A Fractured Kingdom (Fates.Gamble & Alexandra1405)

[MoldaviteGreen]

He says that like he can imagine me being scolded by Morteus. Arielle laughed, the sound that escaped her quite melodious as it carried on the gentle breezed that licked at their cheeks. “Morteus doesn’t scold,” she confessed, smiling down at her boots before she took pause to toe out of them, preferring to continue their walk in bare feet. Her boots were tied together by their laces and tossed over the narrow of her shoulder, all while her arm remained threaded through Hadrian’s as if she feared letting him go. “He doesn’t have the wit like you and I to banter with passive-aggressive remarks. Morteus is a man who swears and curses, especially when he gets angry.” Mismatched eyes slid sideways to glance at the man at her side, a finger brushing the inside of his wrist. “He gets passionate in his anger, and he certainly has no fear in making it known that he doesn’t agree with something. Apparently.....” Arielle’s voice became sing song as she released his arm, taking several quick steps to walk in front of Hadrian, her back turned to the path as she walked backwards. “I’m giving you the eyes. What do you say, Hadrian? Do you think I’m giving you the eyes?”

Cobalt blue and pine green sparkled with something wicked, a mischief that never faded, but they lacked the shimmer of lust that had brightened them tenfold when Hadrian had held her pinned beneath him. I dare you to answer, she seemed to smirk, I dare you to tell me that I am and that you’ve noticed, or that I’m not and you’re lying. Either way, she had him trapped, but that didn’t seem to be of any interest to her as she span back around and paused to continue walking at his side. The mischievous smile remained upon her rose lips, the flesh supple and glimmering after a sweep of her pink tongue.

“Daunting, hm?” Arielle pondered, running a hand through the loose wisps of red hair and tucking the scarce few that would obey behind an ear. “That’s what makes a journey interesting, isn’t it? It isn’t an adventure if there isn’t an inherent risk. I know I certainly need some kind of threat, or some kind of risk, before I really enjoy a good adventure.” At Hadrian’s question, her smile warmed to something genuine. “I think I’m coming home with the sworn enemy on my arm, actually, with all things considered. It’s nice, to know that my family are waiting just beyond the mountain range and that they’ll accept me straight back into their arms as if I haven’t been missing for a handful of months. I am more excited, though, about going further north and into the wilder territories.”

Twigs and grass crunched underfoot, each blade slick against the thick sole of her bare feet that had grown accustomed to their harsh battering. The underbrush licked at their shins, catching cloaks every now and then requiring a firm tug. It was when the last sliver of the daylight dipped beneath the brewing dark clouds that sat low on the horizon that Arielle boldly clasped at Hadrian’s hand to thread fingers together; her grip on his own firm as she quickened her pace.

“When was the last time you were able to escape?” Arielle spoke to him from over her shoulder, cutting a path through the ferns and brush. “When were you able to just be yourself and cut yourself a break?” She doubted that it was recently, with the pressures of the crown weighing heavily upon him. A secret little smile crept across her lips, that wickedness returning to her eyes. Whether Hadrian had been able to cut himself some slack recently or not, she hoped that he would allow himself some pleasure tonight.

The brush birthed them; the twigs, grass and dirt underfoot shifted to loose brown sand. The lake wasn’t notorious, wasn’t even on a map; simply known to those who frequented this backwater town on the cusp of the wilderness and those who called it home. In the silver glow of the moon, the waters were eerily still; a puddle of inky black that didn’t really seem too inviting. This far up north and the water would not be warmed. Instead it would chill bare skin until one felt the need to warm themselves by the fire immediately afterward. Arielle continued forward to the banks of the lake, her toes digging through the loose sand before their twined fingers untangled.

Saying nothing at all, she paced to the edge of the lake, where black water lapped softly at the bank and her toes. Boots were set down and away from the edge, her fingers quick to unclasp her cloak to pile that atop her shoes. Her intent was clear in that second, as she cast Hadrian a bold smirk from over her shoulder as she made quick work of the buttons of her shirt. Cotton was discarded, not bothering to be folded neatly. Arielle’s visit to the lake was anything but innocent.

Awash in the silver glow of the full moon, Arielle seemed to glow. The smooth of her skin appeared far softer, it’s cream an incandescent silvery-white. Her freckles were a darker shade of bronze, flecking the tops of her shoulders and the gentle sweeps of collarbones as her undershirt was untucked from the waistband of her trousers. It was her hair, however, that was the most vibrant of all beneath the moon. A mane of burning fire; shades of red and copper and jasper threaded together in a loose braid that hung to the small of her back. All of this, Hadrian had seen before, and it should have come with the same lack of surprise when Arielle bent at the waist to peel the dark cotton of her trousers over the lean muscled shape of her thighs.

The flare of her hips wiggled just a fraction with mischievous purpose as the round of her ass shook with the movement, more than enough flesh to spill between thick fingers. Inch by inch was revealed, Arielle taking her sweet time before she balanced elegantly on one foot to peel the pant leg off the other. Soon, trousers were rolled against her chest before they were tossed onto the pile, Arielle purposefully avoiding Hadrian’s eyes and gifting him her back. Her next movement, however, would be her most wicked.

Cream fingers clasped the stitched hem of her undershirt, the silk clinging to her frame as if it had been modelled for her alone. As it rose, it revealed smooth planes of bare flesh, the lean muscle of her back twitching with the shift of her arms. Her spine was a gentle curve, an indentation between taut muscles. Should Hadrian watch carefully, however, he would have been able to spot the glimmer of gold that began at the small of her back between the dimples that peered at him from above the black of her thin panties. A tattoo, delicate in nature, that would not steal his eyes from the silver scars that decorated the planes of her waist and shoulder blades. Undershirt was drawn upwards above her head, lifting with it the heavy weight of her breasts that soon released them in a bounce that was even visible from behind. Arielle stood before him, in nothing but her black underwear, lingering at the edge of the lake as if she were allowing Hadrian to gaze at her; to see the story that her scars revealed.

Indentations of her skin that were circular in nature suggested puncture wounds created by blunt force; a pain that she would remember until the end of time. Each were set between the flare of her hips and the notch of her diaphragm, as if her torturer had aimed their damage at internal organs. Some scars were far more beautiful; silvery lines that danced across the cream of her skin drawing the eye northward. There were scars with jagged edges. There were scars several shades paler than the rest and fresher. But all of it painted a beautifully rugged image of who Arielle was. A fighter. A rebel. A survivor. The tattoo that ran the length of her spine from base of her skull to tailbone had been designed to accentuate the imagery of her back, inked in soft gold.

The same gold of the studs in her ear that glinted at Hadrian as she turned to glance at him from over her shoulder, only the cusp of her breast revealed beneath moonlight. “I bet that you won’t join me.” Her voice was a siren’s song, musical in nature and edged with a challenge.

The water welcomed the brazen young woman who’s feet disappeared into the inky pool as she waded slowly out until it lapped gently at her waist. Cream hands were held out to the side, her fingers dancing across the black surface of the lake as Arielle confidently rolled out narrow shoulders and continued to stride deeper.

“It’ll cost you a bed at the inn.” The smirk clung to her voice, dripping with wickedness.

 

[Fates.Gamble]

“Oh, no?” Hadrian quipped at her response, full lips pulling into a smile. Sea foam eyes glanced over Ari’s face, inspecting the healing bruises that remained there. “Perhaps he speaks better with his fist?” He suggested, having pieced together the training session that took place between them. It reminded him of Caius, somewhat, though the King’s Shield seemed to spend less time speaking with his sword and more time taunting Hadrian of late. I’ll have to find him something to swing at soon, Hadrian thought, if for no other reason to get the energy out. Yet, such thoughts were brushed aside as Arielle slipped out of her boots, a habit she seemed to have around him, and let her bare soles relish the cold ground. A little too cold, he thought, brow perking at the behavior, though he made no comment as they continued on.

“Ah, much like our Lord Mandon, then,” the king mused, recalling the spat with his Lord of Justice. Though, clearly Morteus had a bit more bite to go with his bark. For all The lord’s blustering he still went down like a sack of potatoes after one blow. Clearly whatever transpired between the two of them hadn’t escalated to that point, but Hadrian was rather curious to know the cause of their disgruntled conversation. In all honesty he never expected that Arielle would actually tell him, and he was especially surprised she did so once he learned that cause.

Hadrian watched her silently as she danced out ahead of him, barring his path and making sure she could get a good look at his expression for this, no doubt. Thankfully Hadrian was a master of hiding his thoughts on an issue, no matter how awkward or intriguing. A witty retort came to mind, as always for the sharp witted King, but something about the luster of her eyes, and the daring smirk she wore rendered him to silence. Instead he found himself guilty of her own crime, hungry eyes passing over her barefooted form which looked exceedingly gorgeous, bathed in the fading light as she was. Hadrian almost lost himself in her visage for a moment, though the King quickly regained his senses, and smirked right back at her.

“Oh, most definitely,” Hadrian said, sounding amused as he swept away a bothersome strand of ebony hair teasing across his face.” You’ve been giving me those eyes since they first fell upon me.”

The only question Hadrian had was whether those looks were genuine, or simply well-placed bait. Arielle was, after all, a brilliant actress. She proved as much when she managed to fool some of the brightest minds of Eirlea by posing as a servant girl right under their noses. Not to mention her wit and feints kept her group of insurgents a constant threat against Hadrian’s forces, despite their superior numbers. It was hard to take anything at face value with her, not until he got to know her better. And that realization had Caius’ words ringing through his head.
Better make her yours...

“Well perhaps that’s why you’ve been giving me the eyes,” he piped up at her retort. “What bigger risk could you take than taking an interest in the man you’ve been at war with for years?” He was more or less joking, but Hadrian couldn’t help but wonder if that really was the case. Maybe she truly was attracted to the thrill and danger of this relationship more than anything else. It was as nerve-wracking as it was electric knowing the course this whole thing could take Should there be a falling out between them. The violence of the war before would surely be nothing compared to their efforts to hurt each other then

“A fair point,” Hadrian noted, burying his pondered concerns. It was truly surreal to be walking arm and arm as they were. He was of course growing used to her presence; to this game they were playing by now, but the oddity of it all yet lingered in the back of his mind. Never would he have expected to take a casual stroll with his sworn enemy, listening intently while she described the happy reception that awaited her back home. Must be nice, he thought, imagining what it would be like to have such a forgiving bond with her loved ones. Not only was his family practically dead and gone, but such acceptance was something rarely if ever shown by his father. Hadrian could recall feeling such warmth and acceptance from his mother, but those memories were fleeting at best. He knew that if the tables were turned, and he were the one presenting Arielle to his father, he likely would have been disowned or worse.

The Royal Family indeed, Hadrian scoffed to himself, his face unreadable while his eyes were cast to the way ahead. More like the broken family.

“Must be that love of risk,” He taunted Arielle, wearing the ghost of a smile. Things would only grow more precarious the further north they ventured from civilization. Maybe that’s her plan, he mused to himself, not entirely serious, Seek out every threat of the north she can think of until one of them gets the best of me. A clever way to kill a king without actually wielding the knife. Well, Hadrian was nothing if not persistent. He might come out of it battered and bruised, but he would not let this frozen wasteland become his grave.

The first of her trials seemed to be this overgrown path she chose to take. Hadrian weathered the annoyances silently, even as his long cloak was caught on the brush more often than not. Where is she taking us? He wondered, eyes leaping to the horizon to note the last traces of daylight melting away. As if sensing his anticipation, Arielle clutched to his hand and hurried them along, to which Hadrian smirked at, before squeezing her hand and moving to keep stride as they continued on their jaunt. She gave him something else to think about in the meantime, and Hadrian threw back his head, searching the velvety skies as he considered it.

“Longer than I care to admit,” he told her, soft eyes still gazing across that endless, inky expanse from which the stars had not yet awakened. “I find time to sneak off every now and again,” he said, wearing a wicked grin. Just the other night, for example, he thought to himself, but didn’t dare bring it to attention considering their argument about that. “A King’s still got to have his fun. I’ll escape to the arena on occasion...” As well as a good fuck he always loved a good fight, whether he was the one swinging his fists or watching others do it. “But honestly, it’s been a couple years now since I’ve actually left the city. And, as far as actually having time to be myself and not just the king of Eirlea?” Hadrian’s tongue peeled out, licking at his dry lips while he thought about it. He was disappointed in himself that it was taking him this long to come up with an answer; or rather, an answer that didn’t feel quite so long ago.

“Probably not since shortly after my coronation,” he eventually confessed. Eyes jumped to her in a sideways glance, wondering if she already knew the event he was speaking of or if his men and council had managed to contain the story as expected. She’d divined his trip to the brothel easy enough, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d heard the rumors, but Hadrian decided to tell her anyway.

“It’s funny... As the crown prince you spend your entire life preparing for the day it’s placed upon your head, but I’d only been king for about two months before I grew utterly sick of the weight of it there. So I abdicated the throne for three weeks.” No doubt she could understand the pressures of leadership, but such pressures were even more immense given Hadrian’s lineage. Regardless, he did not go into the reasoning behind his choice.

“The last great escape of my life,” Hadrian said with a dry laugh. “One day I just decided I’d had enough. And so, in the dead of night, I saddled up my horse and rode off for the countryside.” A genuine smile swept his face as Hadrian recollected it, still scarcely able to believe he’d actually made the decision. “I didn’t breathe a word to anyone about this, of course,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “Not even my council. I just removed my crown, and set it down on the throne, practically daring another man to take it.”

Hadrian leased a heavy sigh, one caught somewhere between longing and disappointment. “Three weeks out in that open world, no one but me and Knox and time to think; space to breathe. Living free off the bounties of nature... it was all I really needed for the stress to melt away and see things clearly. So after three weeks I returned, only to find my crown sitting right where I left it. With a bunch of fuming, arguing Lords, who I am certain were both saddened and relieved to see I had returned.” Had he spent much more time away, Hadrian would have had to remove it from one of their heads, no doubt.

“Perhaps this trip will be just what I need again,” he decided, just as the coarse brush was giving way to softer sands. Hadrian gazed out at the lake, a silent, obsidian disc graced by the soft glow of moonlight. It made for an interesting view as they strode out onto the beach together, but going for a swim was the furthest thing from his mind. Arielle however, seemed to have other ideas, the warmth of her hand forsaking his as she ventured out to the water’s edge. Hadrian remained rooted to the spot, watching her curiously while she let the black water lick at her toes before setting down her boots and reaching for the clasp off her cloak.

“You must be joking,” he responded to that wild smirk, a tone of amusement in his voice. “It’s freezing out.” Though, he supposed compared to the bitter winds of the far north, this must be rather mild for her. Well it was still bloody cold enough for him, though that concern was put out of mind while he watched her disrobe, still keeping his distance which was growing unfavorable the more of her clothes that fell away. She was anything but joking...

If Arielle was beautiful in that fading twilight she was downright radiant in the silvery glow of the moon. Had the idea of jumping into a freezing lake not been kept him lingering behind the sight of her probably would have rooted him there anyway. Any quick witted retort he might have had was gone the moment she bent down and shed her trousers. Watching those little hips wiggle with purpose and intent... Suddenly Hadrian wasn’t feeling quite as cold anymore. Arielle knew what she was doing and Hadrian knew what she was doing too. And how could he not fall for such a sweet trap? His eyes were anchored to the scene, his mouth feeling quite dry all of a sudden. Funny, considering the view could make a man salivate.

Hadrian sucked in a breath as he watched her remove the final layer, revealing the canvas of her back, painted with the stories of battle. Arielle certainly loved a good fight too; probably even more than Hadrian himself. Eyes roamed over her silvery scars as well as the sculpted muscles of her bare back, taking it all in appreciatively just the way she wanted him to. She knows how to make a man want her, he thought, I’ll give her that much. And yet, his arousal couldn’t help but be slightly tainted by his empathy. At the root of all those scars and old wounds was a bitter truth: Pain, and all of it because of the war between them. But it was clear that Arielle did not run from her pain. Indeed, that golden shimmer running the length of her spine spoke volumes; she embraced it.

Hadrian’s eyes fled the tapestry of her body to meet the allure of her eyes instead, his lips pulling into a bit of a smirk as she challenged him. “Well of course not. I’m not out of my mind.” Though, privately he was thinking a man had to be out of his mind to decline and invitation like this. Still, he remained where he was while Arielle stepped into the inky water, seeming to relish the cold as though it were an old friend. Tempted as he was by that body, all Hadrian could think of was the exceedingly long walk back to anywhere warm even if he did go in for a dip. Inch by inch he watched that creamy body disappear beneath the surface, his opportunity wading further out by the moment. And then came the terms of the challenge.

Hadrian frowned, somewhat soured by this sudden dilemma in which he found himself. “Well I’m not sleeping on the floor again, if that’s what you think.” The brothel was probably better kept than this old outpost town, and besides, he’d be damned if he was putting his back through any more of that torture. What am I thinking? He wondered, as he began to kick off his warm, fur-lined boots. The sand was like mushy ice beneath his toes, giving him chills even before he began to shrug off his heavy cloak. By the time that had fallen to the sands, along with his fine, cotton shirt m, revealing his muscled torso, Hadrian was affected by a visible shiver.

“You truly are a wicked thing,” he called out to Arielle as she teasingly in the waters, “I hope you know that.” But of course she did. Hadrian took his sweet time, not exactly in a hurry to test just how cold that water was as he stretched out his back and neck some before finally reaching for the belt of his trousers, the last warm stronghold he had left. As if telling him to get on with it, the breeze picked up, the cold wind seeming to cut right through him. Man up, he encouraged himself, knowing this would be child’s play compared to their wintery destination ahead.

Bolstering his confidence, Hadrian grinned out at her with as he undid the belt and slide the leather free of its loops before tossing it aside to join the rest of his clothing. As he told her before, he knew how to play her games, and Hadrian wasn’t one to be put down. Thumbs hooked not only his trousers, but the layer beneath as he slid them down strong legs and promptly stepped out of them, proudly bearing all. Of course, his confidence was not quite so high as Arielle’s when it came to approaching the lake’s edge, where he hesitantly stepped into the paralyzing waters. “Gods, that’s cold,” he complained, before stepping out further. The icy water swallowed him up to the waist before long, freezing him all the way. Before long he was shivering again, and completely at a loss for how Arielle was not.

“You must have ice in those veins,” he half complimented, half complained by the time he’d waded as far out as she had. “And I’m guessing this isn’t the ice bath you promised me...” Though it certainly felt like it. In an effort to acclimate himself to the cold, Hadrian took a quick dip beneath the surface, submerging himself and letting the gelid waters claim him in their entirety. After several moments he resurfaced, icy drips pouring down his face as he slicked back his wet hair. After a bit his shivering seemed to subside, the cold numbing his body. He merely surrendered himself to the sensation, relaxing in the waters and taking in the view of the open world around them. By now the first starts we’re lighting up the black curtain above, little diamonds in the distance.

“So... Have you cleared your head yet?” He asked, attentions switching from the skies to the beautiful woman lingering before him, melded with the black water like a silent predator. “Because this seems like a good way to do it.” It was hard to think about anything other than the cold. Yet, looking into those intense, mismatched eyes of hers, Hadrian’s head remained full, harboring all kinds of devious thoughts. They were utterly alone and vulnerable, the silent world their only witness. It was tantalizing to say the least, after seeing the way she stripped down and baited him out here. Yet despite such thoughts, he still managed to keep his distance, for all of his royal concerns were just as loud, an ever present buzzing in the back of his skull that told him to play it safe with this girl; even if his body was suggesting a much better alternative.

 

[MoldaviteGreen]

The lake’s water was painted an inky black, reflecting only the pale glow of the harvest moon and the soft twinkling of the stars that had begun to peer from behind dark clouds. The storm had begun to brew on the horizon, and yet it made no move towards them; as it gifting them this time together to unravel from a long day’s travel, its intention benevolent. Yet, the surrounding darkness encroached on them further, shadows cast king across the cold sand by the moon, seeming to flicker and close in on them with predatory claws. Even the lake itself seemed to take on an ominous aura, swallowing Arielle to her collarbones as she waded out further into the chilled waters, before somewhat submerging as she turned to face the bank where Hadrian stood. Her smirk was one both of mischief, tainted by a genuine warmth that came with enjoying his company; something she hadn’t realised she’d missed.

“You’ll be glad then,” she announced as he remained further up the bank, seeming determined to remain dry. “You won’t be able to see me giving you the eyes if you stay there.” Her smile was bright as she grinned, arms stirring the water about her to create ripples upon the inky surface. She had said nothing as Hadrian had spoken to her of his last great escape, an abdication that he only be hinted at by rumours that were never confirmed. His Council did a mighty job of keeping it secret―a Kingdom without a King for three weeks was one that was vulnerable and weak, open for attack. It would have provided her the perfect window of opportunity, had she have known.

The mischievous grin dimmed a fraction, only as it shifted into something genuinely warm, tainted by kind understanding. Arielle understood the pressures of leadership, of having others look to you in times of desperation and need as if he held all answers. There was nothing more crippling than self-doubt, and the belief that you may not be good enough. She had been plagued by so many thoughts of why she had chosen this crusade, why she had believed herself to be capable of leading her people to a brighter future. She imagined that he had felt the same when the crown had been thrusted upon him after the death of his father; a weight that Hadrian had been trained to carry but not necessarily prepared. “Maybe what you need is someone who understands, not just an escape.” The words were so gentle that she doubted Hadrian had been able to hear them from across the lake, a volume above a murmur as if she didn’t really wish him to hear her admission that sounded more like a presumptuous suggestion.

That playfulness, however, quickly sparked once more as she watched Hadrian move towards the water, Arielle dipping low and appearing akin to a siren awaiting a sailor’s fateful plunge. “I never questioned your sanity, I questioned whether you’d be brave enough,” she countered, grinning as the water lapped at her chin. “That bed will be mighty fine, I’m sure, made even better by the image of you sleeping at its foot quite uncomfortably. Is that cruel of me?” A rhetorical question because it was undoubtedly cruel, though Arielle had never protested against such a fact.

It was, however, when Hadrian toed out of his boots that Arielle moved a little deeper into the lake, unable to touch the bottom as she lowered into the water until only mismatched eyes were visible. Strategic, since she wished to hide the wicked grin as he called her such, yet continued to disrobe. She was far more wicked than he knew, and she watched with satisfaction as Hadrian pulled shirt over head and discarded it neatly beside her own pile. She was not expecting, however, for Hadrian to disrobe entirely.

That wicked grin grew nefarious beneath the water, heterogenous eyes shining brightly, almost with a glow as she watched sun-kissed skin be revealed to her. If she had any doubts that Hadrian was still a boy, they were brushed aside as he stood before her; lines of muscle licked by the silver glow of the moon as it cast him in its gentle light. Hadrian, as confident as ever, stood on the banks of the lake in all of his naked glory, baring all to her as she watched keenly from the water; gifted a view she had not anticipated. It surprised her, then, that Hadrian hadn’t taken a lover beyond those who waited for him within the brothel. Despite what he may have expected, Arielle remained silent as he toed the water, her words lost to her as eyes watched with predatory precision as he ambled into the inky lake. Their silence, however, was broken by his admission that he found the lukewarm waters freezing.

Arielle rose from the water, droplets shimmering against collarbones as she laughed melodiously. “This is the furthest thing from the ice baths that I promised you. I really don’t understand what your problem is, this is warm.” She grinned, a ripple sent out towards the edge of the lake as she stroked the water with a wide sweep of her arms, feet swirling beneath her to keep her afloat. Then, as she smirked brightly at him, Arielle disappeared beneath the surface, plunging into dark depths. At first, swirling tendrils of red hair could still be spotted, easily mistake for swaying seaweeds, but even that hint of where she was soon disappeared. The lake’s surface glimmered with the stars above, winking at Hadrian as if they, too, were playing her game. After several moments, Arielle did not resurface.

Instead, she had found herself several feet beneath Hadrian, almost sitting upon the sanding bottom, gazing up at the surface overhead as it twinkled. From beneath, he appeared to be swimming among the stars, treading water gently above her.

What is he thinking? Does he feel the call of the wild like I do? Or is all he’s thinking about is getting back to a warm fire and dry clothes?

Arielle shifted in the water, crouching on the lake’s bottom as feet dug into sand and sediment as she kicked off. Her rise was gentle though, barely a ripple made as she resurfaced to announce that she was now behind him. Cream hands swept wild red hair from her face, straight now with the weight of the cool water. Slowly, she edged towards him, until she was close enough to settle warm hands over the slopes of his shoulders. Fingers dug into taut muscles, thumbs pressed against smooth planes of scapulae as she began to knew at his shoulders with just enough pressure to coax their release. “I cleared my mind a while ago,” Arielle admitted in soft murmur, the motion of her feet as she tread water enough for her toes to brush occasionally against his heels. “You seem to have done a far worse job, however, at clearing your own.” Hands ran the length of his shoulders, from rounded edge towards neck as thumbs swept along vertebrae. One hand moved to grip at the muscle of upper arm, fingers dimpling sun-kissed flesh as the other moved to massage the length of neck with a firm, confident pressure. A knuckle pressed to the base of Hadrian’s skull, the touch somewhat gentle as she kneaded with caution....almost care.

“Something is on your mind, Hadrian,” Arielle deduced, fingers slipping into ebony hair to scratch lightly at scalp as she edged a little closer. Whether it was the chill of the water or the effect Hadrian ashamedly had on her, her body responded in a way that was clear as hardened nipples brushed against his back just briefly before plump flesh pillowed against his back; Arielle drawing herself in close. Lips were scorching in comparison to the chilled water about them, though gentle as they pressed at the juncture between shoulder and throat, lingering there for a moment before she moved away once more; allowing Hadrian a sliver of space. “I didn’t bring you so far into the wilderness for you to still be bothered by politics,” Arielle scolded as both hands resumed kneading at broad shoulders. “This won’t be an escape for you if you’re still concerning yourself about every little thing. It doesn’t pay to worry so much.”

 

[Fates.Gamble]

There was something about being out in that pitch black lake, ominous as it seemed, and the darkening skies, unbroken save for the mountains in the distance, that felt incredibly freeing to Hadrian. It was a nice change of pace when compared to the bustle of his every day life. The silence was a like a tranquil melody of its own sort, and greatly appreciated after the constant droll of voices looking to him to solve their every problem. If it was just a bit warmer out, it might have been perfect little escape. But fortunately, Arielle seemed intent to distract him from his lack of warmth, playfully disappearing beneath the water for a while before eventually resurfacing behind him.

Hadrian did not turn as he heard the surface break, even though he’d started to worry with how long she’d been down there, swallowed into the pitch after he’d seen the last of those red tendrils vanish. Instead he was patient, practically sensing her Arielle’s intentions as she swam closer; a huntress with prey most delectable in her sights. Therefore, it came as no surprise when he felt the warmth of her hands settling over his shoulders. Hadrian relaxed into her touch, uttering a soft sound of approval once she began to knead into his tense muscles. Hadrian could feel goosebumps, ones added to those brought on by the cold. His legs grew lazy and sluggish in their in their motion to keep afloat, and none to eager to shy away from the teasing at his heels either.

