take two steps back, and flip the sword away. Your chest heaves, that was harder than you thought. "Hey you're good." You stick out your hand for a handshake. "What's your name?"

They take off their head piece and a long blonde braid shakes out. "Thanks, I'm happy to serve you your majesty. My name is Jess." She bows, takes your hand and shakes it proudly.

You smile slightly. "I thank you for your service." You thank her and she walks away. Another one approaches you, you easily unarm them. You let out a long sigh. You raise your head to look at the final opponent. "Timothée?" You blink. "I thought you had left." You say sourly.

"N-no." He says, stuttering a bit, which you thought was a bit odd.

You smile at him, not a friendly smile but a I'm-gonna-kick-your-ass type smile. You hold your sword before you. He steps forward and swings. You block his first attack and his second. You go to hit his sword out of his hands and he dodges your hit swiftly. You blink at him, slightly impressed. He makes a false move though, and you unarm him quickly. "You're quick, but not quick enough." You sigh, "practice when you have time I suppose." You nod at him. "Alright, back to work." You shout.

You walk throughout the halls of your castle, stretching out your limbs out. You hadn't fought that many people in a row in a while, and whilst you were still young, your muscles were still sore. You bend over, stretching your fingers as far as they would go. Someone grabs your shoulder and you straighten. You turn, expecting it to be your mother, but you come face to face with your uncle.

"Y/n, hello." He says.

"Uncle. Hi." You say sourly.

"I noticed our cavalry was training today, without a trainer." He places his hand behind his back.

"No, I was."

"You? But you're a woman." He scowls. "Surely I can help you."

"I beg your pardon? This woman is your queen. The very queen can revoke your position as duke so I suggest you respect me." You stare him down and fear passes through his face. "You can train the cavalry. I need to work with my fiancé..." You stop yourself. You sigh and clear your throat. "But you will follow a plan I give you. And I suggest you listen. Your title is on the line."

He doesn't say anything, he nods and walks away. You sigh, you were such an idiot. Your uncle would surely tell your mother. Oh you hated him a lot. You walk up the stairs and towards the left wing of your castle. You adjust your crown before knocking on the door to Timothée's chambers.

He pops open the door. "Mm? What do you need?" You must of woken him up, dark circles lay under his eyes, his curls are tousled and his eyelids look heavy. You had never seen him without his crown.

"Tomorrow we will train solo. I expect you in the training room by six." You nod.

"In the morning?" He rubs at his eyes.

"Yes. Sleep well." You turn on your heel and leave. Even though you hated him you had to admit he wasn't hideous. And his buttoned down shirt was distracting to say in the least. But you still did not wish to marry him, nor did you like him one bit. You push open your own chamber door that was just down the hall from Timothée. You toss your tiara onto your bed side table, strip your clothes from your body, pull on your night dress, and throw yourself under the covers. You had training tomorrow and you were going to make him regret being rude. You chuckle to yourself in the dark. You enjoyed making people suffer. Especially the people who irritated you. You clutched your worn stuffed bear to your chest, you wanted to see your father tonight, it was just one of those nights where you needed to. For no reason at all but to see his face. You squeezed your eyes shut, and will yourself to sleep.