“I’ve never been very good at it,” Hadrian admitted about keeping a clear head; though Arielle was helping him along in that regard. He was putty in her hands, head tilting to allow her all the access she wanted while skilled fingers worked at his neck. “That is the curse of my crown...” he explained, words trailing off a moment as when a hand slipped into his ebony hair, nails dragging across his scalp. “I’ve always got something on my mind.” But Arielle was giving him far more favorable things to think about.

Once again Hadrian was wracked by a shiver, but this one had little to do with the cold. Arielle was entirely the culprit, causing little ripples of pleasure throughout his body as she pressed herself into his back and continued to work those magic hands of hers. And then her lips joined in the game, and for a moment she really was all he could think about. Everything else just melted, burned away by her scorching attentions. And his concerns did not seem to return, not even as Arielle retreated a space, denying him the warmth she’s only just offered. A bit of scolding was to follow, but her hands returned to their work soon enough. Hadrian wore a hidden smirk, eyes which had drifted closed in his enjoyment popping back open with a wild gleam.

“Oh? And what did you bring me out here for?” He asked, teasingly. “I thought we were trying to clear your head, not mine.” It seemed rather the other way around, not that he was complaining. In fact, he didn’t even care for an answer. “Mmm... You know how to make a man feel like a king, don’t know?” He complimented her efforts. Though Hadrian pulled away from them right after, twisting around to grant him his front instead of his back. He seized her by the waist an instant later, drawing her near to reclaim the space she’d only just granted. Smirk widened as he felt their bodies mesh once again, the soft pillow of her breasts enticing him as they pressed into his chest. “Whether it’s helping him relax, or just trying to take his throne.”

Sea foam eyes roamed her delicate features, almost hungry, for the king had to admit his future bride looked more than appetizing in that moment; her wet skin gleaming in the moonlight and the usual fire of her hair dampened to embers. Hadrian’s hand fled the waters, lifting to brush away some of the dark red strands, before lithely brushing his knuckles across the smoothness of her cheek. Knuckles gave way to the soft pad of his thumb, tracing across her jawline before capturing her chin in a commanding yet gentle hold. “You really know how to vex me, as well,” he told her, keeping her gaze. “For better and worse.”

Arielle wasn’t the only one affected by the other. He’d felt a stir in his loins from the moment her hands fell upon him, her expert touch lifting his excitement. Before long he was blinded to it, his eyes growing hungry in the way they searched her. That ravenous gaze fell upon her plump lips, which he had to admit looked especially appealing now. Lifting slightly from her chin, his thumb slid across the pulp of her lower lip, relishing in the rose petal softness against his skin. Thoughts flooded back to the last couple times he’d felt them; to those fleeting kisses in the dining hall and council chambers. They were hardly kisses at all, of course, and the tease of a proper one was growing almost too much to bear here and now.

And so his hand fell away, only for Hadrian himself to lean in, hands returning to their place at her waist while he pressed his lips into hers in anything but a fleeting manner. It’s was bold, maybe even a little commanding the way he kissed her, the initial softness giving way quickly as his lips parted, and his tongue coaxing her own into a brief dance. It made for an electric delight that saw him deepening the kiss, leaving him lightheaded before long. Her lips were like a toxic sort of honey, depriving him of his senses and caution. And Hadrian was happy to let them go, showing his approval with a soft little moan and roaming hands, which had somehow slipped back down to that plump little ass of hers and settled into a tight squeeze.

His senses remained gone even after he pulled away for air, a wild and wanting look on his face; one which he hadn’t sported since his younger days as a care free prince, before his father’s responsibilities were dumped in his lap. But Arielle only got a glimpse of that before Hadrian pushed away, gliding back across the surface then promptly diving beneath it. Like Arielle before him he lingered in the depths a while, all but invisible without that red halo of a man to spot him by, though before long his form could be seen moving through the waters, darting back towards the shore. Once the water was shallow enough to reach his waist he resurfaced, the chilly breeze cutting right through his exposed skin.

Hadrian didn’t say a word, nor even look back until he reached the small beach and collected his articles of clothing. The bitter cold had him working quickly, pants practically jumped into one leg at a time as he began to dress himself. “I don’t know about you,” he began to say, pulling his trousers the rest of the way up and quickly reaching for the next layer, “But I’m ready for a warm fire. And that bed besides.” He paused to glance over his shoulder for the latter half, granting her a look that practically screamed ‘Are you coming or not?’

Hadrian didn’t wait for an answer, simply grabbed up his cloak and ambled off, heading back through the woods towards the inn. His heart was racing as he considered the offer he just laid on the table; beating so fast that it seemed to be all he could hear. Why not just be reckless? He thought. Everything was on the table now, wasn’t it? He’d already admitted he couldn’t so much as fuck a whore without thinking about her soft body, dual eyes and flaming hair... Now that she knew she was just going to do whatever she could to drive him up the wall. Why resist? Why not just fuck her on his own terms for a change?

He was a decent ways into the woodland trail before his reason finally showed its face in the form of his Shield.

“We need to talk,” Caius announced himself, practically emerging from the Void as he stepped out from behind a tree trunk, unsettled look in his eye and hand resting upon the pommel of his sword, seeming as though it was hesitant to drift too far from the hilt.

Once Hadrian was over the initial surprise of the sudden appearance, his face immediately soured. “Haven’t we talked enough?” He grumbled, wanting nothing more than to retire to his chambers as expected; hopefully with Arielle trailing along shortly behind. But even if she denied such an invitation, that fire was calling him just as much. He was doing his best to ignore the way his clothes stuck to his wet skin. The longer the lingered the more they were beginning to feel like blankets of wet ice. To that end, it was more of an order than a question, with Hadrian pushing by his Shield without so much as a second glance.

“You need to be careful about how you proceed with the Northerner,” Caius told him bluntly, turning to face Hadrian’s back. “I don’t think you should go sticking anything into her just yet.”

The forced Hadrian to a stop, bringing the King to whip around and face the seasoned fighter. The confidence with which he said it... Like he already knew Hadrian’s intentions. “You were watching us,” he said pointedly, the realization hitting prompting his temper once it hit.

“That’s my job, isn’t it? To keep an eye on any threat that gets too close.”

“I thought I told you to see to the men!” Hadrian snapped.

“And I saw to the men,” Caius replied right back, smooth and uncaring of Hadrian’s anger. “That’s why I’m here, telling you this now. Things are tense... Your men are none too happy about being dragged up into this wasteland; into the north which they and theirs have bled and died defending against. And they’re even less pleased to see you granting northerners room and board while they’re stuck out in the cold.”

“She is to be their queen,” Hadrian told him decidedly. “They will come to accept it lest they come to regret it.”

“As you say, your Grace...” The way he said the title was practically lined with venom, Caius quickly growing bored with this conversation. “But until then it might serve to remember that out here you are far from the protection of thrones and parliament. You are alone, and at the mercy of the men who serve you. Those men are desperate at the best of times. And now they see us waltzing right into the jaws of the enemy.”

“What different tunes you tend to sing, Caius,” Hadrian shot back, refusing to listen to this drivel. “Not five minutes ago you were telling me to go and make her mine. Now you speak the opposite.”

Caius set his jaw, fingers wrapping tighter around the pommel of his blade. “That was before I heard the reach of their discontent. Bed the girl if you wish, Hadrian; no doubt I would make that mistake. But I’m no king. Just remember, they see you even if you don’t see them. And more importantly they see her; see her beguiling you with feminine charms like a succubus seducing their monarch. Do you think their perceptions will change once you’ve gotten between her legs and have her swooning over your royal prick? They’ll only get worse if you ask me.”

Even though he was fuming over this, Hadrian found himself struck with silence. Eyes were burning as they stared right back into his Shield’s, wanting to argue against this but finding no sound dispute. Deep down he knew that Caius was not wrong; these were several of the concerns that were already knocking around his skull before he’d given into that kiss. How cruel it was to have forgotten them, only to have them drilled back in moments later.

Seeing that he would not respond, Caius ended his speech with one last note. “Just remember: You don’t have to fear the wolves of the north if you turn your servants into a ravenous pack all their own. That’s what your father did to Arielle and all of her people in the first place. Why don’t you contemplate that for a while, then decide if she’s worth getting your dick wet? Your Grace.”

After excusing himself, Caius wandered off, and Hadrian hurried along in his wake, moving on from the scene before Arielle chances to catch up and hear any of this. He tried not to think about the words, even as he and Caius inevitably split different directions; the Shield returning to keep an extra eye on the men while Hadrian finally retreated to his room for the night. It wasn’t much in the way of commendations, (soldiers who manned an outpost didn’t need anything ritzy) but it was shelter from the cold. Or at least it would have been, if Caius hadn’t put a chill in Hadrian’s veins that the cold air hadn’t even managed.

Even after building a small fire in the hearth, it’s orange glow casting a calm ambiance in the room, Hadrian found he could not enjoy it. He could only stand there, eyes drawn to the shuddering flames while he did exactly what his Shield cursed him to do, and contemplate everything that was said. He’d meant to be totally relaxed by now, ready and willing for Arielle if she chose to follow and put an end to their games of back and forth. But instead, as Hadrian shrugged off his coat and crossed the room to hang it up, he found himself hoping she wouldn’t even come.

 

[MoldaviteGreen]

Milky fingers found a bunched muscle skilfully, warming the knot beneath the heel of her palm before she began to work harder to coax it into relaxing. She knew the pleasures of having tight muscles released by expert hands, having someone at her back to pinch, thumb and prod at one particular knot that always seemed to occur when she was feeling stressed from a night’s battle. The difference being that the hands that worked at her muscles were either her own, or one of the hardened women of the war camp that remained behind during battle to see to mending the armour. Never had her knots been worked out by loving, gentle hands, that warmed skin and provided spine-tingling shiver. Arielle had neither been the kind of woman who day-dreamed of such an experience, her spare time spent admiring war plans, strategy maps, mending her own armour or rallying the men. The rebel leader gave herself a moment, now, to wonder what it must feel like to have careful hands run over skin with the intention to please rather than heal or maim. Oh, how it must feel to have someone touch you with desire....

“It would seem that I’m far more skilled at clearing my mind than you are,” Arielle laughed lightly under her breath as she thread fingertips into the midnight hair at the base of his skull, a hand remaining upon his shoulder to knead at the knot it had discovered. “All I need is a breath away from the frustration, and my head is clear. Perhaps that is why I’ve been so successful in my fight, I have a skill for keeping free of distractions. You, however.....” she edged a little closer to press a kiss to the juncture of throat and shoulder, “...seem to find it a little more difficult.”

The swirl in the inky water created by his movements were watched by somewhat narrowed eyes, Arielle watching carefully as Hadrian slipped away from her only to grant himself enough space to spin. Her hands had fallen away from his scalp and shoulder, slipping beneath the black surface that lapped at the crests of her heavy breasts as if the ink was beginning to swallow her. It wasn’t until the warmth of Hadrian’s hands found her hips to pull her close, that that wicked smile returned to her lips, that devilish glimmer finding its way to her mismatched eyes. “Correction,” Arielle purred sweetly as she tangled a lean-muscled leg through Hadrian’s own, “I wasn’t trying to steal your throne, I was trying to end the monarchy.” As if such a thing were any better than his suggestion, despite the sickly sweet grin upon the plump tiers of her lips. With a casual shrug of one shoulder, several beads of crystalline water rolled along delicate collar bones, her body as equally beautiful as it was deadly after having been crafted by years on the frontline to be a weapon.

As she watched him with a gaze that was almost predatory, a wet lock of hair seemed to capture his attention, encouraging him to brush and tuck it behind an ear pierced with several golden studs. For as much as her palms and soles of her feet were calloused, her back scarred from cruel torture, mind hardened by years on the run, Arielle was still very much shrouded with feminine charm when she decided to use it. A charm that she hadn’t used for well over four years—since her heart had been broken by a lover she’d then staked to an oak tree. The thumb across her jawline did little to suffocate the fire that had begun to burn within heterogenous eyes; the green lightening so something more akin to the skin of a lime and the blue to that of sky, even in the dim light as she watched his face with keen interest.

“Haven’t you realised?” She mused as Hadrian clasped her chin firmly, his grip sending a light shiver through her spine as she hooked that leg tighter around his own. “All of this has just been my learning how to get under your skin.” It was a bold lie, one that practically went unsaid as mismatched eyes flickered between his in attempt to learn his thoughts. The pulsatile muscle in her chest was squeezing painfully tight, her body only now registering just how frigid the water was. Was this how Hadrian felt? So chilled to the bone as if he’s wading through ice? Arielle wasn’t oblivious, however, to how those sea-foam eyes lingered on the rose of her lips, the fat of the bottom tier tucked lightly between teeth in a soft nibble against the cold. Why was she feeling it now? Toes curled and stomach lurched as Hadrian shifted closer; this game of theirs becoming too real. It was the thumb against the fat of her lower lip that coaxed her teeth to release it, just as the touch caused a sharp intake of breath that was held deep in lungs, the sound akin to a startled gasp, though one of pleasure. How such a simple touch had the ability to set her nerves tingling with electricity, she wasn’t sure, but Arielle fought hard to stifle a shiver. Her attempts were most unsuccessful, her weight bumping into Hadrian’s thigh as she straddled it beneath water, having coaxed it to bend as she intertwined her leg around his.

That teasing thumb fell away, giving Arielle the permission she needed to release the breath. For a fleeting moment she felt as though sense was returning, the frigid cold she’d sudden become encapsulated by fading to its previous lukewarm, as if her body had become less of a northerner in the moment of his focus. Toes curled against the muscle of his calf, Arielle not entirely wishing for him to leave the proximity he had stolen from her. She was not, however, expecting to feel Hadrian’s lips against her own. That breath was taken again, a short and sharp intake of cool air that was held in lungs as he sealed their lips in a kiss.

The world did not exist around them. The water lapping at her collar bones suddenly went ignored, as did the just of wind that shook the spindly branches of the surrounding brush. Arielle, once so tuned to the world about her, failed to notice the beginnings of icy pin pricks across bare skin as the storm drew eerily closer. What she did pay particular attention to, however, was how her heart thundered so violently against her chest as if it were trying to free itself from her ribs; reaching an almost painful crescendo. That breath was still held deep in her chest, forgotten even as her body was starved of precious air. Perhaps it was for that reason that Arielle’s head grew light, or it could have been the initially light pressure of masculine lips against her own. Hadrian’s kiss was far from gentle, however, revealing a hunger she had only thought she had seen in his eyes and ignored. The tip of warm tongue slipped between her tiers, only to be greeted eagerly with the warm flesh of her own that slid between teeth. Mismatched eyes had fallen closed, the only senses Arielle was consumed by was touch and taste. Hardened chest pressed so tightly against her own that heavy breasts pillowed against lean muscle. Fingers clasped at the round of her ass, the supple flesh dimpling between knuckles and pooling into his palm. The thunder of a heart against one that seemed frighteningly far more quieter.

Arielle may have spun a spell about Hadrian, but he was working his own about her now.

Milky fingers slipped between inky strands of hair, clasping at a fistful with the intent to deepen the kiss before Hadrian decided that he had had enough. Lips parted and Arielle was left to sweep wet tongue across her lips in order to savour the taste of him; sweet cinnamon, masculine sandalwood and something else she couldn’t quite name. Hadrian, in just one deep kiss, had unlocked a hunger within her that she hadn’t realise had festered into something ravenous. Breath rushed through parted lips, not quite as shaky as she thought as she watched him dip beneath the surface of the water just as she had.

“What the fuck was that?”

Her words were more for herself than Hadrian, muttered under her breath as she raked slender fingers through the molten embers of her wet hair. Eyes closed, her next sigh far more exasperated, before she dipped hands into the chilled water and brought it to scrub at her face. The game had changed, Hadrian altering the stakes, and she hadn’t expected it in the slightest. All of this time, even in battle, Arielle had been in control. She liked to consider that she had the upper hand, holding Eirlea’s trading points fast in her grip until the country weakened to such a state he needed to give in to her commands. Arielle was not used to having a man take her up on a challenge, let alone turn her mischievous game on its head.

When Hadrian broke from the water, his back to her as he strode confidently from the lake, Arielle watched the shift of bare muscles with a pointed glare. It wasn’t entirely malicious, rather it was calculating, as she considered what it was he had wanted from that kiss. Was that another attempt at play? Did he use that just as she had to throw her off her game? Was there an ulterior motive behind such a moment that she was yet to deduce? Arielle remained in the depths, seemingly happy being surrounded by pitch black as the thunder roared just moments away. That warm fire did sound alluring, but she wasn’t quite sure whether she was ready to play into his hand. Instead, she remained silent as Hadrian went about quickly dressing, casting her a look from over his shoulder before he made off through the brush.

As she wondered whether he’d make it back into the village by himself before the storm, Arielle shifted in the water. Floating on her back, the moonlight licked at her naked front, making her seem to glow against the contrast of the midnight water. Raindrops prickled the plane of her stomach, sculpted by lean muscle and another set of scars. In the dark, her limbs spread wide as she stared up at the night sky, she wondered whether he had seen her most brutal of scars. Would he be repulsed? Was that why he left so suddenly? What would he think had caused such a mark? Arielle’s jaw set tightly, a twitch in the muscle that began to make it cramp.

The water frothed about her as she righted herself suddenly, stalking to the bank of the lake before she moved to her pile of clothes. Trousers were tugged on, peeled slowly over damp skin before she began to wring out dripping hair. A sound caught her attention, carried on the wind like a quiet whisper. Voices. Shirt was thrown over her head, the cotton staining dark with the droplets of water from her hair and the coming rain. Knives were tucked in pockets and sheathes, buckled tightly once more before she scooped up her cloak and ran silently into the brush.

The conversation she caught were of two voices she could easily name. Hadrian and his dutiful Caius.

“—don’t think you should go sticking anything into her just yet—”

A frown gathered in ginger brows, initially confusion before it became something far darker when it was paired with bitter understanding.

“—threat that gets too close—”
“—telling me to go make her mine.”

Arielle’s features darkened into something twisted, the softness that had gathered within her in the moments spent alone with Hadrian quickly evaporating to be replaced by cruel hardness. The air grew chilled about her as her mood shifted dangerously, those eyes darkening with a predatory anger. Now it all made sense.

“—swooning over your royal prick?.....then decide if she’s worth getting your dick wet.”

Caius spoke of her as if she were nothing but flesh, her only use either to usurp or fuck, as if she were some feral beast that could be enjoyed for a night before being cast to the side left used. Arielle had made a similar mistake once before, jumping to conclusions, as she later discovered, when she had spied Hadrian leaving the brothel so early in the morning. She would not make that same mistake again, not wanting to bitter whatever it was they had recently been sharing. It was not worth the risk, but she had no relationship or kinship with Caius. Her decision was made. She moved swiftly, silent amongst the brush and the trees that stood tall about them, moving from shadow to shadow as if she were stalking prey.

Something flew by Caius’ ear, before a metallic blade embedded in the bark of a tree opposite him. The knife was carved obsidian, absent of any handle, and it was engraved with a raven. It did not wobble as it sat before him, glistening in the moonlight. The sting of the cut would come later, as would the small bead of blood that would bloom at the minuscule cut of the shell of his ear.

“I’ll remind you,” Arielle called to Caius as she broke from the shadow, lingering in the darkness as she glared at the man charged with Hadrian’s protection with a look both poisonous as it was predatory, “that if I wanted to end Hadrian, I wouldn’t hesitate. Just like I wouldn’t hesitate if I wanted to have your fucking ear. You’re lucky,” she growled, stalking towards him, “that I’m in a better mood. I would have aimed at your head, otherwise, and I would have pinned it quite squarely to that tree. The only swooning I’ll do is when Hadrian gives in to my request; a little fucking respect goes a long way with my people as it does with me.” Arielle watched Caius closely as she paced around him in a wide circle, not giving him her back even as she snatched the obsidian knife easily from the bark it had embedded deeply within. “You’d be best to remember that, before you go around talking as if my cunt has anything to do with you.” Knife was swiped across the trouser over the meat of the thigh, letting them bead of crimson linger on the cotton to stain, as if to remain a warning. It was not pocketed as she squared off with Caius. “I’ll be taking you and your lot deep into the tundra. You’d best work on morale, before the North starts picking them off as their spirit fades. This once, I’ll agree with you and forego a bed since I don’t use them anyway. Select enough of your men to enjoy that room. I’ll have you know, Caius, that I’m not just some common cocksleeve. I don’t think a woman of such standard would have a Kingdom on its knees, begging.”

The night sky above rippled with lightening, the thunder roaring through their chests several moments later before Arielle disappeared into the shadows, their conversation over. She couldn’t have cared less if Caius went immediately to Hadrian like a child would to a parent, to tell him of the foul words she had used and how she’d threatened them both. Let him hear of it, she thought to herself, so he knows I have no plan to be swooning over anything. Boots were angrily swung over her shoulder as she trudged through the thicket, her mood suddenly more bitter.

It wasn’t so unsurprising that Arielle sought Morteus out after spotting the tavern.

“Get up,” she nudged the man curled up beneath a log with her bare toes. Arielle tossed him a knife into the dirt, her intention clear.

It was met with a cock of a dark brow. “I thought you were sleeping in luxury tonight. Changed your mind?” Dark eyes shifted to the steel blade in the dirt by his side. Only an hour ago, they had been at each other’s throats before she’d wandered off with her beloved king. And now she sought the man who offended her so rudely in order to get something off her chest? He laughed darkly as he shoved a fist into the rough grass, sitting up as he clasped the hilt of the knife. “What happened? Your beloved king just prove me right?”

Like a starved beast, she rushed him, moving so quickly that the seasoned criminal didn’t have any time to move. Bodies collided in a meaty thud, slender arm weaving around his middle as she tackled him to the ground.

“Fucking h—”

They had no rules when duelling so violently, Arielle not vain enough to worry about bruises across her face or deep gashes. Scars were a story, for her, a tale of survival. Morteus, however, was far more vain than his leader. While he had become quite skilled in evading her strikes against him, she was fuelled by violent rage that only drove her fist harder into the side of his cheek. Eye socket groaned, the bone shifting beneath her knuckles that split with the force of the hit, Morteus left clutching at the side of his fist as she straddled him and grinned with a dark rage.

“Been a long time since I landed a hit on your face.” Arielle sneered proudly. “You’re getting slower, old m—”

Morteus shoved her from atop him, not caring when she rolled in the dirt in evasion. He kicked up, landing in a crouch, facing her with a sinister snarl. The pair glowered at each other, like animals sizing one another up, their eyes alight with violent rage. Neither moved, both crouched in the dirt and ready to fling themselves at each other, instead watching and waiting for the other to lunge.

Then, straightening with a rather bright smile on his face as he rubbed knuckles against the bruising shape of his cheek, Morteus chuckled. “Welcome back. I’d lost you for a second there.” His fingers brushed over the already blackening bruise, withdrawing to reveal a concoction of their mixed blood sticky against his fingertips.

Arielle, too, stood and straightened, but she did not share in his smile. “Do you want to know what I think?” Morteus cocked a brow but wasn’t given the chance to answer before she continued, her words pressured with a bitter tone. “I think I’m sick and tired of you men defining who I am. A cocksleeve. A threat. A wanton whore.”

“Oh?” He laughed darkly as he tossed the blade back to her, not bothering to watch as she caught it skilfully and tucked it back into its sheathe. Morteus turned his back to her, picking up the blanket to shake it out and neaten it against the log. “And who’s calling you such things?”

Arielle grinned dangerously as she eyed a tree. “A man whose ear’ll be bloody.”

 

[Fates.Gamble]

There weren’t many in this world who could sneak up on the Shield of the King and remain undetected for as long as Arielle had. But then that was no surprise; this was the same woman who’d broken into His Majesty’s castle, making it all the way to his person before anyone could catch up. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d managed to ease drop, but surprise struck him like a bolt of lightning from that gathering storm, when he heard the unmistakable whistle of a blade half a second before before a sharp sting across his ear. Caius recoiled, Hans grasping at the jolt of his sword, though no more than an inch of steel was drawn before the reality of who was attacking dawned on him.

Stormy grey eyes settled on Arielle’s hiding spot even before she emerged. A confident smirk crept across his thin lips once she did. But he cared little for the words she introduced herself with. Instead his attention fell to the black knife firmly embedded in the tree. It was a fine little stabber, but even more interesting than the obsidian was the raven engraved into the blade; a symbol associated with the Eirlean royal family for as long as history could recall. Richly made, too... he thought. Maybe it even belong to one of them at some point.

“Is that so?” He taunted Arielle right back at the end of her speech. Eyes watched her carefully as she skulked about, all threats and glares. “Sorry if I don’t share in your confidence about that.” Orbs continued to track her even as she came dangerously close and pulled the knife free. His hand was still resting firmly on the hilt of his weapon, though it remained in its sheath. His ear stung, hot and swollen, and he could feel the trickle of blood escaping the narrow cut. But he ignored the annoyance, just as he ignored the comments about her cunt.

“You sure that knife wasn’t meant for Hadrian! At least at some point?” Caius shot back, gesturing to the blade she was cleaning, and the raven upon it. “Or maybe it was a token for Leander instead. Well, father or son, I suppose it doesn’t matter in the end.” One was already dead, and she’d have to get through him for the other. Then again, the Royal prat was making it much more difficult, what with all his sneaking off to be alone with the Queen of the North and her raven crested dagger.

His eyes narrowed with a steely look as she spoke of leading them into the tundras. Little did she realize, Caius also knew his way around the north. Not to the same extent as Arielle, but enough to know if she tried leading them anywhere overly precarious. Not that that didn’t describe the entirety of the damn north. But he was surprised to learn this was not so much another threat as it was a shared interest in his concerns. Even so, he grit his teeth and stared her down. Did she think she was queen already, ordering him about like that? He might have said something if there was any logical argument to make. But the point she made was the only reason he’d come in the first place.

“At least one of you has a bit of sense about it,” he grumbled. Even if it wasn’t very much sense, for in his experience the two were like toddlers with one another; all emotion no brains. Caius had never intended to play the role of father, least of all to a couple of grown ass adults, but he piped up anyway. “A bit of advice for you, as well,” he started to say, just before Arielle took her leave, “If you want the southerners to see you as something other than a cocksleeve, then stop acting like one around him.” It was, after all, her brazen flirtations, no matter who was around to witness them, that fueled these rumors, and Caius was nothing if not blunt.

With nothing more to be said between them, Caius watched her go. His attention turned to the sky, however, at the rumble of thunder, powerful enough that he could feel the vibration in his chest. The pellets of rain were picking up as well, like frigid, wet bullets. It might not be cold enough to turn to snow here, but he knew it would be a different story if that cell drifted into the mountains. And by all accounts, that appeared to be the case. Thoughts of warning Hadrian, both of this and his encounter with Arielle crossed his mind. Caius, however, decided to hold his tongue. The king had made his position quite clear when it came to his Shield’s advice, and he was rather sick of being stuck in the middle of their aggressive games of lusting and war.

Let him figure it out on his own for a change, Caius decided, stalking back towards the encampment with fingers dabbing at the cut on his ear.

~
Be careful what you wish for, I suppose, Hadrian thought bitterly, taking another hefty swig from his tankard. The ale was all this place had to offer, and it was swill compared to the usual commodities of his palace. But at least it was strong, and it warmed up his innards and made light of his head, which was appreciated.

Just what sort of game is she playing at anyway?

Originally, Hadrian thought he might be glad if Arielle decided not to follow the invitation behind his kiss. Much like the churning weather outside, his mind now roiled with the truths that Caius spoke. The morale and trust of his men was waning, and would require much care going forward, lest they all react in the mirror of Lord Mandon; perhaps some even more viciously than his minister.

Does Arielle suspect this as well? Is that the true reason she gave up her room?

At first he thought the choice was made because she would be sharing his bed instead. But more than two hours had come and gone since the weary group sauntered in, shaking off the rain and the cold, and surprising Hadrian by shuffling up to the quarters he’d left for his future bride. It was now painfully clear that Arielle was not only her room, but rejecting Hadrian as well.

Green eyes narrowed with confused fury as he stood there, watching fat drops of rain assault one of the hazy windows of his room. Was this revenge for his own ruse? Was Arielle simply giving him a taste of his own medicine? Even now, he could picture the way he’d pinned her down on the bed that day; picture it as easily as though it happened only just this morning. He could feel the phantom of her warm, strong legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him in...

At first he’d taken it as a victory; a smug confidence that she wanted him intensely enough to eat right out of his hands. But now that the tables had turned, and Hadrian was the one left high and dry, the memory now came with a pang of regret. He couldn’t help but wonder how different things might have been had he given into temptation that day. Would these frustrations even exist between them? Or would it have given birth to revolt, the way Caius predicted?

Hadrian considered seeking Arielle out himself, if for no other reason to satisfy his curiosity. Where was she? What was she doing? Why had she denied him? What could possibly be worth her attention more than an evening with he: The man at the center behind her every thought and action last several years? Or so Hadrian liked to think, as they battled for the control of his rightful kingdom. And he might very well have tracked her down to ask, if it wouldn’t have made him such a hypocrite. Instead, he found himself much like Arielle once did some nights ago; tending a lonely fire for one who would never seek its warmth, only his drink and twisted thoughts to offer him company.

Hadrian wasn’t sure how long he sat there before he finally decided to stoke the flames, the ambient light and pleasant warmth grating next to the bitter irritation he felt. The sting of the cold was far more fitting to the poisonous mood he found himself in. By that point he’d had enough ale that he could hardly consider it anyway, nor even manage to undress. He nearly fell over toeing out of his boots, and one, fumbling attempt at the rest of his clothes saw him collapsing into the bed without further effort. His head was clouded enough that he could finally put Arielle and everything else out of his mind. The rickety old bed was far from comfortable, but, drunken as he was, Hadrian felt like he was floating on the clouds. All he had to do was close his eyes and drift away...

Come the morning, however, the peacefulness that found him in sleep seemed to piss right off. The bright glare of sunlight off a thin, fresh layer of snow was the first thing to greet him, and blear eyes were none too happy with opening to find it. Worse yet was the pounding in his skull. Even though he’d had far more to drink the night he ventured to the brothel, the fine wine of Kings was a right sight easier on the body than the piss these soldiers drank. The pain in his skull was accompanied by the churning in his gut, as well as aching back from the poor facilities. After pulling himself out of bed it was all Hadrian could do to sit there and pull himself together for a moment; until the chilly air saw him up and moving again.

Wouldn’t be a problem if Arielle had warmed my bed as intended... He begrudgingly remembered, all those frustrations from the night before settling right back into their place. He chose to forget all about the hesitation that conflicted him in the first place. Now that she’d proven a no show, it was easier to lay all the blame at her feet than to admit he wasn’t sure what he wanted to begin with. And that kept Hadrian as cold as the morning air, leaving him unwilling to find her and clear things up. He treated the others around him much the same, acknowledging none of the men if he didn’t have to. His worries of their morale were all but tossed aside by the time he ordered the preparations for their leave, and at far earlier a time than the group was led to expect the night before.

Even the snow was no more than half an inch; a damp layer that had only fallen in the earliest hours of the morning as the rain tapered off. But he let that plague him too, and imagined all too clearly what that tempest must have left in his wake further north, a prospect which had bothered him throughout the night. So much for Arielle’s promise of good weather, he thought venomously to himself, even as he saddled Knox, the squire who was working at it rudely shoved away after fiddling with a strap for too long. All the while his Shield watched from abaft, holding his tongue, almost spitefully, as he watched Hadrian fall victim to his foul tempers.

Truth be told, Caius was beginning to feel just as bitter. Though he’d been doing it for years now, he’d never actually expected to be playing guard dog for royalty, and he certainly never expected to be caught up in the games that royalty loved to play. His scabbed and stinging ear was now a constant, irritating reminder that he he was caught between two feuding children, and he was feeling as good about that as Hadrian was about everything else. Even so, his curiosity couldn’t help but be piqued, and his eyes jumped to Arielle, wondering if she found herself in just as poor a mood as her beaux.

These two will tear down the kingdom faster as a couple than they apart, he decided. Yet still, he held his council. His last attempt at course correcting this relationship left him with a bloody ear, and he wasn’t about to put any other bits on the chopping block. Not for either of them.

 

[MoldaviteGreen]

Arielle had gotten very little sleep that night, not that she seemed to mind by morning. Whatever mood that had settled between she and Morteus the evening of their arrival into the small lake town had dissipated in their time alone. Suspicious, perhaps, particularly if one had been privy to their time in the shadows. While Morteus was not a man born of the North, his beloved wife had been, a woman so beautifully radiant that none of the southern wretches could match her. She had been a strike in the tally of losses during the raids, Morteus on the battle front fighting for her family’s freedom and rights, only to return home to find his dear wife dishevelled, raped, and slaughtered. From that day forward, he had nothing else to lose, the life that she had been carrying inside her following her to the grave. He had stood by Arielle’s father, even if he believed that their path had been altered and shifted away from their ultimate goal. When the redhead young woman had stepped forward after having disappeared into snow country after the death of her father, Morteus had known that she was someone he could blindly follow into battle. Even if her womanly charms brought her trouble.

“Do you remember the Battle of Freo?” Morteus watched the young woman from over the lip of the ceramic tankard he held in one hand, calloused fingers wrapped around the oak body as he took a long sip of the ale. It hadn’t been long after their little altercation that Arielle had slipped inside the tavern to request several tankards of ale; paying for them in gold coin just as Hadrian had the rooms, before she’d carted them back behind the thatch roof building to share with Morteus. His eyes, now, were shimmering as he reminisced of the battle he could call their best yet.

Arielle, having come to sit opposite him with back against a mossy log, held her own half-empty tankard between two hands as she rested elbows across the knees that were tucked loosely towards her chest. Her laugh was short, somewhat amused that there would even be the slightest chance that she could forget such a good fight. “Of course I remember. What of it?”

Morteus drained the ale down thick throat, setting the tankard aside as he stretched out muscled legs before clasping his hands behind his head rather casually as he grinned with fondness. “It was the first time I had seen you absolutely demolish the field around you. All the battles before had been strategic, nowhere near as chaotic as that one. I was sure that I would have had to grab you by the scruff and get you out of there, but you were determined to be right in the thick of it.” He chortled deeply, tilting eyes to the midnight sky as he leaned firmer against his own log. Arielle had only been seventeen then, the pain of her father’s death still fresh and prompting vengeful rage. Morteus had been unable to convince her that she needed to remain behind the lines, and not in the thick of the fighting, but she had proven a very good point. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

“A good leader should fight with their men, otherwise I am no better than the prick upon the throne.” Arielle chuckled, taking a long sip of ale before she swept the back of her hand across her mouth to collect the foam that clung to her lips. “I had a good point then.”

Morteus fixed her with a look. “And you still do.” Silence encased them, not even the soft chirp of the crickets about them doing anything to distract them from one another’s gaze. Arielle stared back, her look edged with cold appreciation while Morteus levelled his own hard stare at her. “All this time, you have fought beside your people; trusted them to have your back just as you had their’s. Not once did you refuse to be in the thick of danger, you sought it out each time even if I told you not to. When did you stop fighting beside your kin?”

“Never,” Arielle growled. “I still—”

“What makes the southerners any less than your kin?” Morteus spoke over her, hushing her into silence. “They are arrogant, yes. Closed-minded. Bigots. Materialistic and narcissistic. But are they any less worth fighting beside?”

“There will be no more fighting,” she countered. “That’s the whole point of this deal.”

“Is it?” Dark brow cocked.

Arielle scowled at him darkly. “It is.”

“The North didn’t trust you for several months. You’d been raised by your father and only visited at your mother’s behest. To them, you were not of the North. To the noblemen, you were not of the South. You were both and you were nothing. You came to me because you could see your father’s band of rebels falling apart, bickering amongst themselves and ultimately destroying his cause.” Morteus lowered his gaze to the second tankard of ale at his side that he slipped fingers around, bringing it to sit on his knee for a moment. “They wouldn’t listen to you. In fact, I believe that they practically despised the idea of a little girl commanding them simply because she shared her father’s name.” He continued, despite how Arielle grew bitter as she took another mouthful of ale and held it upon her tongue to taste the sour. “You had to fight for them to trust you, didn’t you? You had to prove not only your worth but your capability. You had to show them that while you were born of both worlds, that your soul belongs to the North in every way possible.”

“Get to the point, Morteus.”

“Why are these soldiers any different?” He rose an eyebrow as he took another swallow of ale. “Why are you expecting them to trust and to follow you simply because you are to be Hadrian’s wife. Is that all that you want to be known for, a woman bound to the King for the rest of time, but nothing more? As you are now, you are nothing but a vessel to provide the next heir. They do not respect you and they likely never will. You are the rebel from the North that slaughtered their husbands, brothers and sons. They are likely to love you just as much as they love the fungus between their toes.” Thick fingers drew through hair peppered with threads of silver. “How are they any different from the people of the North who first scorned you?”

Arielle sat in contemplation, quiet for several moments before she set her tankard aside by her knee. “They’re not.”

“Precisely.” Morteus grinned. “If you even want to have a shred of power as Hadrian’s wife, you need to begin your work now. The love of the people is a mighty thing when used correctly and given in free-will. Imagine what you could achieve if you had the sway of the soldiers’ devotion, an army that would follow you to the end of the earth just with a single word. They may love their King, but they would love a warrior who fought and suffered beside them that little bit more. There may be no more battles, your goal may be to restore peace, but how do you propose to sway Hadrian’s decision when it comes to the freedom and the rights of the North? When you have his army firmly in your grasp, he won’t be able to defy you.” Arielle said nothing, looking down into the swirling amber of the ale before she released a breath into the chilled air that misted before her face. Morteus, taking her silence as consideration, added shortly; “Just think on that while you rest.”

The falling snow had done little to dissuade Arielle from shallow sleep, though her mind swirled with the events of their visit to the lake. Had Hadrian wished for her to follow him to his room within the tavern? Had their been a silent invitation that she had missed and would later come to regret? Was that kiss nothing but a game in his attempt to ‘make her his’ as he had so bluntly stated in the conversation that she had overheard? Was anything that she thought she had seen in his eyes real? The branch Arielle had climbed upon dug roughly into her back, but the redhead didn’t mind in the slightest. Pain, on many occasions, was the only thing that she knew to be real. It either existed, or it didn’t, there was no in between. It was a sharpness that prickled her back from the bark that kept her sane during the night while her mind flittered about the questions rolling inside her skull; part Hadrian’s fault and part Morteus’.

Arielle was awake by the time the sun crept lazily from beneath the horizon, clawing back the sky as it shot ruby, orange and vermillion across the landscape. A beautiful sunrise that came as a warning that Arielle didn’t need to receive. The storm had grown far closer over night, lingering just above as an ominous threat that was yet to release its deluge. Snow would be coming soon, and while she knew that the men would be most comfortable to remain here, she could think of nothing worse than being trapped in a small fishing village. The North wasn’t far from here, less than a day’s ride, and their journey through the foot of the mountains wouldn’t be particularly perilous if all went to plan.

Boots crunched into the fresh layer of snow that warned of more to come, Arielle sinking in to her ankles as she trudged across to the dark beast which awaited her so ever patiently. Velvet years flicked back in greeting, the horse chuffing beneath his breath as he shifted his weight from hoof to hoof. Basatia has lingered beneath her tree, but not shivered once, seemingly unaffected by the cold just as the woman he had come to trust. Milky fingers slipped over the length of the horse’s face, from twitching lip to the long hair that fell wildly between obsidian eyes. “Etorriko naizenagatik eta geratzen zaidanaren beldur naiz. Partida aldatu da orain, espero ez nuen modu batean. Nire tripa, bihotza edo buruan fidatu behar al naiz? Bakoitzak zerbait guztiz ezberdina esaten didalako.” Arielle leaned in close, her forehead pressing against the cold hair of the creature that looked above her. I fear for what is to come and what I have left. The game has changed now, in a way that I did not expect. Should I trust my gut, my heart or my head? Because each tell me something completely different.

“You didn’t seem to sleep very well, I hope it was because you were considering what I said last night,” Morteus announced as he paced towards her, having changed into another set of loose fitting riding leathers as he clasped his horse’s reins. “Plans have changed,” he announced suddenly. “I received word from our allies in the city that the Lords are growing impatient. I wanted to see you through the mountains, but it seems that isn’t possible. I’ll be riding back today.” Be careful, his eyes said to her. A heavy hand caught her shoulder, squeezing it firmly before he moved away to mount his horse giving her a polite nod as he peeled away. Morteus, however, didn’t entirely manage to sneak away from the travelling band, instead drawing his horse to a halt when he met the Sheild’s eyes. “Aye,” he called to the man, smirking upon spotting the sliced ear. “Seems you and I learned the heat of her anger last night.” Morteus motioned to his blackened cheek, the indigo creeping up into his eyelid. “Best move a little quicker if you intend to insult her.” He said nothing more as he yanked harshly on the reins, setting his horse a gallop as he left them behind.

Arielle was slower to emerge from behind the tavern. She had indeed contemplated Morteus’ words, but perhaps not in the way that he would have wished. He spoke some mild truths, that soon enough in the peace time she would becoming nothing but a wife and a vessel, her duty no longer to protect her people but to provide a healthy heir. A future that Arielle did not wish to consider as her teeth grit at the thought. The peace may bring no more battles, but she was far from done fighting for her people. Basatia blew hot air against her face in an exasperated huff, one that earned a silvery laugh before she moved to his side and vaulted herself atop to thick-muscled beast. She sat regally upon the creature’s back, her feet hanging and held by nothing as she tangled fingers loosely into thick mane. They moved as one, so in tune with one another as a gift from the North.

When she did finally peel away from the shadows, Arielle pressed narrow shoulders back and straightened spine as she nodded politely to the man she had threatened several hours ago. “Caius,” she said a little flatly, though there was a small hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. “I trust that you slept well.” Mismatched eyes slid towards the dark haired sovereign, who seemed to be in a rather terrible mood. Copper brows narrowed as she watched him shove aside a man who was too slow in readying his horse. “Seems that Hadrian had a less than favourable amount.” She looked back to the Shield. “But I suppose that only provides me opportunity to discuss some things with you while we travel towards the Gates.” Copper brow cocked. “That is, if you are interested in hearing me out?”

 

[Fates.Gamble]

Caius’ attentions fell on Morteus at the call. The words confused him at first, but the motion towards his bruised cheek cleared things up soon enough. The Shield scoffed at the words of warning. They don’t call me Caius the Quick for nothing, he thought, ruminating on his days upon the blood soaked sands of the arena. Life was simpler when it was down to a couple of men and their swords. Hang this political nonsense.

“I would suggest some haste to you as well,” Caius said, nodding towards the man. “Those pompous lords have never done well unsupervised.” That said, he watched Morteus like a hawk as the man gathered up the reins and sped off, heading back the direction they’d come. His omens to Hadrian still wore heavily on the Shield’s mind; he was not fond of this situation with Morteus. Putting a known rebel in control of so many men could only end one way in his mind. But the King’s mind work differently. He’d surprised Caius with clever tactics more than once. It was entirely possible Hadrian had something up his sleeve for just such an event.

But judging by the way he’s acting now, Caius thought, surveying the flustered regent, Probably not.

Arielle’s curt greeting washed away those thoughts, bringing Caius to appraise the future queen with an icy look. He could feel his ear stinging at the sight of her.

“My lady,” he responded, just as flatly. Thin lips pulled into the lightest of smirks when she asked about his rest. “Like a babe,” he told her. “And you? I assume the cold wasn’t a bother?”

But of course not; she was from the far north, further than Hadrian had ever been. This might have been enough to make their king shiver, but the two of them had tasted true cold and lived to tell about it. All the more reason she was wise to give up that room, Caius thought. It was almost a shame to give Hadrian the credit instead of her, the one who actually arranged it. But Caius didn’t feel the least bit guilty about that, not even when he spotted a couple of the men passing her sneers. It was in their best interests that Hadrian remain in their favor. Though, the king seemed like he was trying all he could to undo the good merit Caius had only just bolstered.

Arielle seemed to think much the same of her intended, prompting Caius to pass her another look from atop his horse. He considered her comment about Hadrian, yet said nothing. The king turning to his cups during a foul mood was nothing new; the one bad habit that came back with him after that three week stint of an abdication. Instead of fleeing the throne, from now on he just flew into the proverbial arms of wine and spirits. As much as The Shield respected Hadrian, he had to admit that the king could frustrate him to no end sometimes.

Before he could properly respond to Arielle’s request, they were interrupted by a sharp yell from their sovereign, an impatient order for their group to move out and get back on the road. Caius took up the reins and started off at a little trot, following in the wake of Hadrian’s horse, his pure white coat matching the blanket of snow. The wagons trundled along beside them, turning a once quiet morning into a rather noisy affair as they left the hamlet and began the next leg of their journey. Caius kept stride with Arielle, his eyes locked on the one riding ahead of him as he considered her invitation once more. To his ear, this sounded like the beginnings of some makeshift deal. Whether he should be plotting such things without Hadrian’s confidence was questionable...

“If you ask me, I’m not the one who needs talking to,” he told her, stormy eyes still locked upon the back of the king. They were the ones who needed to work their shit out. He was a glorified body guard, not a true member of the council. Yet, given the Kong’s current state of mind, perhaps he would be doing their kingdom a disservice if he did not at least hear her out.

“Let’s hear what you’ve got to say then,” he finally relented, giving his courser a little pat on the neck as she whinnied with impatience. “So long as it’s your only words that reach my ears this time.”

~
Hadrian’s sea foam eyes came to drift closed as Knox shuffled on, his hooves cutting a path through the wet snow to reveal the muddy road beneath. He tried to let go of his temper, to let it all flow away down river the way his mother taught him when he was young. His breathing grew slow and steady, his body moving naturally with the motion of the saddle as he tried to shut out the world around him. It was a dreadfully difficult thing to do with the migraine he suffered, made all the worse by the racket caused by the wagons and wheelhouses. Louder, and more frustrating still, were his thoughts of Arielle, and this rut of back and forth in which he’d found himself with her.

The thought of his rebel with her halo of red hair was all too distracting, and Hadrian found his eyes cracking open, calming meditation abandoned as he surveyed the crowd for her instead. Before long he spotted her, and Caius with her, lingering abaft. And, from what he could tell, speaking amongst each other privately. Curiosity, and admittedly, a bit of jealousy struck him.

Now isn’t that interesting... He contemplated, turning back to the road with a snap of the reins, prompting Knox to pick up his pace. And what do those two have to discuss, I wonder? Perhaps Caius was passing on the selfsame relationship advice to Hadrian’s fiancée; a thought that soured the king’s mind as much as any other reason.

For a man who does not want to be on the council, he thought bitterly to himself, He sure likes playing the role of advisor.

Hadrian tried to ignore them, deciding to attempt his mother’s meditation techniques once more. His eyes fell shut, his breathing slow and steady once again. But try as he might to let his mind drift, Caius and Arielle’s discussion felt like a black hole, sucking in his thoughts and chaining him down. Paired with the fact she’d denied him her company last night, it was a situation most vexing. Stubborn as he was, however, Hadrian simply refused clear the air.

Why didn’t she show last night? The question plagued him. Even before that kiss Arielle hinted she would be paying his chambers a visit. So what changed? He might have thought it the kiss himself, but Hadrian had a hard time believing that. He could still feel the ghost of her lips pressing into his, the taste of her tongue still lingering in his memory.

No, she enjoyed that kiss, he told himself, certain of it. The way she kissed him back was proof enough. So what was the trouble then? Perhaps we’ve taken this game too far. Maybe it’s grown too confusing... Or maybe, he started upon a new train of thought, She heard what Caius said to me after all.

It would do much to explain why she was speaking with him now, continuing a discussion Hadrian remained ignorant to. It wouldn’t be the first time Arielle stumbled upon their private affairs. She’d somehow seen them leaving that brothel too. If he was half as paranoid as his father he might have thought she was keeping eyes on him, much like he’d been on her. This was all jumping to conclusions, of course. Until he spoke with her, Hadrian couldn’t be certain what triggered this new distance. So, awaiting that, the best thing to do was let it go.

He decided to give the relaxation method one final try, focusing on his breath again. As the thoughts built up, he did not ignore them. Instead, he let them pass the way his mother told him to.

“Don’t focus on your negative thoughts,” She would tell him, while demonstrating the correct posture and breathing techniques. “That only anchors you to your frustrations. Let them come, and then let them go. If you find yourself too distracted, just focus on your breathing. Deep breaths in, and exhale slowly. Eventually, you’ll find happier thoughts to lose yourself in.”

His mother’s remedy proved the trick, as before Hadrian even realized it, his frustrations had melted away, gone down the river to be replaced by the memory of her instead. It was strange to think he could barely remember her face, yet picture certain events as clearly as if they’d happened yesterday. Presently, he lost himself in the reverie of the day she’d taught him this technique. A day which, much like this one, began with frustrations over his future bride...

~
Hadrian could still recall the anger that gripped him that day, a mood stormy enough to darken the castle, even in the time of its luster. He could scarcely see past his fury as he stomped through the halls, no particular destination in mind. He just wanted away; away from everyone and everything, but especially her. And of course, as the crown prince, Hadrian could have whatever he wanted. Except for when it came to things that truly mattered, like this.

How could he possibly be alone when he couldn’t even venture the castle halls without an armed escort? His every step was accompanied by the sound of greaves, his father’s men following him from the moment he’d stormed off the pitch. He was more than adept at ditching the guard detail back in those days, but on this one particular day he was too frustrated to come up with any clever plans. Besides, those plans always worked best when Arielle was in on it. Together they could outwit just about anyway; getting away to explore the rooftops or have some other mischief filled adventure. Today, however, his usual partner in crime was the very reason he wanted to be alone.

With no clever plan, Hadrian finally decided to round on them with his fury instead. “Won’t you two bugger off?!” He shouted, spinning about the face the pair that followed him. “I don’t need a couple of dim witted tin cans to babysit me!” To his chagrin, his babysitters weren’t the only ones to hear.

“Hadrian!” Cracked the furious voice of a woman, much like a whip.

Again, Hadrian spun about, this time to find himself face to face with the Queen, who’d only just rounded the corner to witness her son’s foul language and temperament. Guilt struck him like a punch to the gut when he saw her honey-gold eyes, normally soft and loving, harden with disappointment. Yet his fury remained, especially when she looked to the guards and saw them off with no more than a nod. Apparently the words of a prince were meaningless, yet one look from his mother and away they went.

Once they were alone, the Queen turned her attention back to her son. “That is no way for a prince to act if he expects to earn the loyalty of his subjects. Those men are only here to protect you.”
“More like smother me,” Hadrian grumbled sourly. “I just want to be left alone. I can’t even take a piss without someone trying to shake it for me.”

“Well, I see a bit of Leander is brushing off on you. Young man, just because your father speaks that way doesn’t mean you have to as well.”

“Come off it! Can’t I go?”

“No. Not until you tell me what’s gotten into you. Besides, I can use some help in the garden. Come along.”

Hadrian uttered his complaints, though begrudgingly followed in the end, his eyes downcast to the marbled floor, where he watched the hem of her lavender dress sweeping across the patterns. A lecture from his mother was the opposite of what he wanted right now. It was just more smothering, when all he felt he needed was space to breathe. You’d think there’d be plenty of it in this massive palace, but it was surprisingly hard to come by.

At least the garden was as good a space as any to clear your head, if not for the motherly watchdog that opened the way for him. The air was fresh and fragrant, her beloved wildflowers granting an ocean of color to combat how drab he felt inside. As expected, the queen began to pick at that, prodding him for the answers she wanted.

“Any reason you want to be left alone?” she asked, head held high even as she passed her son a curious glance.

“Because Arielle won’t stop bothering me,” Hadrian told her pointedly, knowing the queen would never let him go until they got to the root of the problem. “She’s always hounding me to do this or that. She never lets me be! It’s like I’m only there to amuse her.” He was still bristled about her latest attempts to get his attention, one that left him feeling almost as embarrassed as it did annoyed.

Kamala chewed over the response for a moment, letting Hadrian stew about that while she led them to an unfinished plot of soil. “I was thinking maybe some Blue Cornflowers would be lovely here, don’t you think?” She suggested, prompting Hadrian to nod along, clearly uninterested as the queen knelt down to tend to the soil. “I thought you two had fun together,” she went on, jumping back on topic even as she handed him a gardening tool to join her. “Did something happen between you?”

Hadrian did not answer at first, accepting the trowel from her with a bitter note of silence. After a moment however, he sighed and gave in. Kneeling beside the queen, he stabbed his trowel into the dirt, pretending it was the heart of an enemy. “I was practicing with Ser Royce out in the courtyard,” He told her. “We were working on my parry, but I just couldn’t get it right.” Words trailed off as he dug around in the soil a bit, eventually smoothing it out the way he was supposed to be doing.

“Ari was there watching, and she just heckled me the entire time. ‘I know proper southern ladies that could swing that thing better than you!’ She told me. As if she knows anything about sword fighting. She’s just some stupid girl.”

Queen Kamala seemed to bristle at that, though you wouldn’t know it by her ever relaxed composure. However, a bit of that faded away when she stabbed her trowel into the dirt, stood, and swept away from the gardening plot. Hadrian remained where he was, giving his mother a curious glance as she approached a pair of garden hoes and snatched one up. At first he thought she might return with it. Instead she planted the tool upside down at an odd angle, then gave it a firm kick just above the metal attachment, snapping the wooden shaft clean off its head.

“Pick it up,” she told Hadrian, tossing the splintered stick over to him. Leaving his trowel behind, he retrieved the staff from where it landed, then stood to watch the queen do the same with the other hoe, the flat of her golden shoe making short work of the tool after another powerful kick. As she turned to face him, holding her stick at the ready, Hadrian cane to realize what this was.

“Take up your stance,” she ordered him firmly.

Hadrian had a good chuckle at that. His mother had a fierce look in his eye, but she looked nothing like a warrior ready to teach him a proper parry. She looked more like the southern ladies Arielle pokes fun at, with black hair pinned up high, flowing, lavender dress, and fancy shoes. It made for a goofy sight after facing down the fierce Ser Royce in padded leather and mail. Even more ridiculous was her choice of weapon. A mother with a bit of broken garden hoe might have been enough to scare a boy who’d snuck a sweet, but not him. That was, until her pink lips pulled into a smirk, and she made him regret not taking that stance.

Hadrian had never seen his mother move like that. Fast as a lashing cobra she struck, giving Hadrian little time to defend himself as her stick came whistling towards him. He barely managed to get his own stick up in time, and once he had it was easily batted away, his arm jarred by her unexpected strength. In the same fluid motion, the queen delivered him one of those fierce kicks, twisting with the momentum to sweep Hadrian’s legs right out from under him. It felt like his knee might blow out when the force struck his calf, though he barely had time to process that before he fell, slamming hard on his back. An instant later, the rounded tip of Kamala’s stick was inches from his nose.

“Still think girls can’t know a thing or two about sword fighting?” She asked down at her dazed son. “In my country it is not only the boys who receive martial training, but we princesses as well. Learning the arts, or indeed, winning a fight doesn’t depend on what’s between your legs, Hadrian. It comes down to your instincts and your focus. You can’t a win a battle when you’re too busy fighting your own thoughts. If you hope to achieve anything at all, then first you need to learn to clear your head.”

And so did she teach him, lowering her weapon to help the prince back to his feet, only to sit him down and show him the proper breathing technique. It took some time, but eventually Hadrian felt his vexations slipping away. Once he was ready, Kamala took it upon herself to train with him, helping him with his parry far from the jeers of any red headed spectators. For that he was very grateful. He could only imagine what she might say if she saw him swap from training with a stout man like Ser Royce to his own mother... Though, after witnessing the Queen’s ferocity and strict teaching method, Hadrian was starting to miss Ser Royce.

It was brutal at first, his mother using every wrong move as a chance to teach him a lesson with a proper welt. The bite of her sparring stick was the only thing that felt real after a while, the cracks and wallops echoing throughout the garden. After a time, however, Kamala’s attacks began to feel sluggish. The scales began to tip the longer they went on, to the point where Hadrian thought his mother might have decided to take it easy on him and finally let him win. He’d gone from scarcely being able to dodge her blows to successfully parrying five in a row. After one particularly strong blow from Hadrian, which she barely managed to counter, she finally called for a cease fire, only to stumble back and plop down against a nearby, low brick wall. Hadrian eyed her with some concern, noting how positively winded she looked.

“Are you well?” He asked, lowering his stick.

“Fine, Love,” she told him back, a little breathless but managing a warm smile. “Just a little peckish, I think. How about we go to the kitchen and see if we can’t find a bite to eat?”

That sounded well enough to Hadrian, yet he couldn’t shake the concern as he watched his mother sit there a while longer, seeming almost hesitant to move. She gathered herself up quickly enough, though, rising back to proper stature as the two left their ‘swords’ behind and quit for lunch.

~
After the reminiscence, Hadrian was left feeling bittersweet. His frustration and confusion about Arielle was no longer to be found, but loss and sadness managed to creep into its place. Thoughts of the late queen weighed heavily on his mind, and though it was pointless, he couldn’t help but wonder if things might have been different had he known the truth then; known her exhaustion was the onset of the sickness that would eventually take her, and not the result of exhilarating battle as she led him to believe.

No use asking ‘What if’, he told himself as they approached the gates, the wilderness beyond leading towards the mountains that stood as sentinels of North. The past is dead and gone. Time to let it go and do what I can for the future instead.

It didn’t make a difference what Arielle thought of him in the long run; working with her to end the war was all that mattered. He would make damn sure that a pretty faced and pair of mismatched eyes did not cause him to lose sight of that again.

 

[MoldaviteGreen]

The flat tone of voice did little to deter the red-haired woman as she straddled the black beast regally. Instead, it earned a smirk that matched the coolness of his words, only one corner of plump lips twitching upwards in something almost wicked, though the shine to her eyes that usually accompanied such mischief was evidently absent. Midnight horse shifted his weight from side to side, seeming to grow impatient beneath her as he made move to follow after the white steed that cut a path towards the Gates; as if Basatia couldn’t stand the idea that a Southern horse would be the first to make it to his homeland. Hot air gushed from flared nostrils as he huffed, soothed only when Arielle reached to run finger through dark mane and tangle with hair to tug gently, the touch reassuring. Narrow shoulders were rolled back, tense muscles forced to at least appear relaxed as her chin was tilted a little skyward before she continued to address the man who wished she weren’t present.

They both knew very well that the chill of the night’s air would not have bothered her, and that if she got little sleep it was due to something else. Arielle may have been born to a Southern Lord, but she was every bit her mother’s daughter; a child of the North. The irony of his comment went partly ignored, not worthy of a sharp-witted retort as she continued to smirk at him; a smirk that dimmed and vanished immediately when Hadrian shouted from over his shoulder as he continued to cut a path far ahead of them, instructing them all to get a move on. Just as her steed had done, Arielle released a breath of hot air from her nose, a sound of exasperation as she set her jaw with a clench. Two steps forward and one step back. Why is it that this man seems to be far more moody than me? Pink tongue ran the seam of lips, leaving behind a wet sheen that quickly dried from the harsh chill of the wind that caught red wisps of hair.

“I think that you and I both know that there is no talking, let alone reasoning, with Hadrian when he gets into one of these pleasant moods,” she stated rather matter-of-factly. “Only the foolish would try and engage with him when he’s like this. I suspect that his moods have grown a little fouler than from what they had been as a child, and I don’t particularly fancy the idea of having my head chewed off today.” Thick muscles rippled beneath her, Basatia shifting closer to the earth-coloured courser as if could sense the impending importance of the conversation; the goal to her game. Milky fingers clasped a tendril of red hair that had made its way about her throat, encouraged to stick to her neck by the harsh wind, only to tuck it behind pierced ear. At Caius’ reference to their interaction the night prior, Arielle laughed beneath her breath, the sound dark but not entirely callous. “Don’t talk about me as if the only thing I have to offer is trouble and a pussy to fuck, and you and I won’t ever have any problems.” Mismatched eyes slid to set Caius with a piercing gaze from their respective corners; the sapphire blue and forest green a little more brilliant, flecked with gold that either had never been there, or had just gone unnoticed. Her gaze lingered for several moments, before it swept forward to the sovereign that rode on stubbornly ahead; his spine straight, shoulders shoved back, but posture tense.

Freshly fallen snow crunched beneath heavy hooves as Basatia edged closer to Caius’ earth-coloured courser, as if he could sense the sudden shift in Arielle’s mood and the seriousness of the conversation that now lingered. When she spoke next her voice was quiet, though her words firm; as if she knew that she would need to convince Caius of whatever it was she would say. The man had little reason to listen to her, let alone agree or believe, no matter if what she said made sense. The look that slid to the man at her side was now far from anything mischievous, the usual troublesome shimmer to her eyes gone.

“You see things that Hadrian does not. While he has his back turned, you are the one who witnesses the sneers, the scowls, the metaphorical daggers thrown at his back when he treats them just as he did so before; shoving them aside when he’s in a foul mood and becoming impatient. You are the one who hears the rumours they whisper when they think no one is listening, the one who hears what they truly think of their King who rides on ahead of them. You see and hear all of this, and more, and yet you waste your knowledge on giving advice to a man too jaded to understand that you come from a place of concern when you make comment about where he should stick his cock. You pissed me off last night, but you spoke more sense than I gave you credit for, I’ll admit. That dagger was thrown in anger of you discussing my body as if it were something to have and possess, but that doesn’t mean I did not hear your warning, Caius. My aim would have been far sharper if I allowed my temper to best me last night, without any reason to shift it to your ear.” There was a small twitch to the corner of her mouth, the beginning of a smirk that was quick to evaporate before she continued. “I am not foolish enough to believe that it would not be in my best interest to return Hadrian to his throne alive and well. This may seem as if it is all a means to an end for me, and perhaps it is, but it is undeniably in my best interest to ensure that Hadrian is safe, no matter how long it takes for us to return to Aquarin. That also means that the trust his men have in him must remain strong, throughout the entire journey. I can appreciate that, despite it being my decision while I kept morale in mind, that you lead them to believe that it was their kind King to gift several of them a night’s rest within the tavern while I slept out in the cold, I am not a proud enough woman to be bitter over such a thing. If they are to survive this journey, if any of us are to make it out of the North alive, they must believe and trust in one thing. You southerners have always struggled with your faith, a trait that I will never understand and, perhaps, may continue to ridicule, but your trust in your sovereigns has always been unwavering. I would hate for them to contemplate staging a coup now, after so many decades of dutifully serving Hadrian’s line.”

Copper brows drew together, those vividly coloured eyes darkening as she set Caius with a pointed look, one that dared him to look away and argue with her logic. “Do you understand what it is that I’m saying, Caius? You and I aren’t all too different from one another, despite what you may lead yourself to believe. Your duty is to ensure Hadrian’s safety, to enact his wishes and to instruct on his behalf. Mine is to ensure that none are left behind in this wilderness that we are about to venture into. Sounds vastly different, but is considerably similar. The morale of your men, of Hadrian’s men, will be a concern of mine while I lead us through the North. It is something that I must take into account, just as I must factor in the encroaching storm that lingers behind us. You are the only person that is able to share with me their true thoughts, their whispered plotting. Am I able to trust that you will share with me what you learn of their state of mind, until I return you all safely to Aquarin; that we will be able to work alongside each other to ensure that their trust and faith in their King never waivers?” Arielle only allowed him several moments thought, seeming to deem that enough to make a decision as to whether he would engage with her plans to thwart any attempt at a coup and to improve the dwindling morale.

“I hope that you’ll consider what I have said. I would hate for our journey to take an unexpected about-turn because the men would be foolish enough to consider staging a coup at the Gates…” It may have seemed preposterous, albeit possible, but it wasn’t the farthest thing from fabrication. Arielle knew that all it took was a seed of distrust, a seed of doubt that would soon bloom into revolution; that was how she had stolen the power of the people from the mad man who had attempted to take over her father’s cause after his death. All it had taken for Arielle to gain control, power and the love of the North was to plant a single seed of doubt in one man’s mind, to sit back and watch as it spread like wildfire through dry brush. It would take an idiot to believe that something similar could not occur within Hadrian’s men while they were forced into a foreign wilderness, to traipse through the lands of their enemies and the stronghold of the rebels that they had so passionately fought against, now to seek peace. “You southerners have a saying; keep your friends close but your enemies closer. It seems fitting in this situation, albeit the potential enemies wear Hadrian’s crest, and don’t appear all too villainous yet. Evil takes time, but once it is sired, it does not take long to brew.”

If Caius could not gather, the conversation was over; Arielle having nothing more to say and clearly not interested in waiting to hear his response. Caius, she had gathered from several days of quiet assessment, was a man who preferred contemplation, despite how he had been labelled as muscle and not brain within the hierarchy of Hadrian’s court. She would allow him this, given that there would be little to ponder during the seemingly endless string of days spent travelling between nomadic villages. The Shield was left to stew on her words, the meaning behind them and the promise she had suggested, as the redhead split away from him and the band of men at their backs to press on ahead of them, remaining between the travelling party and the impatient, brooding King who refused to slow; not quite joining the moody man that was her fiancé, but neither leaving behind the men that were less fortunate to be marching on foot. Arielle remained equal distance between, despite how the electricity running through her veins was begging her to make a bolt for the Gates, to cross over into the wilderness and welcome all that she had left behind. This journey was more than just returning home. The North was something beyond just an origin, a place, instead in possession of something that none of those in her company could understand or imagine. Arielle had sacrificed a great deal in order to carry on her father’s fight for freedom and equality for the North, most under-appreciated or yet to be recognised by Hadrian.

They already think me trouble. They already think that I’m an evil snake, twisting my way into the heart of their beloved King, with aim to poison and corrupt him. What else will they think of me when they discover what I harbour? In her own quiet contemplation, Arielle considered many words which she was sure that they would one day use; all synonymous with what she was, but none entirely accurate. Southerners had always been particularly blind to the way of the world, oblivious to the powers of the North that they, too, had once embraced. They put so much importance in bloodlines and history, that it’s almost ironic that they have forgotten their own origin, of how this country was forged from the Wilds. The smirk which she shared with herself was secretive, dark even, as mismatched eyes were drawn up above the angered King to the sentries that guarded the North.

Silvery mist clung to jagged edges, an eerie shimmer to the year-round snow that clung to the peaks far above them. The Gates were anything but welcoming, far from inviting as they called travellers to dare to cross the precarious path which cut between their mountainous masses. Each had names that she was sure the Southerners had forgotten. Soldadu, the mountain which cut highest into the grey sky, its peak so far into the gathered clouds that it seemed to disappear. Aita, the monstrous stone that sat with a wider base, its formation far more smooth than that of its mirror. In the common tongue, their names were far less impressive; Soldier and Father, two entities that guarded and watched over those bold and becoming weary as they trekked through the mountain pass into the wilderness that waited to devour them. It was easy enough to navigate to the Gates, so long as one didn’t succumb to the growing fog that began to gather about their feet, luring them from their path. Such was a mystery of the North, seeming to not want visitors and willing to do anything in order to avoid them. It wasn’t uncommon for one to hear of men wandering from their path, sure that they would make it to the Gates before nightfall, never to be heard of again. Just as it wasn’t uncommon for travellers to find bodies beside snow-covered logs, mummified by the ice and chill; having been lured from their journey by entities yet to be understood. Arielle had promised that she would return them to Aquarin safely, but she could only do so if the men trusted her intentions enough to follow and not stray from the path.

The North, it seemed, was not opposed to their visitation; allowing Hadrian to continue towards the Gates without so much as a waiver in direction, nevermind the men behind her who remained with Caius who didn’t stray from their path. As they continued to march dutifully onwards, several pairs of eyes would have been cast upwards at the rickety building that watched from above, set several feet in the sky on wooden-post legs. The watchtower was scantily manned, most belonging to the village from which they had just departed. Four figures stood at each corner of the square construction, each not moving from their post, or seeming to acknowledge the travelling party that passed beneath them. Arielle gave them only a glance, curious of what they must think should they spot and recognise their King riding ahead on his own, with the red-haired traitor just behind. Would it raise suspicion? Or had they already received word from their brothers who they had come to relieve this morning that their King was journeying into the North in order to preach peace?

They pressed forward, several more hours stealing away energy and determination as they seemed to approach the Gates at crawling pace.

A shiver ran the length of her spine, the electricity that was tingling the very viscera of her veins having shifted to sensitive nerves, no longer the exciting thrill as it had been. Instead, the sensation had shifted to a far more foreboding presence, the promise of foul weather and lives yet to be lost. She was thankful then that she had not promised to return all of them safely to Aquarin once their journey was deemed done. The storm had done little but follow hot on their tails, encroaching on their travelling party to linger overhead now as Basatia picked up pace to join Hadrian’s steed, falling into step beside them both. Nothing transpired between the engaged pair, neither seeming to want to be the first to destroy the silence that was beginning to grow uncomfortable. It was Arielle, however, who was the first to break, her words a solemn warning as she looked from the Gates that swallowed them in their shadow to the man at her side.

“Whatever it is that I have, or have not done, to displease you, I need you to trust me from here on forward,” Arielle stated simply, though her tone low as if she were speaking carefully. “I cannot promise to keep you safe if you doubt me, otherwise.” She said nothing more as she set her eyes ahead, Basatia pulling forward and cutting off Hadrian’s courser as if to prove a point as she forced the man behind her to slow in order to allow the others to catch up. “It won’t be safe for you to go off on your own once we pass through into the North, no matter your intention or mood. If you want to be returning to Aquarin, body-count free, than we all need to keep together.” Arielle spoke from over her shoulder, though grew silent as the travelling party approached from behind to join them in their slow march forward.

The ground transformed beneath them, no longer coated in a thin blanket of freshly fallen snow, but covered in a thick sheen of aged-snow and ice. The valley between the mountains sat before them, Arielle taking pause at the mouth, appearing less like two separate mountains sitting side-by-side, but instead more like one mountain having been cleaved in two with a narrow space wide enough for just two steeds, or a narrow carriage, to pass through. She offered no words of encouragement, her own nerves beginning to eat away at her as she prayed to the Gods that the men at her back had not grown bitter enough to attempt a coup here and now. How deadly it would be for us all if they were foolish enough to attempt so. Rocks had fallen from far above, splinters of the mountain slope that had crumpled and come to become wedge not far above the mountain pass; coated and slick with ice that dripped chilled water onto those who passed below. The landscape before them was nothing but grey and white, a painting of the bland winter world that awaited them at the other end.

Far behind the nervous redhead, a mouse within the army of bold men, a slender frame shivered within cotton and thick leathers. His boots had grown damp from the fallen snow, never having the time to mend the tear at their soles. Black eyes were beady, receding into the un-handsome shape of his face, framed by pale, short lashes. Bort was a young man who had been ridiculed for having been chosen as part of the King’s travelling party, deemed useless and nothing but a bother and a risk to himself. Spindly in frame, with no meat on his bones, he could do little to protect his sovereign if it came to it. Instead, he had been chosen for a much more devious reason, a reason that was only known to himself and one other. The bottle sat snug against the pale skin of his waist, tucked tightly against him by the waistband of brown trousers that hung loosely over warped legs. His pace was slow as he hesitated by the mouth of the mountain pass, falling behind the party as they dutifully pressed on behind their King. Bort, instead, licked chapped, drying lips as his hand quivered against the small, glass bottle. All he needed to do was to wait for the perfect opportunity, to leave behind no trace but the one which would frame the perfect perpetrator. He hadn’t been more sure about anything in his life than his ability to please his Master. Succeed and you will no longer be the sniveling waste of space that everyone believes you to be. Succeed and I shall gift you all that you could ever dream of, and more.

 

[Fates.Gamble]

“Easy now,” Caius had responded right away, brushing off Arielle’s opinions that Hadrian might be unreasonable at any time. (Even if he did happen to agree.) “That’s your future husband you’re speaking of, after all. Never would have took you as the sort to settle down with a man who couldn’t be reasoned with.”

All snark aside, she had a fair point. Any attempts at convalescing the king right now was likely to worsen his mood. The least Caius could do was hear her out, though he couldn’t very well be overheard agreeing with her slanders; not while tensions were so high. So, the Shield kept watch of the road ahead, purposely avoiding Arielle’s gaze. Even still, he dipped his head, giving her a nod in affirmation as she noted the change from Hadrian’s younger years.

“A crown will do that to a man,” Caius told her, eyes yet cast ahead. “Perhaps a woman as well,” he hinted, wondering if the pressures of ruling would have the same effect on Arielle once Hadrian saw fit to place one on her brow.

At her callous laughter, his attention fled from Arielle once more, even under the weight of her gaze. Caius found himself mulling over the brazen comment, the initial retort that sprang to his mind sinking right back down. He’d made his opinion known the night before; anything he said now would prove redundantly useless, and above his station to boot. Time to stop playing the adviser, the Shield thought to himself, once again lamenting the position in which Hadrian placed him.

But it seemed he would have no choice but to fill the shoes, as Arielle’s eyes fled to their sovereign yet her mount drifted closer. If they didn’t come off as colluding before they certainly looked to be now, what with the questionable proximity and hushed voices. For that reason, Caius wasn’t entirely sure if he favored the secrecy of their conversation. He fought the urge to meet any wandering eyes, however, trying to appear as uninterested as possible even as he drank in the rebel’s every word. It was like listening to his own subconscious for a moment, the woman sharing in his concerns over the morale of their merry little band of travelers.

The Shield’s eyes darkened some once she brought up the night before, his usual stony expression appearing a little more sour. Her smirk washed away quick enough but Caius could feel the smugness lining her voice over mention of the dagger, slight as it was. Another retort came bubbling up, but he managed to hold his tongue once more. There was about as much sense to biting back as there was giving advice to these two. At least the topic was quick to pass, with Arielle soon revealing she knew about his trick of misinformation. Once again, their minds seemed to be running along the same track.

“The people call you many things,” he started to say, “But if you speak true, then no one can call you a fool.” Of course, he wasn’t just up and ready to believe she meant no ill will to Hadrian. True enough, she would have to be worse than a fool to attack him now, but once they were in her peoples lands and surrounded by those loyal to her, the odds could easily change. But, like him, Arielle was fearing an event just as threatening, yet perhaps twice as unpredictable. Were it to happen, it would spell not only doom for the Aldrich line, but for their nation as a whole. Worst of all, Caius was already anticipating such a turn. Even now, he was plagued by the words he’d overheard last night; consumed by the anger behind them:

“Marching is right to our bloody deaths, he is!” One soldier had been shouting to the rest. “If the gypos don’t kill us, the cold will!”

“Never mind this visit to the North. I’ve heard he’s to marry the wench...”

“That’s the rumor I hear as well.”

“What? Take her for a Queen? Is he mad?!”

“Pah! Could you imagine? Poisoning the Aldrich line with traitor’s blood?”

“If he doesn’t bring our kingdom down in ruins their gypsy spawn is sure to.”

“The Kings of Eld must be turning in their graves...”

Caius shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, trying to put the ravings out of his mind, to no good effect. Even if he could, Arielle was right there, demanding an end to his silence by asking if he understood her meaning. Did she take him as a fool even after he declared she was anything but? An irritated sigh was his only response, the warmth of his breath forming a misty cloud upon the frigid air. Finally, he allowed his attention to settle on her, skepticism flooding his eyes while she spoke of her duty.

“Very kind of you to take such a burden on yourself,” he said doubtfully, his gaze searching for any falsehoods. “Surely you don’t assume responsibility over Hadrian’s men already? The two of you are a long ways matrimony, and considering the bumpy start, what’s to say we’ll ever see the end of that road?” But Arielle had a counter to that, and Caius could not argue with her reasoning.

“Self preservation, then,” he grumbled quietly to himself, turning his attentions back to the road. By his philosophy, it was as acceptable a reason as any.

Then came the inevitable question; the point of this entire discussion. Hard eyes leapt right back to Arielle upon her request, searching harder than ever for the unspoken reasoning behind it. It sounded an awful lot like she was asking him scheme with her behind Hadrian’s back. Sure it was lined with good intentions, but what if she planned to take advantage of it herself somehow?

Impossible, he soon told himself. The men hate her; there would be no angle in it.
Though he’d decided as much, he remained unreadably silent. Only a simple nod was given when she asked him to consider it; as if he could do anything but. It was now a buzzing in his skull that was present before their conversation, and it remained even as she galloped away, albeit a bit louder perhaps. Another, more frustrated sigh fell from the Shield’s lips now that he was alone. A cautious gaze was passed over the contingent, no man of which was looking overly pleased. Like a broken record, their complaints rang through his mind again, and the Shield found himself looking over every single one of them, wishing he could hear the silent grievances they kept even now.

~

The the rumbling of the ancient gates could be heard even before they reached them, the giant steel opening to permit their party as instructed the day prior. The true meaning of their business was left unspoken, leaving just enough said to allow their passage without question.

Fearless as the stallion was, Knox came to hesitate in the looming shadow of the parting gates. The rocky path looked anything but inviting, while the uncertainty of his men was palpable enough to set the beast on edge.The horse gave a fickle snort, unhappily stomping a foot while they lingered a moment, gazing out at the precarious wilderness before them. While Knox haltingly viewed the trail ahead, Hadrian’s eyes roamed upward, past the gates to the towering mountains beyond, right up to the silvery mist which capped them. Soldadu demanded the most attention, and Hadrian had to crane his neck searching for its peak. It was anyone’s guess how tall the Goliath truly was; for all he knew, the mountain could stretch for miles beyond the grey shroud obscuring it’s peak.

Confronted with the majesty of her homeland, Hadrian felt a strong desire to look back and catch Arielle’s eye. He avoided it now as he had from the moment he realized she’d broken away from Caius, choosing to ride on her own somewhere between the king and the rest of his following; but never up to Hadrian himself. Until now, it seemed. He could hear Basatia’s hooves thundering towards him, as though his refusal to acknowledge Arielle had summoned her right to him. Or perhaps it was the hesitation; a product the unspoken thought which said they should be crossing this threshold together. Whatever the reason, she approached at last, granting her presence for the first time they shared that kiss, and Hadrian could no longer keep his eyes from jumping right to her.

A jumble of words were in his tongue, none of which he could spit out before Arielle broke the silence. He frowned some at her choice of words, finding it bold of her to assume she was the source of his irritation. A childish response on his part, he knew, for there was no denying it was true. Besides, had he not proven his trust by now? If it were up to him, this jaunt to the north wouldn’t even be happening. This whole journey was because he chose to trust in her decision. But still, he could not find the words, or rather the will, to say as much. Instead he merely tapped Knox in the flanks, ushering the horse. As Basatia and Arielle rode ahead to bar them, however, the stallion have a loud whinny and came to a hasty stop; courtesy of his king’s harsh tug on the reins.

Hadrian’s expression grew dark enough to rival the brewing storm, that inner peace he’d find having slipped away in the passing hours. He managed to keep his temper, though, one hand wrapped tightly around the horn of his saddle while Arielle went on about the dangers. “I’m in no need of coddling,” he promised, a bitter note to his voice. His attention shifted momentarily to the rest of their company, the bulk of which were nearly in earshot. Hadrian couldn’t say why the thought of acquiescing to her boiled his blood the way it did. He’d already made peace with the fact that Arielle would take the lead from here. This was, after all, her element. So why now did his frustrations mount?

Because I lost, he eventually decided. I was ready to give into her completely last night.

The truth was, he’d fallen victim to the same desires he’d baited Arielle with, and only for her to deny him in the end. Hadrian was aware of just how foolish he was being, then. There was little choice but to back down from his stubborn show of pride, which he showed with a firm nod and a softened expression, though only slightly. By then the party was too close to speak freely, for which Hadrian found himself grateful. Clearly words still needed to be spoken between them, but he was in no mood at present. He did, however, turn to face his contingent and bark out a few words of encouragement.

Despite the heartening words, they moved sluggishly behind their leader, their progress dreadfully slowed by the narrow pass. A nervous sort of energy settled over the group as they ventured into the valley. Hadrian could hardly blame them for their wariness. Like the others, he was constantly glancing up above, eyeing the fallen shards of rock with great skepticism. The frozen rock, most of it large enough to crush several men at once, looked as though it could break loose at anytime. Yet, concerning as their treacherous path was, Hadrian had even bigger concerns in mind.

Knox kept close to Basatia, staying less than a step behind while the two nobles led the way in silence. It was a palpable silence, despite the moaning of the wind and the ruckus of the army traveling at their rear. After how close he’d gotten to her last night, this sudden distance between them was maddening. Hadrian felt much like the fallen stones above them: Stuck in place with no escape. Thanks to the bitter gale chilling his face, he was feeling just as frigid too.

The king stole a quick glance of his bride to be, the memory of her warmth flooding him as he recalled the night before. He found himself craving that touch; craving the way their entwined bodies helped him to forget all about the cold. Yet, just as present as his cravings were his misgivings. His eyes swam with want and frustration both as he watched her, wanting to bring it up but unable to given present company. Even if he kept his voice low, his Shield was close enough to hear every word.

And there’s that to consider, Hadrian thought, recalling the lengthy conversation between Arielle and Caius. Just what was that about, anyway? Again, now was not the time to bring it up, but the silence was more than the king could bear. The trip through these moments would be miserable enough without his brooding to pile on. As such, Hadrian found himself reaching for other topics of discussion; looking for some way breaking down this wall without getting too personal.

“So,” he began, saying the first thing that came to mind, “Are you sure Morteus will be alright in his new position? My council will eat a man alive if he isn’t prepared.” It was much the echo of Arielle’s own warnings about the north. Reminded of that, Hadrian guided Knox just a touch closer to Basatia, carefully following their lead across the increasingly hazardous road.

 

[MoldaviteGreen]

Perhaps they were a while away from the matrimony that hung over their heads, both a threat and a promise, but Arielle had her own intentions; even if they weren’t entirely clear at this moment in time. Why was it that a woman couldn’t wish well upon a man she had lost sight of? Why was it that simply because she had fought against him, the man that was the face of the monarchy she wished to usurp, that she couldn’t find a place for that same man within her heart? Afterall, was Hadrian not the same soul as the young boy who had received boundless teasing when they’re younger?

Instead, Arielle lingered somewhere in the space between marching men and their patriarch; not belonging with the war-hardened men that believed her still to be traitor, but not quite brave enough to face the man who rode on ahead, able to turn his back upon her so easily. She only half allowed herself to become distracted in thought, half of her mind wondering whether it was her luring him out into the lake or whether it was her absence that night that had him in a foul mood. The other half listened to the call of a lone raven that flew high above, dark wingspan almost blending into the storm that crept closer towards the travelling party. They’d need to find shelter soon enough, and Arielle knew that it was unlikely that there would be any of her kin waiting on the other side of the mountain pass; they’d likely ventured further North into the tundra as they prepared to celebrate the equinox.

Swallowing pride, she had moved towards him, barring his entry into the narrow pass until he heard her out. Arielle spoke what she believed to be truth, that she couldn’t keep the King safe if he didn’t wish to listen to her, or decided to be foolish and reckless enough to believe that he was fine to ride off on his own, even several feet away. He bit back at her, wounded, and Arielle visibly flinched from his tone as coppery brows drew themselves together in a scowl. Just what had she done to deserve such a sudden change in heart? Basatia grew impatient beneath her, shifting his weight from hoof to hoof as he refused to stand still unlike Hadrian’s pale and obedient steed. It was a simple shift in her position upon his back that had the midnight black beast turning in place, beginning the slow trek through the pass cleaved between the mountains.

As Hadrian encouraged Knox closer to Basatia’s rump, sticking close as they ventured into the icy gloom, Arielle spoke from of her shoulder, a curl having fallen loose to hand in a wild ringlet against them side of her face. “My intention wasn’t to coddle you. My intention was to make sure that you’re safe, just as I would hope you would me if we were venturing into your terrain. It’s what old friends do.” Friends. Lovers. What were they? Arielle clenched her jaw tightly, the muscle visibly pulsing at the angle and corner as teeth grit. Maybe she’d said too much.... A weight had settled into her chest, not easily brushed aside, when she had realised that Hadrian’s foul mood was likely caused by her. Causing displeasure, it seemed, was something she was particularly skilled in.

The sudden snort of hot air from velvety nostrils jarred Arielle from her own mind, her fingers running the muscular length of neck and brushing aside inky mane as she soothed Basatia. Her felt her shift in mood, the uncertainty, the lacking of her usual self-assuredness. It was as if the creature were reminding her that she was crafted from the North, and shouldn’t ever doubt herself. Mismatched eyes scanned the terrain before them, rising momentarily to the sharpened peaks of stone that lingered above, several groaning at their passing as if threatening to drop at any time. So long as they moved quickly, and steadily, they wouldn’t, but trusting his men not to make a commotion was not something she found easy to trust.

How odd it was, to have the man at her back that skin warmed at the thought of, and yet she felt so unable to turn her gaze upon him. What would he say if they were alone? How harshly would he scold her? Was it something that she had done, or had not done when he had wished that she would? Would this become their new pattern; coming together in heated passion only to become unable to face one another the day after as they screwed over what could have been? How toxic were they destined to be?

Yet, the fingers in Basatia’s mane tightened just a fraction, the rebel wishing the beast to slow his pace to match that of the steed that trailed behind. She wouldn’t leave him behind like he had her. His question, his attempt to open up a conversation to break the palpable silence between them, was met initially with silence. How was she to respond but keep her voice that cool smooth that made him believe that she was far less bothered with his mood than she really was?

“That man is the most stubborn creature I know,” Arielle said from over her shoulder, only glancing backwards at him to gift Hadrian the profile of her face before eyes turned forward once more. “Good luck to them if they try to eat him alive. That man would taste like nothing but leather and bitterness.” Narrow shoulders rolled backwards, lean muscles stretching as spine straightened. “I think they’re equally matched, don’t you? Only one is speaks better with fists and the others with a sharp tongue.” Mouth was dry, Arielle growing uneasy under his gaze but didn’t dare squirm as she lead the party through the crevice. “We shouldn’t speak. Everything echoes, and the wrong octave may cause one to shift.” A cream finger pointed upwards at a sharp rock that was balancing above them, caught by the two walls of the cavernous pass as if in warning.

There may have been many things that she wished to ask, and plenty more that needed to be said, but Arielle led the party through the pass in silence. Only once did Basatia’s hooves slip on the slick ice underfoot, almost sending her lurching sideways before he quickly regained balance and found footing. Only then did Arielle look backwards at Hadrian in silent warning, asking that he be careful as he followed through the slick ice.

Arielle became a woman torn.

At her back, the men covered in thick robes of wool as they carried necessary equipment held her back; the rebel knowing that she needed to remain with them in fear that they would take her sudden rush forward as a sign of treachery and abandonment. But before her.....gods, how long had it been since she had felt this?

It began as a pressure at the base of her skull. A warm tingle that soon shot down the length of her spine and crawled along her nerves. The men about her would have been absent of such a feeling, none of them sharing her ties to the North, but those with keen eyes would surely notice the changes if she wasn’t careful. Mismatched eyes that were painted in muted tones became vivid. Azure blue and pickle green. The pale of her skin became a silky cream. Arielle was glad, in that moment, that she was rugged up just as the men at her back; covered head to toe in wool and fur. It was something they wouldn’t understand, something that they couldn’t possibly comprehend; declaring her mad like they had the rest of her kin decades ago when they had tried to share tales.

Hadrian would have been able to see it, the shift in the woman before him. Toned muscles relaxed, all tension leaving her body, as Arielle sat a little straighter atop Basatia. Arielle was a woman freed, as the party made it to the mouth of the pass, birthed suddenly onto a thin blanket of crisp snow; as if the mountain ranges held back winter from the southern summer. The men spilled out from the shadows of the crevice, not keen on the Northern tundra that awaited them now, but perturbed by the hanging rocks and icy daggers that had loomed above, not a single one of them wanting to remain within for a second longer. Arielle, however, remained at the precipice of her homeland, as if she wasn’t sure whether she could truly believe that it was right there.

Arielle might have been carved from marble, battle-weary and war-hardened, but, in that moment as she gazed out at the endless white that glistened before them, features softened into a look of hope and love. She was home. It would only be a matter of days before she would be truly complete; before soul would return to her. Skin tingled with the realisation, those mismatched eyes several shades brighter but glistening with a single tear that refused to fall.

It was blinked away as Hadrian would pass by her, Arielle tucking the loose curl behind an ear as she took a deep breath of the icy air as she smirked; “Welcome to the North.”

They’d press on for several hours, the men growing weary but Arielle promising them that they needed to make camp elsewhere. A mountain, far smaller than those they had passed between, had loomed, Arielle guiding the party towards its foothills and towards a cavern. At the mouth, she decided, would be the best place for them to set camp; away from the chill of the wind, protected from a potential blizzard, and not left exposed. It wasn’t long before tents had risen from the ground, snow having been shoveled aside into a mound. Arielle had taken the time to see to Basatia, brushing down coat and feeding him grain from her palm as she pressed her forehead to his. Though, it wasn’t long before Arielle sought out Hadrian’s company.

“Hadrian?” Her call came quietly, unsure, as cream hand gathered the flap of his tent and pressed it aside, Arielle stepping within the space warmed by a small log fire in the centre, though remained lingering at the threshold. “I think we need to talk.”

 

[Fates.Gamble]

Much like Arielle, Hadrian also found himself wondering at their definition. Were they truly old friends? Those days felt a lifetime ago; They’d spent far much more time trying to kill one another than anything else. Despite that, all it took was a simple reunion and an off the wall proposal to make them victims in a contest of heavy temptations; temptations they were clearly both struggling with.

Why is it always just one big game with her? Hadrian asked himself. Whether it came down to fighting, fucking, or even just plain conversation, it always felt like some twisted form of back and forth. Like now, Hadrian finally striking up the will to speak with her, only to be hushed a moment later. The King’s expression fell flat when he was ordered to keep his silence. Arielle’s reasoning was sound enough; something he could not deny once seafoam gaze had drifted upwards, spying the looming threat from on high. The groaning ice made for a mournful and eerie sound, keeping the whole party on edge as they pressed on. And yet, Hadrian could hear the strain in Arielle’s voice. The king prided himself on his ability to read people as much as his ability to remain unreadable, and that intuition was telling him he’d somehow gotten under Arielle’s skin as well.

Regardless of the reason for it, Hadrian followed the suggestion, his voice falling silent while he pondered what she told him. Would Morteus prove an even match? Caius certainly had his worries, even if Hadrian did have contingencies in place. In truth, however, the king was more concerned with the sly devils that sat his table. With Lord Francis already proving to be a snake in the grass, who could say what other vipers might surface from his ranks? Every moment he spent away from his throne was an increasing risk, making this royal tour of Arielle’s less attractive all the while. Worse yet we’re the dark clouds rolling in, blackening an already far too murky sky. Hadrian willfully chose to ignore the roiling clouds and bitter gusts, though, granting Arielle the trust she so greatly desired when telling him the weather should not prove an issue.

Rolling out his shoulders and arching his back, Hadrian stretched in the saddle, trying to keep his muscles from getting any stiffer. The hours spent in the saddle were wearing him down, but not nearly so much as those who had no choice but to venture on foot, often with heavy packs and goods lashed to their backs. Their king wasn’t much of an encouragement, considering their need to remain mute, and the fact that none of them were pleased about their heading. The North remained something to fear in their minds, whether anyone was accompanying them or not. The group was a nervous bundle of energy, half expecting her people to ambush them at anytime. The further they cut into these mountains, the greater the possibility became. No man could say what would happen before they finally reached the vast tundra beyond. And none dared speak on the mounting concern, for the terrain here could kill them as easily as northern assassins.

Loathe as he was to admit it, Hadrian and Knox were not nearly as suited for this journey as Arielle and Basatia. The pure white stallion snorted with much displeasure at the path his rider insisted on. More than once the poor beast slipped on the icy sheet below them, But luckily had kept his balance thus far. The sage guidance of Arielle kept them on the neatest trail, but the poor boy was tossing his head in annoyance before long, and Hadrian could hardly blame him. He soothed the steed as best he could, calming him with soft strokes and gentle cajoling. Left to contemplate what might have happened if he’s taken the lead as intended, the king suffered a bruise to his pride.

There was little to do but brood while they continued through the mountains, but as the narrow pass began to widen, the realization that the land was changing had an uplifting effect on Hadrian. Not nearly so much as Arielle, of course, who had not only changed in demeanor, but seemingly appearance as well. Outside of her posture he change appeared slight, quickly chocked up to a trick of the mind when Hadrian caught a sideways glance, catching the gleam of her eyes from beneath her hood.

Have they always been so bright? He wondered, thinking back to the way he’d stared into them just the night before. Hadrian followed their roaming gaze, looking away from the beauty of her face to soak in the beauty of her homeland instead. Beauty might be a subjective term, he realized, spying that vast blanket of white. Looking at it from here it seemed an endless, frozen desolation, yet it also held a measure of peacefulness; of much needed quiet after a lifetime in the bustle of the capital.

A light smile rugged as his lips when she welcomed him to her home, the north seeming to answer with a large blister of frigid wind, one that cut right through the king’s heavy furs and left him with a chill. “It’s not a very warm welcome,” he joked, though he’d be lying if he didn’t say he felt a little bud of excitement growing. There it was: The hidden world he’d waged war against for years now. Unlike the Eirlean countryside, the scars of conflict were not to be seen here.

Or perhaps the fresh snow has simply covered them...

The opinion was left unspoken as they left the mouth of the gorge, spreading out into the white world before them. The men were understandably tired, but Hadrian had to agree with Arielle over their chosen place of rest. The chilly gales which crept through the mountain pass were child’s play compared to the gusts of the open tundra. The cold would always be the biggest threat of Arielle’s domain, and Hadrian would not see them forget that over a bit of lethargy. He wasn’t looking forward to a prolonged march, either, but pressed on without complaint. Knox’s powerful legs cut a path through the powdery snow, head bobbing with momentum as they continued. Eventually, the stallion grew sluggish enough that he drifted, straying into the Bastia’s wake to reap the efforts of the lead horse’s path instead.

Their persistence eventually paid off, seeing them to the mouth of the cavern that would serve as their shelter. A sigh of relief spilled from Hadrian’s chapped lips, his cold and weary bones more than ready for a rest by a fire. Yet, there remained much busy work to do between now and then, and King or another, Hadrian labored right alongside the rest of the company when it came to setting up camp. It was grunt work to be sure, but the activity helped to keep him warm, rather than shivering in his boots while he waited for someone else to do the job. Eventually, though, once enough of the snow was cleared and a fair few tents raised, Hadrian left the men to the men to their devices.

Unlike the rest of the tents, uniform and clustered together, the King’s pavilion was granted a measure of privacy. Raised several yards away from the others, it was as unmistakable in placement as it was in grandeur. Still, the spacious canvas left much to be desired when compared with his usual comforts; even the run down inn from the night before would have been a welcome step up. But it was warm enough, and Hadrian had no need of ritzy accommodations when they’d be back on the road soon enough. The very thought of it was exhausting after having already spent two whole days in the saddle, though for now he was simply glad to be settling in for the night. Or so he planned...

In fact, he’d scarcely even shrugged out of cloak before Arielle’s voice rang from outside, only for the woman to appear herself a moment after. Hadrian passed the copper haired beauty a look over his shoulder, eyes sweeping her face inquisitively. The king was painfully slow with his response, shifting his attention back to his coast, which he carefully folded and stowed away along with his riding gloves.

“Do we?” He finally asked of Arielle, turning back around to face her in full. One might think it a sarcastic question, but his voice sounded genuine in the query. Eyes searched her face for an answer even as Hadrian made a bold approach. Maybe there truly was no need for words; Maybe they could just pick right back up where they’d left off in that lake. As his eyes gazed over the pulp of her lips, it seemed a very tempting prospect. And yet, for whatever reason, Hadrian came to a complete stop. He lingered before her, what little space he’d left between them feeling strangely impassible...

I suppose we do, he realized, ultimately turning away, retreating instead to a small cartonnier in the corner, on top of which sat the bottle of wine he’d ordered be set aside for him. A stout drink always made these sort of conversations more tolerable. He’d only been left the single glass, perhaps giving the illusion he was a little more self serving than intended as he filled it up to the rim without offering the same to Arielle.

“Was your conversation with my Shield not satisfying enough?” He jabbed, setting the bottle back in its resting place before taking goblet in hand, and turning to face her yet again. After a lengthy draught from his cup, the spirits providing some much needed warmth, he decided to quit with the pot shots.

“About what, exactly?” Hadrian relented, waiting to hear what thoughts might be teasing her mind.

 

[MoldaviteGreen]

The warmth of the rumbling fire, placed strategically beneath the highest point of canvas ceiling, coaxed Arielle deeper within royal tent, though the look cast from over broad shoulder had her taking pause. So much swam within those pale blues, emotion that had barely been touched. A swallow was taken, a shallow bob in her throat as her mouth became arid and dry. Arielle may have been a bold woman, a creature carved from the North itself, with little that truly perturbed her. However, the coolness to Hadrian’s tone had her clasping her elbows and holding arms tight to her chest, not daring to venture any further towards him despite how she wished to steal space away from regent.

Cheek was smudged with the dark grime of mud, Arielle having participated in the rising of the tents and not leaving until all were up and tethered down. The braids of copper hair had come loose, wild wisps falling about her face in ringlets as they licked the sharp edges of her jaw. “Yes,” she murmured softly, her words almost not carrying to his ears as she watched him go about his business, “we do.”

What did she have to say? Would he listen? Would she simply make a fool of herself by wishing to engage in open conversation and put a pause on their tantalising game of back and forth? What if she had seen something where there had been nothing, been a delusional fool?

Arielle was eating herself up inside as knuckles paled, her grip upon her bent elbows tightening as she watched Hadrian set down his gloves and cloak, before turning to her and stalking close. Heart hammered against ribs, a pink, hopeful, bloom rising to the apples of her cheeks as she swallowed deeply once more. Close but not close enough, Hadrian seemingly deterred by something as he cast his cool gaze down upon her before retreating towards the small table tucked in the corner. Several steps were taken, her feet carrying her forward in attempt to follow him, before Arielle realised that she was moving and came to a sudden stop. Teeth grit tightly as he spoke of her conversation with Caius, the muscle at the corner of her jaw pulsating with tension. She didn’t need to explain anything to him. Hell, she didn’t even need to be here.

“I would say about as satisfying as the one you shared with him last night, on your retreat back to the tavern.”

Attention was stolen from him, Arielle giving him her back as she moved towards the thick bedroll upon the floor, decorated in dark furs. She settled amongst them, tucking legs beneath her to fold into a lap as cream fingers smoothed through the furs, fisting within them but not tugging. Her words were allowed time to settle into his mind, allowing Hadrian time to chew them over, as she began to brew. Arielle would have been lying to herself if she said she was not moved simply by his presence, a liquid heat pooling within her belly as skin tingled, electric. She had come to settle where she was, atop his bedroll and furs, because she knew that if she remained standing her feet would have carried her to him and a conversation would not be what they would engage in.

“I’m not foolish, Hadrian,” Arielle announced solemnly, “I know that your somber mood could be attributed to my lack of presence last night. I’d like you to imagine, however, how I would feel having overhead such a blunt conversation only to engage in exactly that. I couldn’t face you, not after that, but it was not because I didn’t want you.” Rose lips were pressed firmly together, a sharp breath taken through nose as Arielle turned her gaze momentarily down into her lap. How honest could she be without doing more damage?

A deep lungful of air was taken, Arielle releasing the fur beside her lap to run hands roughly over her face as if in order to scrub cream skin clean. Mud only smeared across her cheek. She couldn’t look at him. Arielle fell backwards against the fur, mismatched eyes cast upwards at the canvas ceiling of his tent as the pink to her cheeks flamed. “Don’t think for a second that I didn’t want you, Hadrian, but what we have is.....it’s complicated, and you’ve made that fairly apparent on several occasions.” Pink tongue ran the seam of lips, dried from her nerves and the chill. “I’m walking a very fine line. I give in to what I want, give myself to you, and I risk your men trying to usurp you—a stupid and foolish move but one that they’re likely desperate enough to take. Or I try and think with my head to keep us all safe out here, but make you, quite apparently, displeased with me.”

Arms stretched folding beneath head as legs stretched out, perpendicular to the bedroll as Arielle settled into the furs, becoming more comfortable but certainly not casual within his company. She was still on edge, a woman very rarely moved to worry was anxious. Arielle didn’t even wish to begin wondering what he thought of her, seemingly avoiding his gaze.

“I want you, Hadrian, but nothing is ever as simple as just taking what one desires.”

 

[Fates.Gamble]

I’m starting to think war would have been easier, Hadrian thought while they stood there, the tension so thick you could cut it. At least with war he never had to question his motives, even if he was still second guessing whether he made the right choices. He was ever the altruist when it came to ending the conflict, but when it came down to Arielle herself, Hadrian wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. Such thoughts were hidden behind perfectly attentive eyes, and a well timed drink from his cup, busying any expressions he might pull.

“You have to hide in plain sight,” he could remember his father telling him, one of many lessons when it came to grooming the young prince for the throne, “Never betray your honest thoughts to your enemies.”

Never mind the fact that it was a discussion over hosting foreign diplomats in the example, everyone was an enemy in Leander’s mind. Even those you might consider a friend would ‘Show their true faces in time.’ That was the ‘curse’ of their royalty; personal attachment was only feigned. It was a tool people used to get what they wanted out off you, or so his father believed. Hadrian never quite shared his philosophy, but he saw the wisdom in remaining anonymous. Not everyone felt that way about his royal status, but there were still no few who did.

Hadrian lowered his cup, a humorless smile taking his lips at her retort. “Ah,” he said, the pieces coming together; he’d already suspected she might have overheard them, after all. It made the most sense, considering how quickly things went from heated to cold between them. “The man has a knack for timing, doesn’t he?” He sourly mused, scoffing before downing another sip of wine. Usually it was Auden who took it upon himself to be the wet blanket. Leave it to Caius to keep his Adviser’s traditions alive…

Silence descended as the realization of what went wrong settled between them. She was making herself comfortable, and Hadrian saw no reason not to do the same; that was the reason he was here, after all. So while Arielle plopped herself down on the bedroll, idly playing with the strands of fur, Hadrian busied himself with sluggishly toeing out of his boots. He was happy to be free of the burden until bare feet met practically frozen floor, one thing about the north he didn’t think he’d be getting used to any time soon. He weathered it though, keeping his distance since, like Arielle, he did not trust himself to join her; least of all down on those inviting furs, her presence making it all the warmer. Another sip of wine to distract himself from that thought…

Better take it easy, Hadrian warned himself, cutting it short. He’d heard enough tales of men drowning themselves in their cups out here in the north, only to freeze in the night. Out here, spirits were like a siren call, tempting you with their false warmth. In the end though, wine made little difference when it was such a sobering matter of discussion. Hadrian wordlessly appraised Arielle while when she spoke, reserving comments until she said her piece. Eventually he had to break eye contact, unable to keep up his mask with her so accurately pinning his reasons for brooding.

Arielle seemed much the same after the confession, neither of them looking at the other while it all hung in the air for a moment. His advice of taking it easy was batted aside, making way for another drink just to fill the uncomfortable silence. Once he had his fill, his eyes found the ground while his tongue peaked out, running along the seam of his lips to mop up the remnants. The more she spoke the more frustrated, and bored of this he found himself becoming.

“I think we’ve already established that,” Hadrian stated, jumping in with his opinion scarcely before the words had left her mouth. “You want me, I want you, but it’s messy… We had this conversation the last time you stumbled upon me with my Shield, if you remember.” Hadrian sighed, wishing he could forget that whole mess of a night personally. “I don’t see how we’re getting anywhere by having it again.” He fell back into a grumpy silence, broken only by the sound of him shuffling over to the bottle of wine, which was promptly uncorked to top off his goblet.

Despite the vicious tone, Hadrian turned to approach Arielle, and offered up the freshly filled cup of wine. “I’m fresh out off olive branches,” he told her, staring down into those vivid, mismatched eyes, “A proverbial grape vine will have to do.”

Once she’d taken it, the gelid sting of the floor spurred him into joining her on the floors. Fortunately, royalty meant luxury, giving him plenty of space to settle down next to her without being too close for comfort. The added implications of all that space remained firmly in mind, however, as lowered himself down, sitting cross-legged to her left. He held the open bottle of wine in his lap, both hands clasped around the bottle while he stared into the flames, the light of them dancing in his eyes. For a long moment he simply enjoyed the fire’s warmth, the sound of its crackle just as soothing to him.

“I didn’t know you overheard us,” He said after a long moment. “I suspected you might have… But then, I guess, either way it doesn’t excuse my reaction. I thought I knew better than to lose myself to my emotions by now… You can’t run a kingdom like that.” Hadrian gave her a calculating look, a sad smile sweeping his lips as he considered the woman she was, compared to the girl he knew so long ago.

“It’s kind off funny, isn’t it?” he started to say, only to pause, arching his tense back to stretch the muscles before groaning out the rest, “Here we are, all grown up and still acting like a couple of children.”

He shook his head before turning his attention back to the bottle in his lap. A quick swig of it, and he could already feel the effects creeping in. A cloudy mind made for lighter thoughts, he decided, though it also made for troublesome ones. He couldn’t shake the thought of just how close they were right now. Even with the maintained distance it would be nothing to close that gap. It was far from the best idea, but the cold, the alcohol, and his body were all telling him it would be a pretty damn good one, though he couldn’t be certain which was saying it the loudest. To further distract himself, Hadrian switched to a more pressing topic.

“No matter our… personal conflicts,” he started to say, chewing over his words, “The loyalties of my men are not something you need concern yourself with. That has ever been my responsibility, and continues to be long after we’re married. We made this decision knowing it would draw criticism, but our Kingdom cries out for an end to this bloodshed, Arielle. It cries for peace, and this is how we give it to them. Any man who takes issue with an Eirlea united, is no true son of Eirlea. And should any prove foolish enough to interfere with that peace, I will deal with them swiftly, and without mercy.” The ominous vow hung on the air as Hadrian turned back to his bottle and took a hearty swig.

 

[MoldaviteGreen]

Copper hair pooled beneath cream face, the caramel freckles atop the apples of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose set golden in the amber glow of the flickering log fire; providing the pair a warmth that resembled the body heat the both of them longed for. It wasn’t enough, Arielle growing fidgety atop the bedroll as she ran slender, cream fingers through the brown tones of deep fur she sprawled across, seeking anything to distract her racing mind. There was nothing that she could think of that was sweeter than finding reprieve in another body after several days trek on horseback; a slow, meticulous exploration of torso and tangled limbs. There was something about being home, about having passed the border and being amongst crisp snow that had her nerves set alight, skin tingling with electricity. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she anticipated all that would await her, await them, now that they were in the clutches of the North.

Should she explain it all now, or should she wait for the arrival? There was so much that Hadrian didn’t know about the North, and it wasn’t only about the nomadic lives of her people. True, they were a bold lot, immodest even, but they were also a fairly private people. Why would they share something that went against all logic when the Southerners already held a malicious prejudice against them? There were things that she would need to discuss with him, in time, and would likely be forced to do so soon, but they were travel weary and already had a topic of conversation that they needed to pass.

Eyes closed as a soft sigh escaped parted, rose lips; exasperated. “Indeed he does.” How ironic it was that a few select words were able to throw cold water on the heat that had built within her amidst the lake, how they were able to deter her from following what she ached after. Caius certainly had a way about him, and while she knew that his advice had come from a good place and rightfully made sense, he’d quickly made himself a thorn in her side. But would it have been as easy as following Hadrian to his room within the tavern, and spending a night tangled with him between the sheets? Somehow, Arielle believed that it would only have made things far more difficult, the pair of them still struggling to overcome what this new change between them would mean.

Hadrian’s cold reminder of one of their precious conversations had lips pressing firmly into a line, the muscle at the corner of her jaw twitching as teeth clenched. She’d been hasty in attacking him and, in doing so, had wedged something further between them—something that she regretted immensely. If she had just played nice, if she hadn’t allowed herself to think with her heart, would they be in such a difficult position as they found themselves in now? It was no single person’s fault, she knew, but Arielle couldn’t help but ruminate over how she’d contributed significantly to the distance between them.

As always, he made a fair point, and the only response he received was a huff of air from between lips as she arched her back and stretched arms above her head. Joints were stiff from the ride and her poor sleep from the night precious, and she appeared feline in that moment as she contorted within the furs and lengthened limbs. Heavy bust was breast high towards ceiling, the top of her head almost coming flat against the bed roll as spine peeled away from furs. Her stretch only lasted a split second, Arielle collapsing back down with a satisfied sigh, running cream fingers through the loose wisps of copper hair. She couldn’t argue with him, wouldn’t, and so Arielle remained laying in silence until she heard the uncorking of the bottle and Hadrian slowly pacing over.

Rising onto elbows, the rebel propped herself up and crossed long legs at their ankles, watching keenly with brightly lit mismatched eyes; a predator watching another approach. As the goblet was held down to her in offering, a smile absent from Hadrian’s lips, Arielle pressed her own together before she reached up to clasp stem. “It’ll have to do.” A simple comment, one that sounded dry as it was spoken coolly, but one that was quietly playful as eyes sparkled. Rim was brought to the tiers of her lips, settling between them as she absentmindedly ran metal over the seam, continuing to keenly watch as Hadrian settled into the bedroll beside her, with some distance between, his legs folded into a lap.

For the best, Arielle assured herself as she grit her teeth in disapproval, wishing them man closer. Had he sat directly beside her, the outer edge of his thigh brushing against her own would have been enough to stir devilish desire that was only barely held back now. Goblet was tilted, the redhead eagerly swallowing several mouthfuls of liquor and feeling it rush downwards to fill and warm belly. It was held to the side, still clasped by the stem between fingers, as she turned face towards shoulder and watched him closely.

“You’re human, Hadrian,” she spoke softly, mismatched eyes watching the rugged features of his face that were set in the warm glow of the fire. “You won’t always be able to think with your head. I’d be worried if you were able to. Besides, it had nothing to do with Eirlea, it was about us.” Us. Was that even something she could say now? “You’re a tough critic of yourself, Hadrian, and it’s a sure way to break yourself down.” The small smile that adorned his lips was matched with her own, equally reminiscent and saddened as she considered how very different their lives could have perhaps been.

For as fiery as she often was, it would seem that the wildfire had been momentarily tanned; the young woman remaining quiet in listening as Hadrian spoke of how it wasn’t her responsibility to concern herself with the loyalties of his men. Oh, but it was. Ever since they’d made the journey through the mountain pass, there had been an ominous pressure in the back of her mind; something that was foreboding. Nothing good awaited them, and she assumed that it likely stemmed from someone who lingered amongst his men, waiting for the right opportunity to make his loyalties—or lack thereof—known. Now, it was just an assumption, a guess, and an intuition that Hadrian would likely think Northern conspiracy.

Mismatched eyes carefully watched as Hadrian rolled out taut muscles, shifting this way and that. It was enough to coax her upright, the goblet set aside momentarily, Arielle only taking a split second to move behind him. While she had been fairly swift, she’d allowed enough time for Hadrian to move away should he not wish for her close proximity. Hands pressed into fur, thighs parted wide as legs slid down either side of his own, Arielle shuffling in close to press herself near his back. Fingers were tentative at first, running gentle patterns over the broad slopes of his shoulders, before palms gathered muscles and began to massage. Hips remained away from his own, despite how the redhead wished to press herself smoothly against the broad expanse of his back and steal the little semblance of space he had left. She wouldn’t cross that line, not yet, not when he was so visibly tense and making a conscious effort to avoid her.

“I would have thought that having me as a wife would mean you didn’t have to handle such a thing like that by yourself,” she murmured softly, the warmth of her breath tickling the back of his neck as thumbs swept down over shoulder blades, Arielle so expertly kneading muscle. The squeeze of his shoulders as Arielle shuffled a little closer, was a silent proof of her words; I have your back, Hadrian.

 

[Fates.Gamble]

It was nothing to do with Eirlea, it was about us.

Hadrian pondered Arielle’s comment, eyes cast anywhere else while his fingers mindlessly fidgeted with the wine bottle held between them. It was sound enough in theory, but fell short when he considered that their impending union was only born out of love for Eirlea, not each other. Anything and everything that happened between them would affect the kingdom directly. Wasn’t that the whole reason for this? Wasn’t that why they sat here like this, an invisible barrier between them when all they truly wanted was to tear into one another?

“Perhaps,” he answered dryly, unable to argue when it came to his self criticism. “But it also keeps me grounded. A man in my position... Well, I don’t have to explain to you how many people my choices affect. I can’t afford to make mistakes.”

Yet, that seemed to be all he could do with Arielle. Everything felt like a misstep so far. He had to wonder how different things might be if he’d just given into her instead of toyed with her that morning. When he thought back to the image of Arielle laying sprawled out in his bed, lusty eyes looking up at him with a genuine sense of thrill, the true mistake felt like walking away from the opportunity. The whole thing was meant to keep her off balance... He never expected it would throw him off as well; never expected that he would end up wanting her as bad as he did.

As if summoned by the regret, Arielle shifted, setting the goblet aside with intentions of closing this space he’d built. Hadrian’s eyes jumped to her, watching her every move until she escaped his field of vision, boldly slipping into place behind him. For a moment he thought to deny her the closeness. They were already struggling with the concept, and the last thing he needed were further temptations. Instead he found himself rooted to the spot, his shoulders only growing more tense in the moment she took to settle in place. A deep breath was sucked in when her fingers found his knotted shoulders, only to escape as a relaxed sigh once they’d begun their work.

I can’t tell if she wants to soothe me, or set me on edge... Hadrian thought, eyes drifting closed. It wasn’t quite as sultry as the last time they’d found themselves in this position, but Hadrian could already feel his excitement growing. The small distance she kept was something of a tease, as she was still close enough that Hadrian could feel the heat of her body filling the gap. Regardless of the intentions, he decided Arielle might be a little too good at pacifying him. The foulness of his mood was all but drifting down the river...

“Loyalty is a little more complicated than the rest,” Hadrian explained, wishing the conversation had never been brought up now that she saw fit to loosen him up after the long day of riding. There was no good way to explain his way of thinking, not without touching on the bitter subjects that could easily see them at each other’s throats before long. How could she possibly expect to inspire loyalty when she was the very embodiment of her father’s lack of it? The men would never trust her. In the end, however, he did not put it quite so blunt.

“Whatever we are now doesn’t change our years spent as enemies in their eyes. The men who fought for my father have ever been faithful to the Aldrich line. That faith will remain. All they need is time... Given enough of it, they will come to see that this marriage is for the best.”

While Arielle continued to work the kinks out of his muscles, Hadrian was growing more relaxed. A pleasant little moan sprang from his lips, goosebumps traveling down his arms despite the warmth of the fire. Arielle scooted a little closer, and Hadrian found himself setting his bottle aside, legs unfolding to stretch out. She was building a trap that he fell right into, his body instinctively leaning back to close the damnable space between them at last. He gave a sigh of contentedness once they were pressed together, and simply lay there enjoying her touch for a long moment. After a time, however, Hadrian found himself returning the favor.

Through no conscious act of his own, Hadrian’s hands had fallen down to Arielle’s legs on either side of him. His touch was something playful at first, palms smoothly gliding over her limbs in the same manner she’d been playing with the strands of fur. But it wasn’t long before it took on purpose, strong hands coming massaging the muscle of her calves, the most accessible part of her he could reach.

“To tell you the truth, I’m a little more concerned about the North,” he admitted, idle hands still continuing their work, though fingers had forsaken her calves to slide playfully up her shins and past her knees, before heading back down. “They’ve already proven they have no love for the monarchy, and no problems trying to overthrow it. Do you truly believe your people will accept this union?”

Or will they cast you out, leaving you no choice but to fight with or against them? He added to himself, not daring to voice the question. Arielle spoke of her people as though they would never do such a thing, but Hadrian could only think of his father and his lessons... Anyone could turn on you. Leander made sure Hadrian was well aware of the fact. After all, the man who started this war was once the king’s best friend.

 

[MoldaviteGreen]

Hadrian’s lean into her had her smiling small; a grin of satisfaction as she became aware that he sought the warmth from her just as she did him. The fire, as beautiful a distraction as it was, was not enough when she hungered after something more. The pads of thumbs pressed firmly into the gathered muscles over his shoulder blades, smoothing over the flesh as it dragged the cotton of shirt along in the motion. She wanted this off, to watch as olive skin dimpled beneath fingertips as she kneaded broad shoulders, but she wouldn’t dare say as much. Perhaps the thin layer of cotton would allow her enough of a barrier to keep some sense about her.

Those exploring fingertips clasped the back of his neck, the ropes of muscles there just as tight and unmoving as his shoulders. They, too, were gripped tightly and squeezed, before blunt nails dragged upwards and across scalp as fingertips threaded through the dark strands of inky hair. How easy it would be to take a fistful and force his face to angle over his shoulder, to steal a kiss against his will.

Supple lips pressed together into a thin line, her mouth growing dry as she began to imagine far more tantalising images within her mind. She needed to keep her wits about her if they were going to get to the bottom of this, if they were going to finally talk about something without playing each other. A deep breath was taken through nose, the pleasant coppery scent of perspiration tickling her senses, as she attempted to ground herself even as she remained pressed to him, barely enough space for her hands to work. That hand in his hair tugged a little on the inky strands, before it released and trailed southwards once more, joining its twin in firmly kneading tense shoulders.

“There is a lot that you are yet to understand about the North, Hadrian, and I don’t mean that to belittle you,” Arielle said softly, warm breath tickling the back of his neck as Hadrian leaned into her. There’s a lot that you are yet to understand about me, but I worry what you will think, what you will do once you realise that not everything is as it seems. Pink tongue swept the seam of plump lips, cream hands slipping around broad ribcage as they ventured between chest and upper arms, sliding around torso to smooth over pectorals. Fingers splayed over his shirt, slow in the motion, as Arielle rugged him hard against her. What little space there was between them evaporated now, gone.

Sharp chin pressed to the slope of his shoulder, the cool tip of her nose brushing the side of his throat as she draped herself over him, hips tilted and pressed into the back of his own in order to do so. Thighs pressed in close the outer edges of his own, holding the man tight in the hug she had captured him in as she laid the round of her cheek over his shoulder, looking up at his profile now.

“There’s more to the North than it’s people and bad weather that you need to fear.” An eerie promise that sounded mostly empty, but she hoped he would know better. While she wasn’t confident enough to confide in him, to reveal a truth that had been hidden from the South for generations, she wasn’t cruel enough to lead Hadrian blindly into a territory that would eat him alive.

“We’ll be joined soon by my cousin, he’ll have sensed my arrival. He has a particular talent for knowing when I set foot in the North. There will be more following him, a handful of Northerners that would likely follow him to us. If you want to fear anything at all, Hadrian, it is my cousin for reasons I’ll let you discover on your own.” Plump lips curled into a wicked smile as she imagined her dear cousin discovering the King in her company. While he wouldn’t be eager for bloodshed, he’d be eager for the shedding of cloth, that would be sure. Hadrian had once made a comment at how the Northerners were said to be promiscuous, and for some that was true.

Hadrian lazily stroked the length of the legs pressed to the outer edges of his own, earning a soft sigh that licked the side of his throat as Arielle melted into his back. Heavy breasts pillowed against sculpted shoulder-blades, the cheek that was pressed into his shoulder blushing a gentle shade of rose as he squeezed at the muscles of her calves. Such a tender touch, as if they were familiar with one another’s bodies already, that it sent an electric thrill along the length of her spine.

“They will accept it,” Arielle promised, her voice barely a whisper. “I had to fight for their acceptance, for their loyalty, for them to see that I was one of their own. It took time, but it’s not something that they would ever go back on.” Not after they realised that I was the missing link. A small laugh escaped her, a musical note as she pressed lips to the collar of his shirt as if in attempt to stifle it. “Interesting, isn’t it, how we fear such very different things.”

Outside Hadrian’s tent, the wind howled ferociously, though not a thing shifted as they remained carefully shielded by the rock peak and cavern just as Arielle had predicted. Yet, still, a shiver ran the length of Arielle’s spine as she trembled against him, her hands gripping him a little firmer as she tensed.

It was close.

Closer than she had anticipated.

Legs withdrew from his touch, Arielle peeling herself away from him as if she suddenly wasn’t interested in this teasing game of warm hands and somber conversation. She rose to a kneel, and took her time in shifting about him. Shuffling amongst the fur, Arielle knelt before him before she plopped backwards, the redhead now seated directly before him. Legs parted just as they had done so before, though, this time knees pressed into his waist as they laid over his hips, Arielle drawing herself in close between his thighs. She didn’t grow still until they shared breath, one hand finding the meat of his thigh as she pressed herself in close, while the other gripped taut muscle of his shoulder. They were seated somewhat innocently, yes, but how much effort would truly be needed to take this up a notch?

While Arielle had previously been bold in her touches, as she settled before him and slipped the hand atop his thigh to settle against his hip, her next was slow, tender but far from calculated. Fingers brushed over the edge of cheekbone before slipping into ink hair at his temple as the meat of her palm captured the side of his face. “I suppose it would be too much of me to ask that you promise to not think less of me, ever.” Those mismatched eyes glowed brightly, her gaze lazily drawn downwards to his lips to linger there. “No matter what.”

 

[Fates.Gamble]

Hadrian was starting to forget himself beneath Arielle’s roaming hands. Damn if she didn’t know how to ease a man’s tension… Or work them back up. Hadrian’s eyes cracked open when she tugged at his hair, a wicked little smirk taking his expression. For a woman who’d only just confessed things were too complicated to go anywhere, Arielle sure seemed interested in heading that route. But Hadrian wasn’t complaining; how could he when those hands were busy massaging away every complaint he could think of? Though, he did manage to speak up once she stated the obvious.

“I’m no fool,” he told her, “I know cannot claim to understand a world I’ve scarcely step foot in, but your people…” Whatever else he planned to say was forgotten when milky hands came snaking around to his front, his seductive predator pulling him in tight, as though for the kill. Hadrian surrendered to it, head tilting to meet Arielle’s gaze whilst she planted hers on his shoulder. “Is that right?” he went on, wondering at the cryptic statement. What kind of threat was she talking about? He never expected the answer; if indeed it was the true one.

“Your cousin?” Hadrian blurted. The devious smile that graced her plump lips had his brows furrowing. Based on her reaction, the danger didn’t seem sincere, but that made him no more sure what to make of it. “Sounds like another game to me…” Hadrian grumbled, his mind now consumed with the potential menace he would face. None of his predictions would land anywhere near to what Arielle was hinting at, however.

Hadrian’s fingers, which had paused amid Arielle’s playful teasing, resumed their journey now. Soft fingertips worked across the toned shape of her legs, both hands working in symmetry. His touch grew firmer the further up he ventured, eventually making his way to the warm meat of her thighs. Giving the inconvenient position, he could only explore them so far before caressing his way back down, strong thumbs working out all of the tension along the way. Her soft sighs of approval were music to Hadrian’s ear, the whisper of her voice enough to make his skin tingle.

Even with how softly Arielle spoke, she sounded so certain of the proclamation. Hadrian’s gaze found the fire again, the reflection of the flames dancing within his eyes while he listened to her reasoning. He put on a smile at her stifled laugh, nodding along at their difference in fears. But in truth, the smile was false, for Arielle’s words had struck Hadrian harder than he would have expected. While Arielle considered the divergence in concerns, he came to realize the differences in their leadership. Hadrian did not have to fight to prove anything; a circumstance of birth, his position was gifted to him on a silver platter. One he’d even come to refuse, once upon a time…

Hadrian continued to avoid Arielle’s gaze, a touch of shame filling him after the silent comparison. It was a wonder she feared for the loyalties of his men when he hadn’t earned it the same way. Further, it didn’t seem to matter how well Hadrian ran this kingdom when he was continuously failing to win this war. Though, with Arielle at the helm of the challenge, it was no wonder why he’d struggle to overcome her. Whatever their differences, he could not deny that she was one hell of a woman.

The king was too consumed by his thoughts to notice the howl of the wind, or anything else for that matter. He hadn’t even realized that Arielle began to move against him until it was enough that his hands fell away. Seafoam eyes found hers, silently wondering at her intentions when she moved to sit before him. His heart quickened, gaze never breaking, even as legs straddled hips, and soft hands found his thigh and shoulder. Hadrian’s lips parted, leasing a soft if shaky breath over the closeness. He wanted nothing more than to grab her by the hips and pull her the rest of the way into his lap. Then he was seize those soft, pink lips, and it would be game over from there. There would be no chance of keeping their hands off of one another…

Hadrian’s couldn’t keep his hands from gravitating to her waist, at least, but he resisted the urge to pull her any nearer. Arielle had no intentions of making that easy on him, though, as on hand moved to his hip, and her other captured his face. Hadrian leaned into the touch, the warmth of her hand a welcome sensation out in this frozen wilderness. Fingers splayed, his hands slipped around her waist, nearly reaching the small of her back before her words, once again, brought him to a pause.

“No matter what?” he asked, his expression growing somewhat more inquisitive than the heady look from before. “Probably. ‘No Matter What’ is some pretty big territory…” And suspicious territory at that, leaving Hadrian to wonder at what she meant by the comment. Though, contrary to his disheartening words, one of his lifted to brush away some of the copper strands that framed her face, softly pushing them passed her ear with a look of affection. “But you’ve spent the last… how many years trying to kick me off my throne? And still I thought enough of you to ask for your hand in marriage. You'd think my capacity for acceptance, or at least forgiveness, is pretty big, wouldn’t you?”

Hadrian caught the way her eyes roamed over his lips, undoubtedly recalling the feel of them pressed to hers the night before. He couldn’t fault her, having lost track of how many times he’d copied the act now. It was one of the few distractions sweet enough to draw a man away from those dual eyes of hers, and he’d spent much energy in his attempt to keep himself away from them. But Hadrian was growing tired of that… The slow building heat between them just made the effort all the more exhausting anyway. That was good enough reason to give up, right

That’s what he told himself, anyway, when the hand that lingered near Arielle’s ear slipped around to the back of her neck and tugged. At the same time he pressed forward, breath hitched just before the space was close, and their lips met in a soft, yet thrillingly sudden clash. His mouth moved more or less innocently against hers at first, but there was no holding back the flood, lips parting with his tongue tempting her’s into a wild dance moments later. A moan as soft as a purr vibrated past his lips as the kiss deepened. Yet, regrettably, the sweet inferno quickly began to lose steam, Hadrian gradually pulling away until tongue and lips alike had forsaken her.

He lingered there a moment, lips hovering less than an inch away from claiming another round, his breathing hot and heavy. Once again, he proved a little too good at avoiding his temptations. Instead of another kiss, his forehead came to press softly against her own, Hadrian’s eyes closed tight as he struggled with a most frustrating choice. After a moment, however, he pulled away, his seafoam eyes seeking out her bi-colored ones.

“Maybe you should go,” Hadrian told her, both hands having somehow fallen to her hips, where they gripped tight enough to suggest he wanted the exact opposite. “Like you said, it’s complicated…”

 

[MoldaviteGreen]

“Yes,” Arielle murmured, barely a tone above a whisper as she so comfortably sat between his legs, her own either side of his waist. He made a good point, that his willingness to forgive was large enough that he’d asked for her hand and not demanded her head, after all that she had done against the throne and him. In that instance, she couldn’t fault him; at how level-headedly he had handled her, and his ability to be forward thinking enough to realise that this course of action had some potential for peace. But how quickly he had spawned her in an argument, labelling her people with a stereotype that was mostly false, giving into the wicked bias that the South would always hold over the North. Would he understand something that didn’t make sense? Would he so easily accept something that went against every text, every scientific article that he knew of?

Warm fingertips brushed against her cheek, collecting a stray, wild curl of copper that had fallen into her face to tuck it slowly behind the shell of ear pierced many times over. The touch itself, how tender the look in his eye seemed in that moment, had Arielle growing still in fear that a single movement would break whatever it was that was beginning to fragilely develop. She hadn’t lied when she said that she wanted him, and she didn’t doubt that he did either, but Arielle selfishly wished for more than just a romp within a bedroll after a hard two days ride. A breath was taken between those parted, rose lips, shaky as crisp air was pulled down into lungs and held. Was it selfish? To want more than just a satisfying fuck?

Arielle had little time to decide, the warm hand that had gently smoothed aside the copper curl finding its way beneath a mess of fiery hair to capture the back of her neck, pulling face forward against his own. She didn’t fight him, this was something that she so desperately wanted, but eyes took a moment before they fluttered closed, dark lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks to settle atop her own as mismatched eyes slipped closed. Hadrian engulfed her senses in that moment, stealing the breath right out of lungs in a soft, relieved sigh. The touch of their lips ignited something within her, the hand upon his hip gathering a fistful of his shirt and tugging tightly, while the other found the back of his head and threaded fingers through dark locks. Those supple lips parted, welcoming the slick muscle that wished to invade, her own tongue sweeping out to dance against his. His moan was low, rumbling in his throat, and it was matched with a whimper of pleasure as Arielle pulled herself to him, hand tugging harder at his hair as she dragged hips forward along furs to press into his own.

And then it was over.

Arielle was left to wonder whether he had kissed her to satisfy some craving and, now that it was done, had gotten his fill and needed nothing more from her. Skin had been set alight, burning. An electric thrill ran the length of gently curved spine as liquid heat pooled deep within belly, her womb warming with arousal. Toes had curled against the furs, so tightly that they had begun to cramp. Everything screamed for more, begged for it, but Hadrian only leant forehead against her own, their breath shared.

Her heart was hammering against her chest, threatening to leap out across the floor as it pounded, and she struggled to catch her breath even from a small kiss such as that. It would seem that, after so long of wanting something, a body could be so easily played to a tune. Those mismatched eyes searched his face, curious to know what it was that he was thinking, his features having hardened a little once more, the tenderness leaving. When he finally pulled away to speak, those sea foam eyes alight, Arielle’s coppery brows pulled together in a deep scowl. She didn’t speak for several moments, letting the weight of his words settle in, as she fought the urge to just yank on that inky hair and pull him down into her mouth. Instead, fingertips grazed over scalp as they left his hair, the hand falling to his shoulder where it smoothed down over chest, finally coming to rest against the space above his heart.

“Maybe I should go,” she murmured, voice silvery with clear arousal. “Maybe I should return to my tent and pretend that this never happened and that there is nothing between us. Maybe I should see if one of your men is daring enough to take Morteus’ place and fight with me so my energy is at least expelled. Maybe I should take a walk out into the blizzard to try and clear my head and try to make sense of all of this. Maybe I should never have taken up arms against you.” The tip of pink tongue swept across the seam of her lips, as if wishing to taste him as she tilted chin upwards to him, her posture self-assured. “I should do and should have done a great deal of many things, Hadrian, but have I ever been a girl that plays by the rules and does what is expected of her?”

Fingers splayed over his chest, the throb of his heart rising to kiss the meat of her palm with each pulsatile motion; a distraction, of sorts, from the fiery heat that had settled into her belly and begged for attention. “Tell me what you want, Hadrian. Not what you think is best, not what you think is expected of you....of us. Tell me what you want.” The hand that had fisted in his shirt fell away, sweeping backwards to capture one of his that gripped tightly at her hip. It was pulled away, Arielle threading slender fingers through his own, twisting their grip so that the back of his palm and knuckles pressed against the rounded slope of her breast; heart hammering against their joined hands. “Tell me what you want, Hadrian, and I won’t question it. If you want me to leave, I’ll walk straight out of this tent and not look back. But I want you to know that I want this, whatever it is that we have; if we have anything at all. I want....”

The tent flap parted, a young man slipping inside with a tray set with a few more bottles of wine, some bread and cheese. He didn’t take the time to pause by the entry, not seeming to either acknowledge or care for the couple that day so closely upon the bedroll. His head was bowed, eyes upon the ground, as he moved swiftly over to collect a stool before scurrying over to the pair. He bowed deeply, his eyes averted, before he set the tray atop the stool beside them. “Your Highness,” he muttered, averting his gaze, before he looked to Arielle, nodding; “The bottle that you called for.” The young man left rather hurriedly, as if having spied then in such a manner gave him reason to flee; to spread the news of what he saw amongst the men.

Arielle released his hand, sighing in exasperation. “Why is it that there is always something that we must overcome in order to ever get close?” The cork was popped, the young woman offering the bottle to the man before her as she smiled small, sad even. She’d wait for him to take it within hand, shifting backwards some to give the man the space he seemed to crave.

It would not be, however, until the neck of bottle was brought to lips that Arielle suddenly stiffened, something striking her senses that made her panic. Bottle was swatted from his mouth with a backhanded strike, glass smacking against knuckles at it was swiped sideways and out of his grasp. “Don’t drink that!” Wine bottle crashed against wooden crate, shattering loudly as shards danced across floor, dark liquid spilling and splashing against wood and floor. It wouldn’t take long for the reason why to become apparent, the wood that had been contaminated with the alleged wine beginning to smoke as fibres were eaten away.

Acid.

Wide-eyed, Arielle looked to Hadrian, to his mouth to assess for damage, a hand rising as if she were about to take the side of his face in palm but thought better of it. The fiery redhead, the rebel that revelled in violence and brutality, was dissolved into panic as she hurriedly said; “Hadrian, I can explain.....”

 

[Fates.Gamble]

In the wake of their kiss came lingering, uncomfortable silence. Hadrian supposed that was to be expected; neither of them wanted to deny their urges, even if they knew it was for the best. Honestly, he was surprised he had the strength to break it off in the first place. Even now the experience lingered, as palpable as the silence. The taste of her was fresh on his tongue, and he hungered for more. So why not feast?

Because I’ve changed, he realized, thinking back to his younger days. Not so long ago, he wouldn’t have dreamed of passing on the chance to lay with a beautiful woman like Arielle; just the opposite, in fact, as more than once he’d schemed a doubtful maiden into sharing his bed, if only for a night. How peculiar that he was the one playing hard to get for a change.

First the whore, now this, Hadrian lamented, wondering at himself. He might have worried he was losing his edge if not for the tension in his loins; tension which had grown considerably after Arielle’s reciprocation. Just the weight of her in his lap was enough to get a rise out of him, never mind the kiss.

Not once did he avoid her scowl, choosing to bear the full weight of the disappointment rightly dulling her eyes. No doubt it was cruel of him, to kiss her that way only to suggest she take her leave directly after. His intentions were different, of course, but it was not unlike the last time he’d built her up, only to send her crashing back down. Part of him hoped she would not accept the repeat offense, his heart thrumming at the chance. He saw the idea of it swimming in her eyes, and knew she was considering it even before she spoke. He could feel her indecision in the way she touched him, hands slipping out of the black thread of his hair to rest over his heart instead.

Hadrian dared not interrupt while Arielle laid out all the things she could do and maybe should have done. He never expected to hear her doubts over the conflict, but there was no time for would-be regrets. Arielle soon denounced all of those expectations, hinting at what Hadrian already knew about her: She was a woman who did as she pleased, and damned be anyone who got in her way. His heart drummed a beat faster against his palm, his mouth feeling remarkably dry all of a sudden.

“Not that I’ve ever known,” Hadrian admitted. He knew the question was probably rhetorical at this point, but at least talking kept him from doing anything too bold.

Tell me what you want what you want, Hadrian…

Oh, if only he only he had an honest answer for that. Of course he wanted her, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever wanted anything more than to tear Arielle out of these clothes and explore every inch of her luscious body. But to take everything else out of the equation and admit to that desire? Hadrian wanted far too many things to do that. Ignoring what he thought was best to pick which of those things he wanted the most just wasn’t possible with the weight of a kingdom ever on his shoulders. He carried too much for it; set one thing down, and the rest would come tumbling after it.

Hadrian couldn’t bring himself to admit to the pressure of it all, rendering him silent and uncertain, even as Arielle seized his hand and placed it to her breast. He could feel her heart racing in a tempo to match the wild beat of his own, only adding to the temptation. If Hadrian’s mouth was dry before it was downright arid now. Despite everything he wanted, he could not claim that wanting Arielle to leave was one of them. Neither did she want to go… But wasn’t she the one who said things weren’t as simple as taking what you wanted? Perhaps to his fortune, Hadrian wasn’t left to respond to the confession, nor Arielle even allowed to finish it.

Darkened eyes jumped to the servant who had so carelessly barged in on them in the midst of it all.The servant kept his gaze averted but Hadrian could feel the man’s tension, his presence sucking all of the air out of the room. It wasn’t so unsurprising, given the scene he’d stumbled across. If it isn’t my Shield it’s someone else, Hadrian thought bitterly. And just where is that fool anyway? Had Caius been standing watch at the entry as was expected he would have been announced and they never would have been caught as such.

Not a word was spoken in response to the intruder, the king’s frustrated expression enough to run the man off if nothing else. Not before he revealed who to thank for this interruption, however. Hadrian’s eyes jumped to Arielle, a heavy sigh of irritation rushing past his nostrils once they were alone. This was just what he needed, more rumors about the king and his rebel queen spreading about. He had no words for that rebel queen’s question, his eyes simply dropping to the bottle she took the liberty of uncorking.

“I’d already had one opened,” he indicated, bringing attention to the bottle of wine they hadn’t even finished yet. His eyes glanced the label, however, and some of the annoyance seemed to leave his expression. “Still… that is a fine vintage.”

Hadrian accepted the wine, holding it of to the side while Arielle saw fit to wiggle free of his lap. Despite the fire, the lack of her body heat was sorely missed, especially after the draft their uninvited guest had allowed in. The wine would at least restore some of that lost warmth at least, or so he thought anyway. Hadrian recoiled as the bottle was smacked from his hand, eyes furiously landing on Arielle.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” He demanded, though the answer was apparent not an instant later. The way Arielle made his heart race was nothing compared to the way it did now, seafoam eyes drinking in the scene off the wine burning away everything it touched, acrid smoke left in its wake.

I almost drank that, he realized, the shock of it blinding him to everything else. That was, until he saw the motion of Arielle’s hand drawing near. She rightly began to retreat it, but Hadrian never gave her a chance as his own lashed up to seize her by the wrist. The burning flames that warmed their tent were nothing compared to the inferno in his eyes as he sneered at her, the promise of an explanation only feeding his rage.

“Oh, can you now?” he spat, chest heaving as adrenaline began to flood his veins. “Isn’t that interesting…”

An instant later Hadrian was on his feet, and Arielle with him as he wrenched her up and off the floor. No sooner than she had her footing, however, did Hadrian throw her hand aside, releasing his grip from it as though it were every bit as deadly as the poisoned wine. It was, after all, the hand that delivered it. Until Hadrian wizened up, remembering the second party. He was at the tent flap in two steps, his frame blocking the exit from Arielle as he shouted out into the night.

“Caius!” he roared, voicing booming throughout the cavern, even against the howling wind. “Get over here now!” It took a few moments, Hadrian glaring over his shoulder at the copper haired snake he’d almost fallen victim to, but his Shield appeared before long. Curious eyes assessed the situation, but Hadrian gave him no explanation, only an order.

“The man who just brought me this wine,” Hadrian he started to say, voice shaking with fury, and body vibrating with the rush of his near death experience, “Find him. Bring him to me. Now.” The shield swept away from the entry flap without a word, Hadrian rounding to face down Arielle.

“Go on, then,” he said, venom laving his tongue. “Explain yourself.” He was eager to examine that bottle for himself, though for the moment he didn’t dare take his eyes off of her.

 

[MoldaviteGreen]

“Hadrian....”

Slender wrist was seized by rough fingers, all tenderness having evaporated with the noxious fumes of the sizzling acid that continued to eat away at wooden crate. It earned a growl, a sound low in elegant throat, as Arielle tried to yank back her stolen hand. The look upon his face, those smouldering eyes, promised a different kind of trouble than the one she had been seeking this evening; a trouble that would gift her broken pride, if not something far worse. As she fought with the grip upon her wrist, blood flow stolen from fingers that opened and closed in desperate attempt to be free of him, Arielle held her breath deep in her lungs.

She should have known that it was coming.

She should have known that they would use her.

She should have known better than to think they were safe if only for just one more night.

Her need for Hadrian, her to desire to finally lay beneath him and feel flesh warm from his heat, had clouded her judgment. How foolish it was of her to think that they wouldn’t try something like this to split them apart, to frame the one person among them that he would so very easily believe to be guilty. It didn’t take much convincing him, using her sharp senses and gut feelings against her; posing them to be signs of guilt. How easily it had been to play her into their hand.

“Hadrian, you need to give me a chance to—”

It would seem that there would be no reasoning with a man who came seconds from death, the means delivered to his lips by the cream hand of the woman who had played both traitor to the crown but also siren luring him into her bed. His clutch on her wrist was enough to make bones groan angrily from the force as he stood upright, knocking her from his lap before she was wrenched upwards by imprisoned wrist. A hiss was released from between grit teeth, followed by the snarl of a curse word spoken in mother tongue. Words could not be used to reason with a man who saw only what he believed to be fact, and she doubted that there would be any convincing Hadrian to even try to listen.

Arielle was tossed aside like she meant nothing and that, perhaps, hurt the most.

Cream skin burned an angry red from his grasp, the limb brought upwards to her chest and cradled by her other hand as it stung from being snatched so roughly. Fingers flexed, blood flow returning, as Arielle looked to the tent flap that Hadrian suddenly moved to loom within. If he was anything in this moment, he was a fireball of rage, those eyes cool as ice but just as furious as the small fire that warmed her skin. There was something hard to his voice, chiseled rock as he cried into the night for his Shield to demand that the wine bearer be brought before him.

These people were smart, even if the bearer was still alive and hadn’t been finished by another in order to get rid of loose ties, he wouldn’t speak. Or, if he did still have his tongue, he’d speak words that would only incriminate her further. He couldn’t be trusted, she should have known that when her gut twisted upon spying him, instead of just brushing it off as nerves. Arielle should have known better. And yet, she was still convinced that Hadrian’s rage would be solely focused upon her, not a single word to be spoken would be able to convince him otherwise.

Wrist was released, hand falling by her side as cream fingers slipped into hair and removed a steel pin that could cause enough damage if it came to it. Knees bent, her stance equally defensive as it was poised to attack should she need to make the first move. The muscle in her jaw pulsed tightly, her teeth grit. Whatever it was he would throw her way, she’d be ready. Hadrian, once he was as furious as this and especially given their toxic history, would likely take no chances.

“Why bother?” She snarled, rolling out shoulders as she stalked sideways, holding the sharp, needle-like dagger she’d pulled from her hair firmly. “You’re already convinced. At this point it’ll take more effort to convince you of my innocence than it would to finish the job.” Mismatched eyes glimmered darkly, an aura gathering about her reminiscent of a shadow and gloom. “You think I’d try to poison you and have a change of heart last minute? If I wanted to kill you, Hadrian, why the theatrics? Why bother luring you out into the North to just slip something into your wine? Do you honestly think that’s my style? You think someone like me would go for something as weak as poison and not just go straight for the jugular?”

Good points. Truths. But none that would likely sink into his head while she stood before him. She needed to get out. Arielle needed to get away. He wouldn’t come to think with logic so long as she was around. But with Hadrian standing by the tent flap and Caius soon to be on his way back, Arielle had very few escape paths. Their attention, however, would be stolen once the wine bearer would be tossed into Hadrian’s tent by his feet, the young man clawing into the dirt and at the edges of the rugs as he tried to get to his feet.

The young man whimpered, dressed in simple cotton clothes and lacking the stature of the foot soldiers called to arms to see Hadrian safely into the North, as he tried to stand but fell again onto his knees. “P-Please. She told me to bring that wine. I knew nothing of her plans!” Lies. Sweet little lies. But he cried them to such a pretty tune that they sounded like truth. Even Arielle almost believed him. “Please, my Lord, I only did what was asked of me. I didn’t know!”

With attention stolen towards the young man by his feet, Hadrian was momentarily distracted and it proved enough of a chance for Arielle to run. She turned on her heels, the blade of her knife plunging into the canvas of the tent. Ghastly winter air rushed through the gash, howling as it ripped into the warmth and extinguished the fire. A flurry of snow kicked up, blown in over one of the rugs as Arielle shoved herself out into the blizzard.

Yet, she hesitated.

Mismatched eyes found his own, but there was something swirling brightly within them that didn’t match the threat that had come in the form of acidic poison. Instead, something saddened lingered there as wisps of copper hair were tossed about her face, Arielle a vision of wintery wilderness as she stood at the threshold of blizzard and the tent of the man that would surely see her punished. Rose petal lips moved, forming silent words as she whispered to him; “Don’t follow.”

Then she was gone.

It was the shrill sound of fear in the young man’s voice that would have pulled Hadrian back to reality, to the wine bearer crumpled and kneeling at his feet. “She’s a witch, Your Highness. I should have known not to trust her when I saw her with the bottle earlier. She looked suspicious. I thought she was tampering with it, but I didn’t have the guts to confront her. I didn’t know, my Lord. I didn’t know....”

 

[Fates.Gamble]

Hadrian felt like his world was spinning as he stood there, furious gaze honed on Arielle and the pointed hairpin she brandished in hand. Truth be told, he was too blinded by the surrealistic events to know what to think or who to blame. Thanks to history, however, and the remarkable way in which she ‘saved’ him from that poison, it was easiest to lay it all at her feet. The fact that she’d drawn a weapon did not help her cause. Green eyes flashed to where he’d left his sword. It was remained sheathed on the other side of the tent, Arielle and her sharp object between them. His attention was back on her just as quick, refusing to give her the chance to catch him unawares. One false step, however, and it wouldn’t take much to cross that distance and draw his steel.

Until then he listened to her attempt at an explanation. She began to move, and Hadrian walked every step with her, moving closer to his weapon while they circled each other like a pair of predators. His judgment may have been clouded but he’d not lost his logical mind. Hadrian wasn’t under the impression Arielle wanted him dead; they’d been playing a game of manipulations for years now. Since his proposal it as though the rules had changed, but the game had never truly ended. On the contrary, most days it only felt like it was picking up speed.

“How did you know it was poisoned!?” He demanded, disregarding every other statement she made. “What, do you just some sixth sense I don’t know about? More of your ‘Waking Dreams’ mystic Northern bullshit?” Hadrian’s breath hitched as he paused, stormy eyes never leaving her own. “Or maybe it just some fucked up way to earn that trust you keep begging for.” That seemed far more believable. She had, after all, requested that wine. Even uncorked it and handed it right over to him, despite the bottle they were already working on. It all added up too perfectly for simple coincidence, and it was brilliant, besides. Had she committed regicide there would have been little chance of escaping the encampment. Why kill a king when you could just seduce him to your will?

Arielle’s potential accomplice was thrown into the scene before things had a chance to go much further. It was the perfect distraction for her as Hadrian could not ignore the man who’d nearly ended his royal household. The king’s predatory glare turned on the whimpering excuse of a man. He listened to his words, considering them carefully. But all Hadrian could think about was the moments leading up to that would-be fatal sip, and he recalled all too well the tension when the wine bearer arrived. It was easy to blame the precarious situation upon which Hadrian and Arielle found themselves at the time, but now he was not so sure.

Hadrian opened his mouth to speak, but Arielle quickly silenced him by making her move. Hadrian spun on his heels at the sound of tearing cloth, finding the red haired beauty standing before her escape route. It was hard to say which sting was worse: The rush of bitter cold, or the betrayal of the girl he’d intended to marry. Yet, even as she made to flee, Hadrian remained rooted to the spot, failing to give his Shield the order to detain her. How could he when he met her eyes and noted the sadness swimming within them? Even so, his anger and hurt burned hot as ever, eyes narrowing as she mouthed the words before disappearing into the flurry.

“Hadrian…” Caius spoke, forgoing royal formalities in an attempt to draw the king back to his senses. If he just stood there like a fool there would be no catching up with her. Once she was out in those tundras she would be lost to them, safely within the bosom of her homeland and her people. If that happened the war was sure to continue, most likely with a new, untold magnitude of violence. It was not the voice of his Shield that got the king’s attention, however, but the grating sound of his would-be murderer’s words; words, which Hadrian had already decided were every bit as poisonous as his wine.

“And are you her thrall?” Hadrian demanded over the accusation. “Bound in her cursed service?” His voice was deep, emotionless, and just barely audible over the howling wind. But Hadrian paid no mind to that, nor the snow as he squatted, lowering himself to his kneeling prisoner’s level. “You had enough guts to serve me a bottle of wine you thought might be tampered with. You’d think my father would have given the Aldrich name a bloody enough reputation that a man would quiver in his boots at the thought.” Hadrian grit his teeth, muscles in his jaw twitching while his gaze burned into the traitor.

“What do you think we should do with this one, Caius?” he asked to the man standing watch.

“Beat the truth out of him,” Caius answered. “I’ve been told I have a persuasive fist.”

Of course, the little lamb began to bleat its innocence all over again, none too fond of that suggestion. Hadrian didn’t seem all that into idea either, his expression cool and calculating while he considered it in absolute silence. After a long moment, he rose back to full height, a dark presence looming over his attempted murderer.

“For now, why don’t you find some place uncomfortable for our friend to rest his head. I want eyes on him at every moment.”

“What about your bride?” His Shield wondered. Guilty or not, Arielle was the bigger threat in his mind. Trouble in paradise between its leaders meant trouble for all of Eirlea. Even if she was innocent, this rift needed to be mended.

“Find someone to clean up this mess and fix the damage she’s done,” Hadrian told him, apparently more interested in mending the wound to his canvas than he was their relationship. Though, after a brief hesitation, he added a new order to the list. “Gather the men,” he said, passing a look to his Shield, “Find out if any of them saw which way she went. She couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air…” Though, at this point it sounded about as sane as everything else that just transpired.

His orders given, Caius snatched up the prisoner, lurching him back to his feet. His cries and pleas were ignored, Hadrian turning his back on the scene as the man was dragged out into the frozen night. Suddenly alone, Hadrian finally had the chance to slow down and contemplate this madness. It all happened so fast that he might have doubted it happened at all, if not for the tangible evidence; namely the cold rushing in from Arielle’s improvised exit. His eyes lingered on the torn cloth, his head reeling as he thought back to the way she’d stood there, only to disappear as though she’d become one with the storm itself. Even more powerful was the memory of her kiss; of the intimacy building between them before that wine bearer had brought it all crashing down.

A victim of his tumultuous thoughts, Hadrian found himself unable to sit still. It began as pacing, a practice that helped to streamline his thoughts as well as shake off the cold a bit. But before long he found himself gearing back up, bundling into the warmth of his cloak before stuffing feet into boots and hands into gloves. He’d just lashed his swordbelt back on by the time the craftsman arrived to mend the gash Arielle left to remember her by. Hadrian gave the man a stiff nod before leaving him to his work, and stepping out into the wintry camp. His feet carried him mindlessly onward. It took a few moments for Hadrian to realize he was making his way to the horses, his body having decided to mount up and track Arielle down even before his mind had. Though, as he came to the realization, Hadrian began to slow, then stop all together. He couldn’t get the silent words out of his mind…

‘Don’t follow’

Maybe the smartest thing to do was to take that advice. What would he gain? Odds were he probably wouldn’t even find her. Arielle knew the north better than he ever would. He’d cagtch his death out there long before he caught his fleeing bride. Still, he remained there in the bluster of wind, grappling with the indecision while casting his gaze out into the white out beyond the mouth of the cavern. Once again, his feet were carrying him away before he realized it, taking him back into the depths of the camp, which was now a flurry of activity, every man alert as the rumors of what happened began to spread. Eventually, Hadrian found his way to Caius, who confirmed that none of the men had seen or heard anything of Arielle’s escape. She was like a ghost, slipping out beneath the noses of them all. This only worked to infuriate Hadrian further, who stood before the crowd of failed soldiers like a looming storm cloud.

“Bring him,” Hadrian ordered.

Caius didn’t need to ask to understand who Hadrian meant. A short while later the wine bearer was on his knees before the king again, this time with a much bigger audience. Every eye was brought center stage, uncomfortable murmurs rippling through the crowd until their king began to speak.

“The man you see before you is guilty of attempted regicide,” Hadrian boomed out for all the hear, his voice just barely audible over the wind. “Like a snake, he came slithering into my tent, and thought to serve me poisoned wine. He is a traitor to king and country!” His eyes scanning the crowd with a touch of suspicion, before dropping back to the traitorous fiend before him. “He claims it was on the order of the northerner, which I’m sure comes as no surprise to most of you.” The king turned his attention back on his spectators, drinking in the lot of them before he continued. “We’ll find out if that’s true soon enough. This is the only snake I’ve rooted out so far, but if there happens to be any others lurking out there, rest assured they will be found. Any and all responsible parties will be flushed out. And there’s only one thing to do with a snake once you’ve caught it.”

Hadrian rounded the man on his knees, coming to stand behind him. If the reality wasn’t clear yet, it certainly was by the time the the time he drew his sword. The sound of the King’s steel pulling free of its scabbard was most likely a horrifying melody to the assassin, who reacted by singing his same old tune.

“No! You can’t!” Terrified eyes quickly turned to pleading as they jumped from the gleaming steel to Hadrian’s darkened, emotionless face. “It wasn’t me! It was the witch! Please my, Lord!”

Against his better nature, Hadrian found himself hesitating when he heard his victim sobbing out apologies and explanations. He seemed sincere, and honest sounding man if he’d ever heard one. But then, he supposed anyone pleading for their life would. After all, a man’s will to live was very much real, even if his words were false.

The king’s hands tightened around the hilt of his weapon as he stood there listening. The howling wind pulled at his cloak, but he barely seemed to notice over the man’s pleas, and even that seemed a whisper compared to the drumming of his heart. All the while, he kept thinking of Caius’ words from the night before:

‘You don’t know what it is to kill a man.’

Now that the time had come to learn, he was finding it more difficult than ever expected. But Hadrian had made a promise to himself that he would never shirk his responsibility again; A promise he’d kept every day since reclaiming his forsaken crown.

“I beg of you, My Lord!” The prisoner continued, growing desperate at the sign of Hadrian’s reluctance. “You must believe me!”

“I’m not your lord,” Hadrian told him simply, a bitter edge to his voice. “I am your King.”

The assassin opened his mouth to speak, but what he might have said was lost as Hadrian took firm hold of his sword and fulfilled his duty. One good swing was all it took, the exquisite steel cutting through the man’s neck as easily as butter. That slack jawed, fearful expression remained, Hadrian meeting his dead eyes for but a moment before his head rolled away and fell into the snow with a heavy thud. The body dropped not a moment after, the pure white snow below it staining with a flood of dark crimson. Hadrian released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, the metallic stench of blood filling his nostrils. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t leave him the slightest bit queasy, though it passed quickly enough as he stepped away from the mess and approached Caius.

“How’s that for ‘swinging the sword?’” He taunted, recounting their conversation again before rudely handing said sword off to his Shield. Caius spoke not a word as he accepted the bloody weapon, his eyes boring into Hadrian who turned on his heel and made left the scene. The crowd parted for him at once, every man keeping his head low and eyes averted while their king wordlessly passed by.
~
Sometime later, Hadrian found himself back in his lodgings, taking respite in a simple wooden chair. The hole in his tent had been patched and the shattered bottle swept away. There was no hiding the evidence of what happened, however, as the rug and floor could not be repaired. Hadrian’s eyes were fixated on the burned patches, his mind replaying the incident over and over again. It was far too easy to imagine the consequences had he drank from that bottle instead of Arielle swatting it away again.

Arielle… the name alone was enough to make his blood boil, and not quite so pleasantly as before. What the hell was she thinking? No matter how many times he asked himself the question, no plausible answer would come. Hadrian was a victim to the thought, his mind unable to think of anything else. Until a distraction came by way of his Shield entering through the flap without so much as an announcement. After having nearly been killed by one man, Hadrian was more than a little jumpy at the intrusion.

“Were you planning to cut my head off too?” Caius asked, eyeing the way Hadrian jumped out of his seat. “It’d be difficult without this.” He proffered the sword which had been left in his possession, any and all traces of the murderous deed it had performed now wiped clean. Hadrian relaxed once he realized who it was, before accepting his princely weapon and returning it to its empty sheath.

“So..” Caius began, standing there awkwardly while the king sank back into his sitting spot, looking gloomier than the weather outside, “You’re playing judge, jury, and executioner now? I was under the impression you restored your Minister of Justice to position, not that you’d taken on his duties.” Hadrian remained deathly silent, his attention stuck on the fire which his servants had rebuilt. Caius decided to carry on anyway. “What if he was telling the truth?”

“Do you believe he was?” Hadrian finally piped up, seafoam eyes flashing dangerously as they jumped to his Shield.

Caius withstood that powerful gaze, meeting Hadrian’s eye for a long, uncomfortable moment. “No,” he admitted, then stalked forward. He grabbed a small box crate and set it on the other side of the fire, taking a seat upon it directly in front of Hadrian. “Or at least, I don’t believe this was the Northerner’s doing. It’s not her style.” Hadrian scoffed at the proclamation; one that echoed the words of Arielle herself. Yet Caius was undeterred.

“See this?” The Shield brought Hadrian’s attention to the cut on his ear. “She gave me this last night after she heard me telling you not to bed her. She was pissed and decided to lash out. The girl acts on her emotions; she’s impulsive, even more so than your father if I had to bet money on it. Take it from an unfortunate witness to this budding relationship of yours: Anything that girl does to you is going to be a crime of passion.”

“Innocent people don’t run,” the king growled, refusing to listen.

“But scared ones do. Regardless, you silenced the only man who knew for sure. You should have questioned him first at the very least. Look… Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she is just another one of your treacherous snakes. But if I’m right, I’m betting she’ll be back to find you before long. And you’ll still have at least one more snake on the loose, because I’m telling you now, there’s no way that bloke was acting alone.”

“If she does come back,” Hadrian began to say, focusing on Arielle instead of the speculation, “It’ll be with an army of her northern brethren at her back, no doubt. Not that it’s needed. You’ve seen the weather.” Caius had to fall silent at that. If the heavy snow continued, which it gave every indication that it would, they’d be snowed in by sunrise. “How long would you say our rations will last us?” Hadrian asked, his attention idly returning to the fires. The question was rhetorical; they both knew they’d only brought enough to see them to Arielle’s tribe. “No need for poisoned wine. We’ll all be dead within the week if this blizzard doesn’t let up over the next day or two.”

The two men sat in silence, considering the implications for a moment. Caius had no answers for that one. It was times like this that Hadrian would have loved to turn to the drink, but after nearly being killed by his thirst he never wanted wine less in his life than he did right now. Instead, all there was to savor was the black pit steadily swallowing his heart. His eyes remained on the licking flames of the fire, the red and orange flare reminding him of the copper haired siren that nearly lured him to his death.

“Let’s hope for her sake that you’re wrong,” Hadrian spoke up after a while. “If Arielle has even a lick of sense she’ll never place herself within sword’s reach of me again.” Yet the prospect that she might was all he could think about in the time that followed. All any of them could do was wait and wonder which would die out first: The storm, or the last of their supplies?

 

[MoldaviteGreen]

And five days they had to wait.

Rations were low, if not non-existent, the dreary men low in mood as they were fed meal after meal of beans and oats; two things that should never go together. Hadrian was not spared from this, his Kingly station unable to protect him from the woes of such an awful pairing. The beans, the cook had said, are a better substitute for protein than the alternative. No one, thus far, had volunteered to become the camp’s next steak.

The blizzard was relentless, hammering the mountain they shielded beneath, their pitched tents barely able to escape from howling gusts. The men were frozen, there wasn’t a single second of any day when they were not, their skin becoming dry and leathery from the harsh chill, their lips chapped and almost blue. It was a wonder that no man had been taken into Death’s clutches from the sheer cold, the blizzard seeming to hunger over taking a life as it battered them day in and day out. But it was, perhaps, the discontent amongst the men that gave them just enough life to survive until daybreak.

While they could not fault their King, knowing that they were unable to move from the foot of this small mountain, imagining the warm weather back at home or even the hearth of the pub back in Adoris had them growing bitter. They had been drawn northwards by their monarch, at the behest of his new bride, under the guise of reconciliation. And yet, she was nowhere to be seen after her treacherous little stunt against the King’s life—clearly too ashamed to show her face, knowing that she would likely meet a grizzly end should she ever step foot within this camp again.

But how could these men, growing scrawny and weak even after just five days, believe that they would be able to fight off the Rebel from the North?

They sat in clusters when they were on guard, rotating through on six hour intervals, two always stalking the outer perimeter of the camp and two of Hadrian’s tent. They weren’t taking any more chances, that was for sure, but they certainly weren’t going to freeze to death in the meantime. The men huddled together, like penguins against a storm, and grumbled to one another as they imagined the first hot meal they’d have if they ever made it home. Grim talk was the only talk amongst the men now; realistic but not optimistic.

Arielle, however, hadn’t truly left.

Her escape into the blizzard provided the perfect cover, the redhead woman now entirely within her element. The North, some often argued, was Arielle just as she was it. One did not exist without the other, not truly. While she had left them, carving through the snow as she ventured into the heart of the blizzard, she’d found more than just shelter.

He had been closer than she had thought, and the reunion was one edged with relief.

And with him came warmth, and company, and a sense of belonging. To have something, or someone, to have so much faith in you when the rest of the world did not was enough to warm that cold heart of hers. There was nothing she could do to ruin his love, for they were one and the same; two halves of one whole. Something that Arielle most certainly did not look forward to trying to explain.

“What, do you have some sixth sense I don’t know about? More of your ‘Waking Dreams’ mystic Northern bullshit?”

Now, as she stood atop the peak that sheltered the men below, counting how many remained huddled together to ensure none were lost, she visibly winced as she remembered Hadrian’s harsh words. It had been so hard for him to swallow, that she possessed something that couldn’t be explained by logic or science, that she was crafted from a world embedded with old magic—something the Southerners had long ago forgotten. His words had stung, cut deeply, and she wondered now whether it was worth returning at all.

Cream fingers slipped into chocolate fur, the strands thick as they ran between digits. Arielle stood against broad chest, her back against warm fur that shielded her from the blizzard that roared at their backs. She was sheltered here, safe, and she knew she likely wouldn’t be the same if she ventured down below. Like a ghost, she loomed above the camp, her figure hazy from the snow and ice kicked up by the howling wind, appearing almost like a mirage amongst a storm.

With a sudden release of breath, the kind that misted before her face, Arielle sighed; “Best not let them rot.”

~ ~ ~​

The corpse of the stag was drawn over narrow shoulders, having been disemboweled far from the edges of this camp to avoid the call to the wolves that roamed the tundra, sticky blood congealing across the backside of her neck. Legs were bound together in pairs by makeshift, thick twine, gripped by her small, bloodied hands as she stalked into the heart of the camp. She’d been watching them for long enough to know that the men had grown weary, that some were on the verge of being called home into Death’s sweet embrace. Arielle knew, precisely, at what time was best to sneak right into the heart.

Men bristled, swords were drawn, the scene a clumsy attempt to ward off the red-haired siren that had almost lured their King into an untimely demise. They shot to their feet, not as quickly as previous with their bellies now empty, shouting for more men in the commotion. The beast across her shoulders would have weighed heavily atop such a smaller frame, and yet Arielle stood with a straight back and confident shoulders before the men that now held blades at her direction.

With a shrug and a sudden duck downwards, the stag was tossed at her feet with a meaty slump. Her offering was clear.

“Where is Hadrian?”

Arielle wouldn’t dare call him by title, undeserving of such a thing if he was so prepared to run her through without hearing her out. Hand drew upwards, knuckles running across her jaw in a scratch, smearing dark blood across the cream of her face. She looked haunting then, standing before them, having traded her cloak for thick furs and covered now with splashed of blood. Her mismatched eyes were as brilliant and as bold as ever.

From the left a man rushed forward, foolish enough to believe himself able to take the witch down while he had the chance. He hadn’t calculated for how slow he was, how his steps faltered, or for what lingered unseen at her back. As sword was swung backwards, ready to strike out against her in a far more clumsy reenactment of Hadrian’s own punishing, their world was split by a roar.

From the blizzard rose a beast on tree trunk hind-legs, standing well over ten feet tall. Maw was open wide, an ear-splitting roar escaping throat after it rumbled low in broad chest, emblazoned with a glowing blue whorl. Claws were as long as Arielle’s face, swiping at the air as the beast roared so intensely that the man taking aim at the rebel stumbled backwards.

It seemed that Arielle was protected by a grizzly, but not just any mundane grizzly at that.

“What the fuck?!” The men held the hilts of their swords firmer now, knuckles paling as they jabbed that blades into the air in her direction, threatening despite the beast that cast them all into grey shadow.

Arielle was deadpan as she called to them; “I offer you meat after you have been starving, and this is how you thank me?” The redhead stepped backwards, her features hidden in the gloom of the shadow that she so eagerly seemed to welcome. The bear did not frighten her, instead she welcomed its presence like an old friend. The look she gave the men was wild, something having shifted within the woman in her time away. Witch she perhaps was. “Where is Hadrian?”

 

[Fates.Gamble]

Five bitter days of snow and ice; of a cold wind that froze you right down to your bones. And yet, somehow, the poor bastards were toughing it out. Either they were all too stubborn to die or they already had and this was hell. It would make for a fitting damnation, as Caius had found himself missing his old life of slavery as early as day three. Living as a chained dog of war for sadistic masters did not offer much charm, it was true, but at least the food was a step above the slop they had to eat now. And nothing was worse than the cold. It was ceaseless; like the glacial breath of Death himself, seeping into your very soul. Stubborn or not, Caius was not sure how much more any of them could take of it.

As he roamed the camp, he eyed the weary clusters of men, noting their gaunt faces with concern. Hunger clawed at all of them, no more than the Shield himself. Even so, he decided to skip breakfast this morning. One more helping of beans and oats and he might just kill himself; or someone else. At this point, even a nice cut of human steak had a note of appeal. At least it was meat, for, as stubborn as the humans, none of the horses had seen fit to keel over just yet either. But with the men dipping into their food supply, another day or so and meat would likely be back on the menu; be it from horse, or the more gruesome option.

It was for this reason that Caius sought out Hadrian, making his way to the regent’s tent to persuade him to just slaughter one or two of the poor beasts. It was the kinder option for both parties in the end, and he’d already sent order to the stable hand to pick out the weakest pair of the lot. It would make for a slower, more difficult journey home, but there wouldn’t be a journey home if they didn’t act soon. He knew, however, that Hadrian would not favor this plan. The pair had spent the last day and a half arguing over a decision to send men out hunting on the tundra, Hadrian seemingly too obstinate to accept the fact that it would be a death sentence for anyone foolish enough to try.

“Even if they could manage to find game out in that wasteland the storm would kill them before they ever got it home, Hadrian,” Caius had told him, shooting the idea down again and again. “You can’t put your men at that kind of risk.

“I’ll do it myself,” The king replied, almost as though it was his intention from the start. “As their leader it is my responsibility anyway.”

“Like hell you will. Those men out there need your support, not your suicidal heroics.”

In the end, he’d managed to talk Hadrian down from the idea, though he was more than certain this new proposal would strike the argument right back up. So it was with reluctance that Caius returned to Hadrian’s tent. One nod of dismissal was all it took to send the pair of sentries off, who deferred to the King’s protector without another word. He didn’t need them overhearing things if their argument grew heated… as they tended to do. Though, once they were gone, and Caius threw back the tent flap, he found the lodgings empty. Smoldering coals remained where there was once a modest fire.

Strange, Caius thought, stepping back from the threshold and glancing the camp. He hadn’t noticed the king wandering around their little cavern, and it wasn’t like him to be such an early riser when there was no responsibility pulling him out of bed. Stranger yet, why had neither guardsman made mention of the absence? Not so much as a, ‘By the way, sir, the king’s out for his morning piss?” Caius’ face soured, his suspicions forming as he set off to ask the pair himself. He didn’t make it very far, however, before he came across the stable hand again, this time looking rather frantic.

“M’lord Shield!” the young man bellowed upon spying him, only to hurry over so quickly Caius thought he might barrel him down. He skidded to a stop just before it came to that, needing to pause for air. It was hard to breathe in the north even when death wasn’t knocking at your door.

“Save your energy,” Caius chastised him, “And I’m no lord. Trust me, if I was I’d be somewhere warm, not this frozen shit hole. Now what is it?”

“Well I was checking the horses like you said, right? But then I noticed one was missing, M’Lor--err… Shield… Sir. And not just any horse… The white stallion. The king’s horse, sir! It’s just.. gone!”

That was all Caius needed to hear to realize exactly where Hadrian had gone off to. A heavy sigh broke past his lips, angry frustration twisting his expression. “Gods damn it!” he seethed. “You stupid son of a bitch!” The stable hand paled, unaware that the Shield was referring to Hadrian himself.

“On my life, sir, I don’t know how it happened! I swear I tied him up good and proper. You don’t think the king'll have my head, do you? I don’t want to end up like that wine bearer, Sir! What am I going to do?”

Caius watched the poor fool melt into a spineless guppy, half considering to let him wallow in the fear for being so dense as to not put two and two together. But then, it was hard to imagine anyone, let alone the king, would willingly venture out into that hellscape. But Caius didn’t let the lad suffer for long.

“Relax,” he told him cooly, motioning for him to keep his voice down. “The stallion’s with its rider.” Notable confusion swept the man’s face, prompting Caius to explain further. “He’s with the king.” That only made his brows furrow in deeper confusion, though before he could pose any questions, a loud disturbance had caught their attention.

Caius’ hand instinctively dropped to the hilt of his sword, fingers curling around the wire grip once he heard the unmistakable sounds of drawn steel, and in no few numbers at that. A crowd had quickly formed around the ghost of winter that came strolling into their camp, the flame of her hair a brilliant splash of color against the stark white world that battered them. One glimpse of it was enough to understand who’d arrived , though the gathering bodies soon blocked him from noting anything else. The Shield pressed forward, wondering if Hadrian was with with her and hoping the king was not in fact that bulk of deadweight he glanced her dropping to the ground. He was just planning to push through the ground to find out when something happened that forced the crowd to break all together.

An ear splitting roar filled the cavern, and even Caius, seasoned warrior that he was, found himself grinding to a halt as the massive beast appeared at Arielle’s back. Even if the lump of a body at her feet was Hadrian it would not have torn his eyes from that monstrosity. He’d seen plenty of bears in his life, even killed a few all in the name of blood sport for nobles, but never had he faced a creature like this. His hand fell away from his weapon, knowing better than to even think of contending with it. All he could do was marvel at the spectacle, until Arielle’s words brought him back to reality.

He only took his eyes off the deadly pair long enough to confirm that was in fact a deer at her feet, before he shouted an order to the rest of the men. “Put your swords away!”

“Not on your life!” Shouted one man perhaps a little too loyal to Hadrian’s well fare. “She’s already tried to murder the king once. I’m not giving her a chance to try it again!”

“You ever seen a grizzly bear break a man’s spine? Or how about crush his skull? Trust me, you don’t want to. Now put the fucking things away. And that’s the words of the king! She’s been given a pardon.”

Those were not, in fact, the words of the king, making the statement as good as treason. But Caius couldn’t have given two shits about that right now. If he didn’t get the situation under control things would end badly for everyone involved. Hadrian could take his head for it, assuming he hadn’t already frozen to death out on his letting hunting expedition. Until the king returned, his Shield would be taking charge of things.

“What are you all standing around gaping for?” He spat, once they’d finally sheathed their weapons only to stand around staring like a pack of idiots. “Start a cook fire! Someone get that venison up out of the snow and get it cleaned, now!”

The prospect of fresh meat was so tantalizing that they seemed to forget all about the northern queen and her pet bear. Her bounty was snatched up in the blink of an eye, hastily dragged away from the swiping distance of those massive paws and the razor edges that capped them. While they dispersed, Caius motioned her over, leading her to the far side of the camp where there were no prying ears before he finally answered her question; though, she would likely find no satisfaction in hearing it.

“He’s gone,” he grumbled out, making no attempt to hide his irritation at the fact. “Out hunting for the meat you’ve already brought us, if I had to guess. The damn fool must have snuck out just before dawn.” Caius passed a glance to the mouth of the cave… grappling with indecision as he considered his next words.

“Listen… What I said about a pardon isn’t true. Nothing’s changed; Hadrian’s furious, even more so now that you’ve ran. But never mind any of that. You and I both know that Hadrian should not be out there. No one but your people have to skill and knowledge to survive this wilderness, and even they know better than to hunt in these storms. He’s going to get himself killed, and anyone I send out there to drag him back will do the same. Anyone except you, that is…” There was no point beating around the bush, so Caius just spat it out.

“If you have any affection left for Hadrian you need to ride out there and find him before something worse does. Once you do I don’t care if you have to put him on his ass to drag him back…” a wary glance was passed at the bear who lingered near by, Caius getting an eerie sense of intelligence from the thing. “I doubt he’ll argue much if you bring a bear with you. But then again… He’s one stubborn ass bastard.”

~

There was perhaps no more fitting description for Hadrian, as stubbornness was exactly what had spurred him into action. He hadn’t exactly planned on sneaking out beneath the cover of darkness, but some of Arielle’s impulsiveness had rubbed off on him. At least that’s what he would tell Caius when he returned, hopefully with a bounty of fresh game in hand. Perhaps he was mad to even try… People often speculated he would turn out that way.

“Like father like son,” they would say, as though the lunacy of his sire was a growing seed rooted within his soul; nothing but a ticking time bomb that would inevitably explode, just the way that Leander did. Well, quite frankly Hadrian was sick of being compared with his father. All Of his life he’d been measured against the kings before him, people only thinking of who he was expected to be instead of who he really was.

That selfish asshole would never have done something like this for his people, Hadrian told himself, battling with the comparison even now, body swaying with the motions of the saddle while Knox trudged through the snow; snow that was nearly high enough to reach the soles of his boots sitting in the stirrups.

But is that really why you’re doing this? His conscience questioned, for no matter how altruistic he masked intentions, his mind was honed in on one singular thought:

Arielle.

Hadrian knew that some part of him only committed to this insane plan because he hoped he would find her out here. He wanted to track her down, chase her to the ends of the world and bring closure to this… Whatever it was that they had; for better or worse.

Words she’ll never hear now, he ruminated, thinking upon the vows they might have shared, had things worked out as he intended. The only oath she was likely to receive now was one of steel; as cold and ruthless as the woman herself. It was, however, far more likely that Hadrian would never even see her again. He’d left camp several hours ago now, the icy wind whipping at his heavily covered form with nothing to show for it. Even with bulky furs, hood, and cloth mask to protect his face, Hadrian could not escape the frigidness of the air. It might have been enough to make him turn back and give up this crazy crusade, if only fate hadn’t taunted him into pressing on with a frustrating game of cat and mouse.

It was over two hours ago now since he first spotted the doe, at first thought to be little more than a brown mirage in a world that was nothing but white and gray. But it was real; and a bounding incarnation of the devil himself, Hadrian was beginning to think. Twice now he’d managed to sneak up close enough to risk a shot with his bow, yet heavy wind and snow had foiled both attempts, leaving his prey to bound off, leaping through the snow banks at a pace that Knox simply could not match. And worse yet, fresh snow was quick to cover the tracks, making it incredibly difficult to follow. Hadrian had always prided himself on his skills as a huntsman, but tracking game in his royal backyard was proving child’s play compared to hunting this arctic wilderness…

Persistence, or perhaps some unknown divinity with a cruel sense of humor kept him going, what subtle trail he could find eventually leading him towards the treeline of hundreds of spruce trees, their green needles scarcely able to be seen thanks to the heavy, wet snow that buried them. Knox tossed his head, snorting with agitation and exhaustion, but he pressed on, having just enough space to move between the densely packed trees as they entered the shadow of the boreal forest. Thanks to the cover they provided, the snow was not quite as deep here, making the tracks he followed much more visible. It wasn’t long before Hadrian find himself with a third chance at success…

As soon as he spotted the deer, its shaggy coat appearing as a blur in the distance as it ambled between two evergreen trees, Hadrian reined Knox to a halt, and quietly slipped out of the saddle. If it was cold before, it was nothing compared to the frigidness of that plunge. The snow was enough to swallow him up well past his knees, leaving his legs frozen with numbness. He ignored it, crouching low enough that it covered up to his waist even and silently stalked his way closer, using what trees and brush he could for concealment.

Once he was near enough, Hadrian drew his bow and primed an arrow. A wide spruce was the best Hadrian could do for cover while he ducked out, stealing glances of his prey and waiting until she wandered out for a clear shot. It took several long, freezing minutes before the opportunity finally presented itself. Tentative as ever, the doe stepped out into his line of sight, pausing just long enough to nibble and pull at a whorled tree branch. No sooner than it released the foliage, branch swinging back into place with a shower of powdery snow, Hadrian popped out and aimed.

The deer reacted as quickly as ever, turning tail and jumping away into the brush even as Hadrian loosed the arrow, everything happening so quick he couldn’t quite tell if the shot had landed, but the unmistakable scream of pain that followed told him it had to be the affirmative. Hadrian perked up at once, his heart filling with excitement as he whistled loudly, summoning Knox. With a whinny, the noble steed answered his call, breaking through the snow until he was close enough for Hadrian to pull himself back into the saddle. And then they were off, as fast as the heavy precipitation would allow.

Hadrian couldn’t be sure where he’d struck the deer, but his excitement ebbed away once he realized it probably wasn’t fatal. There were plenty of hoof prints to followed, but not much blood. Only small splotches were to be found. Luckily the scarlet pools were easy to spot against the snow, but never enough to suggest the deer would be bleeding out anytime soon. So it was back to cat and mouse then… But Hadrian had the advantage, and he had no intentions of letting his prey get away this time. They followed the trail relentlessly, plowing through the wet snow until coming breaking through into finding themselves upon the shores of a frozen pond nestled within a small glen. Hadrian brought Knox to a pause, startled by what he found.

There, on the center of the frozen water, lay the corpse of the deer he’d spent most of the morning hunting, a broken arrow shaft sticking out of the side of its hindquarter. The arrow was not to blame for the untimely demise, however. That honor belonged to the three ravenous timber wolves that were now tearing it apart, the cobalt ice beneath their kill gaining a macabre coat of red paint. Hadrian felt his mouth run dry as he gave a subtle command for Knox to back away. One step, however, was enough to draw the attention. There wasn’t even enough time to draw his bow before three furious, bloodstained maws were snarling out threats, ivory teeth snapping as they prepared to fan out and surround one very nervous stallion.

 

[MoldaviteGreen]

Arielle remained where she was, eyeing the men before her who shook behind their drawn swords. She wondered whether one would piss his pants if Urso made a swipe for him and flashed thick fangs in his direction. At least then, she supposed, he should be grateful to her for making him warm. Cast in the bear’s shadow, she appeared like red-headed Death, her skin the colour of fresh cream and her freckles losing their bronze tones. While the mismatched shades of her eyes had grown more vivid in colour, everything else, bar the copper of her hair, seemed to have been stolen away by the harsh blizzard she’d hidden within for days. She made no move, not even as eyes slid lazily sideways to watch Caius approach; a man that she was sure would likely wish her head atop a spike just as much as his Lord did also.

Urso grumbled low in his chest, remaining aloft on his rear legs as he towered above them all like a thick-furred mountain. Golden eyes shifted sideways, his attention also drawn by the approach of the war-hardened man, before lips quivered in a snarl. Maw opened wide once more, spittle flying, the grizzly roaring just as loud as Caius’ daring approach as he had at the men drawing their swords. Not a single soul would get near Arielle if the bear had anything to say about it. Stubby ears flickered, the gust of howling wind ripping about his back as snow was kick up against tree-trunk legs, his rear paws sunken deeply into the icy ground. Even when his roar ended, Urso having delivered an entire lungful in his protest against the Shield’s approach, the bear grumbled lowly as he looked back towards the men that were growing restless.

Both bear and redhead glanced towards the men as they rushed forward at Caius’ instruction, eagerly snatching up the offered corpse of the stag that had been dumped fairly carelessly in the snow. Neither made a move to deter them, Arielle amused that they now, according to Northern law, owed her a life debt, as she had spared them from the fate that surely awaited them all should she have made them await a further five days, perhaps even less. Even Caius appeared a little more weary-eyed than his usual sharp self.

“You’re welcome,” Arielle murmured smugly as she turned and approached the Shield, Urso taking a split second longer to feel a little more at ease as the men about them became distracted with the promise of warm meat. The bear dropped to all fours, the earth shaking underfoot and making one man topple sideways, before he padded just to the side of the red headed woman; huffing a breath of hot air. Cream fingers slipped into thick fur, a reassuring touch for both creature and woman, as she sought the warmth that came from their reunion.

As Caius revealed the whereabouts of Hadrian, at first Arielle was darkly amused. Was he, indeed, searching for sustenance for his men or for something else? She didn’t doubt that he would likely be foolish enough, after five days, to follow a presumed murderess into a storm if it meant that he could have his justice and feel that everything in the world was right once again. Yet, as realisation that Hadrian was somewhere out there in the blizzard began to settle in, Arielle grew visibly displeased. Urso, however, nudged her shoulder with his own, a quiet reminder that not all those who wandered were lost.

But Hadrian was and if he wasn’t, he surely would be soon.

“Fucking fool.”

To think that she had it in her to finally murder the man she’d been taunting all these years, and with poison.

To think that she would let him and his starve in a wasteland, away from their families, and for no better purpose other than to be callous.

To think that he’d be able to find whatever it was that he was truly searching for out there in the frozen tundra, amidst a blizzard that even her own kin weren’t entirely brave enough to face.

Arielle swore under her breath several times over in mother tongue, words that shouldn’t be uttered by polite young ladies, and certainly shouldn’t be repeated in English. It wouldn’t matter if Caius couldn’t understand her string of curse words, as they were said with such fiery passion that simply her tone was enough to indicate that they were not pleasant. The hand in thick fur bunched, fisting within Urso’s dark coat, and it earned her a disgruntled huff from black nose. The bear, lumbering at her side, grumbled lowly, a sound that seemed an attempt at communication, oddly enough for a somewhat mundane appearing creature. To Urso alone, Arielle whispered; “I know.”

At Caius’ plea, his suggestion that Arielle should search for Hadrian if she had any affection towards him at all, had the young woman drawing still. Urso growled, the sound itself a rumble of deep thunder, as upper lip twitched. Any affection left for a man that would no sooner want my head than to believe I don’t wish him dead?

“No promises on him returning whole.” Arielle grumbled, avoiding Caius’ gaze as she turned to Urso and fisted hands into thick fur, pulling herself atop his shoulders with little effort. Seated upon the grizzly now, the wind catching fiery wisps of loose hair, Arielle looked more like the Northern rebel than ever before as she nodded sternly; “I’ll do my best.”

~ ~ ~​

Neither Arielle or Urso held high hopes for finding the King alive, and it wasn’t entirely because of the raging storm that threatened to cleave meat from bone with sheer chill. The bear had bore witness to a pack of grey wolves, circling close along the forest line when he’d made the final leg of his journey from farther North to join Arielle. She lay smooth across his back now, fingers in fur and chin brushing over the mound of his shoulders as he trudged through the thick snow, carving a wide path between the piling white powder. If the chill didn’t kill him, those wolves certainly would if they ever crossed paths.

Finding any hint of Hadrian in the blizzard was proving difficult, Arielle close to becoming irritated at her belief of failure. Would any of this have happened if she hadn’t called for the wine, if she hadn’t made for his tent that night? An annoyed grumble came from below, Urso’s disinterest in her line of thought clear. He was right, of course, they had better things to be concerned about if she truly did wish to deliver Hadrian back to the camp in one piece.

Arielle rose to sit upright atop her bear, a violent gust catching flaming hair and whipping it about her face like fiery snakes against cream skin. Narrow shoulders were set back, muscles tense as her eyes narrowed out into the snow storm.

“O Iparraldea, erakutsi bidea. Ekaitz honen zati eta eraman nazazu beragana.”

It was an eerie sight, something that none other would have been granted save for the young woman and her bonded familiar. While the blizzard raged on, as angry and as violent as ever, it seemed to part before them to create a channel of eerie, unnatural peace. The gust of wind died about her, the pair sheltered from the storm by an unseen force, a clear path stretched out before her as if it were guiding her to the lost King. Urso didn’t need much more of an invitation than that, lumbering through the snow towards the edge of forest they were closer to than first thought; leaving behind human-deep wells from his footprints. A bleat of a doe caught their attention, as did a whistle and responsive whinny.

Hadrian was close.

With renewed vigour, Urso pushed on with a determined ferocity that came only with the search for a long lost old friend. The bear carved through the snow, finding the tracks of both steed and man before he peeled off in the direction of which the pair ventured. Hadrian was, it seemed, searching for meat for his men, and Arielle found herself a little disappointed in learning this fact.

He wasn’t out here searching for me.

But, as Hadrian had broken out into the icy glen, Urso was slower in his approach, keeping to the shadows as he circled a little further south along the bank, downwind from the grey wolves he’d spied earlier. See? He almost seemed to say, huffing noisily as a grumble rolled in his chest, the bear displeased that the fighting was not done for the day. Knox, as graceful a steed as he was, had garnered the pack’s attention as brittle twig snapped under hoof; the promise of meat from man and chevaline far sweeter than that of venison.

The doe was soon forgotten, the wolves peeling away as they snarled ferally, splitting to encircle the King and his pale steed. Hadrian, it would seem, was now labelled as dinner.

Arielle dropped into the snow from Urso’s shoulders, the powder crunching beneath her boots as she moved through the white blanket, breaking from the edge of the embankment. Steps were tentative but never hesitant as she edged out into the ice sheet, seemingly confident that the frozen lake would take her weight as she moved slowly down the bank towards where Hadrian stood.

“Don’t move.”

No hello. No question of why he was out here. Just a simple, stern instruction very similar to that she had called to him in departure. This time, however, she had the snarling wolves as insurance.

Spittle flew, drool dripping onto ice as the wolves salivated at the sight of Hadrian, only one glancing towards the slow-approaching redhead. She, they had decided, was not much of a threat to their ensuring they had a meal, too scrawny in appearance for them to shift their attention towards her in search of meat. One was deferred from his outward arch, his plotted course altering as Arielle encroached, slowly slipping herself between hungry wolves and vulnerable Hadrian. This was no longer his domesticated Southern lands, where creatures were afraid of the humans who trespassed. This was the North and nothing ever would own it.

In a show of bizarre sacrifice, Arielle lowered herself to her knees, kneeling just out of arm’s reach from Hadrian upon the ice. Urso lingered in the shadows still, knowing better than to disrupt her plans with his lumbering presence. Her movements were slow, meticulous even, as she settled atop the frozen lake kneeling before the wolves, as if it were the most normal thing ever.

“You are a fool for coming out here,” she sung to him coolly from over her shoulder, quiet enough not to disturb the approaching wolves but loud enough for Hadrian to hear. “This is not the South, Hadrian.”

A blade was taken from beneath fur cloak, the same obsidian blade that had been tossed at Caius’ ear in warning and punishment for running his mouth. It glimmered beneath the dim light of the frosty day, as Arielle shook out her sleeve. Cotton and fur fell away from wrist, revealing cream skin, unmarred.

“What were you looking for out here?” Her line of questioning continued, despite the wolves snarling and growing ever closer. “What did you hope to find? Did you not hear me when I told you not to follow, or did I not specify clearly that you were not to leave camp?”

It was then that sharp edge was drawn across the inside of her wrists, sinew carved as crimson blood welled to the surface and bloomed across cream. The wolves, then, drew sudden pause. Deep red gathered in a droplet, the bead falling as she tilted her wrist to the side and fisted her hand, falling upon the ice of the lake as she whispered; “Hartu oreka berreskuratzeko behar duzuna.” Snarling faded, the wolves straightening from their hunched postures, the once salivating creatures now far more docile as they looked to Arielle and turned on their heels; returning once more to feast upon the body of the felled doe.

Arielle, however, was not as easy to calm.

Rising to stand, she stole a torn piece of cloth from the inside of her cloak, wrapping it around slender wrist and pressing it firmly in place to staunch the bleeding that was no longer required. There was a flame to her eyes as she turned to face Hadrian, burning fiercely as she scowled across the embankment at him. Her fingers trembled with rage.

“How dare you come out here and meddle with things you don’t understand.” Her words were like poison, spat with a ferocity as she stalked closer to him; unafraid of the King’s own anger. “You know nothing of this place. You know nothing about the North, and yet you see it fit to go trolloping into a fucking blizzard to fetch yourself a doe.” The wolves didn’t once stir, despite the raised voice from the edge of the lake, their muzzles buried in warm, sticky flesh. “There is a balance that must be maintained. An order. You think this place to be chaos and wilderness, but there is order and it must be maintained. You nearly fucked it up, getting yourself eaten for dinner in the process.” Arm swept sideways, a wide gesture back at the wolves as Arielle stalked up the bank of snow to stand inches from him. “You’re lucky that I—”

Don’t.

A single, grumbled tone within her mind that wasn’t truly a word. An octave that was more bear than human but understood clearly, nonetheless. They were carved from the same whole, two halves that would always match, with Urso being wise where Arielle was passionate.

“Do not,” Arielle snarled, “play around with things that you don’t understand. Allow yourself to believe that you’re still in the South and Caius will be carrying your corpse back to Aquarin.”

Arielle stood before him, barely three inches from his face, as she trembled with rage, breathless. Cheeks were a blushed shade of pink in fury, hands balled into fists by her sides as one was stained with a crimson sliver that painted the inside of her palm; sacrificial wound still weeping. Shoulders shook with anger, breath steaming before their faces as they left warm lungs, Arielle visibly furious.