Taste For The Wicked | Vaip + Ether

Etheria

Etheria

Divine
Joined
Jul 4, 2019
Location
EST
Her nails dug into her palms as she stood before the towering double doors of her prison. Dry, emerald eyes scorned the carvings into walls of stone. The first journey outside of her homeland was not what she would have pictured. Most would be grateful to stand in such a luscious room, bedecked with velvet curtains and expensive furniture. As they would to be wearing such an opulent gown. She hated every onyx feather that trickled down the lengths of her arms, delicately cupping her curves and pooling down her legs in fluffy skirts. It was carefully tailored to please its beholders. The dress was a gratuitous wrapping that meant ‘present’. And the room, was a cage. She was like a pretty bird- doomed to entertain a master for the rest of her days.

She’d spent the last hour screaming and hollering into the night. Her protest could be heard by the entire palace, no doubt. Morgana had spent her every effort objecting the whims of her father’s handmaidens. They’d been sent to keep her inside the carriage on her journey to the South, and prepare her for the recipient. She was being ripped away from her own country, her own throne, her own people by a Beast. Somewhere beyond these doors, she was to be presented to The Beast King.

Ugh. The thought made her stomach churn with disgust.

“We do not have time for your antics, your highness.” Teref, the Rafiyan servant who had dressed her, was furious. The Fae woman was holding out her palm in expectance, earning an eye roll from the Princess.

Morgana surrendered the dagger she’d hidden under her sleeve, sneering at the maid. “You think this is going to save Rafiya? I don’t believe for a second that he won’t send his troops raging after this stupid front.” She scoffed. “Rafiya isn’t safe. No one is safe.”

Teref didn’t appear satisfied as she held out another open palm. “I was instructed to use force if necessary, Princess.”

Morgana clucked her tongue, pulling her last weapon from underneath her left garter. Teref was nothing if not thorough. No wonder her father favored her so much.

“A tiny Elvish girl isn’t going to protect Rafiya from war. Especially you. We can’t afford for you to harm our number one aggressor.” She replied with a forceful nudge. “They’ve been waiting to escort you to the throne room. Now go.”

Morgana’s dainty palms were likely to be bruised by the bite of her long nails. Her hands had been clenched into fists since she’d arrived at this forsaken kingdom.

“Fine.” She conceded, pushing the heavy doors. Outside, stood two guards. One man held wolf-like features, similar to the rumored Beast King. The other was more of a fox-variety. Both, however, were burly and savage in nature. They wouldn’t hesitate to result to violence.

“Morgana!” Teref called after the Princess, beet red with anger.

Morgana snickered to herself. Her last image of Teref comprised of the ballistic woman throwing her shoes at the closing doors. It was a small victory. She was going to be presented to their Beast King- barefoot. She hoped Teref would tell her father that. She could almost picture his absolute rage. It was her only pleasure in this horrid mess.

The golden jewelry woven into her hair would jingle with her every step as they winded down long, empty corridors. It was the only sound that brought her comfort, as the guards remained eerily silent. They almost looked as displeased as she was. The journey to Karindo had not been enough to exhaust the look of disdain upon her face. She refused to attend the throne room with a diplomatic lie plastered across her features. The King had another thing coming if he thought he’d won this war.

Her footsteps grew increasingly resistant. They were nearing the end of the main hall, where the walls expanded into a vast space. Laughter and rowdy conversation rumbled in crowds. At the center of the room, lied a dais that signified the throne. Nobles of Karindo were congesting the area, waiting to observe the King’s prize. The King himself rested as a pillar amongst the rest of them.

Her footsteps ceased as she reached the edge of the dais. She could have curtsied. She could have bowed. Yet she did neither of these things. She beheld him with eyes of fury, her teeth clenched as she offered a greeting.

“Hello, Beast King.”
 
Tap, tap, tap. His fingers tapped impatiently against the armrest of his throne. There was a constant murmur in the room as easily thirty nobles stood around, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Many had come seeking audience with the man sitting at the far center of the room, but the look on his face was one of boredom and indifference as he rested his head on the knuckles of his right hand and tapped the wooden armrest with his left hand. Amber eyes stared at the door at the opposite end of the room, not once ungluing their gaze from it, even as the nobles' words began to wander to more troublesome topics. Doubting his actual worth as a king, trying to discredit his strength by talking about the old king's decrepit state, wondering why he had accepted such an offering from a weak country like Rafiya. Every single person in this room wished to remove the man from his throne, but none were so brave that they would openly speak against him. That's why he would let them talk as much as they wanted, all while letting out a yawn as he restlessly continued to tap on the armrest, the sound drowning out all of these cowards complaints about him.

Instead, his mind drifted away somewhere else. To the unrest that he had heard about in the southernmost regions of these lands. While Karindo was a land that thrived thanks to the conquest and wars he had fueled, there were those that would be happy to defy him, to take from him what he had regained in the few years he had been king. Whether foolish or brave to plot against him, he didn't know, but he did know that he could not do to have such people run rampant with his knowledge. If people knew that he was letting such defiance exist in his kingdom, or the lands surrounding, then his reputation as king would suffer. He couldn't let that happen. Which was the cause of his unrest; the more time he spent sitting on this throne, the more rumors would spread about his supposed leniency to such defiance. Xeno would start tapping his foot as well, just thinking about it.

It was a long while, as the nobles continued to murmur amongst themselves, before they fell silent as a new, unfamiliar face entered the hall. The murmurs turned into jeers and cheers; the king of Rafiya had made good on his word! The cheers were not in response to the beauty that blessed them with her presence, but rather her father's foolishness in accepting Xeno's selfish demands. Surely he was an ignorant man, not to know of The Beast King's precarious position in this current moment; there was no way a declaration of war would push past the council when there was talk of rebellion. But perhaps that was all part of his plan, after all. Knowing that their reputation would be enough to dissuade any kind of pushback, Xeno had put out a bluff the Elven King would not be able to call, and he had gained himself the heiress to the crown as a result.

“Hello, Beast King.”

"Excuse me?" Were the first words that Xeno uttered in all the time the nobles had been standing there, and they all shrunk in response to his booming voice as his wolf-like ears twitched in annoyance (a tick he was unable to work against) as he grabbed both armrests of his throne and pushed himself off the grand, decorated seat. Not a curtsie nor a bow? It seemed like this woman was ready to put her neck on the line simply for the sake of defying him, of disrespecting him. He took three heavy steps down from the dais to stand over the elven woman. "I am not some old friend of yours to greet me so casually, Crown Princess. Or rather, should I say former Crown Princess?" He grabbed the elf's chin between his index and thumb and studied her features for a moment before turning her around, grabbing both of her shoulders and tearing down her dress to reveal her upper undergarments to the rest of the nobles in the room.

The nobles cheered at the display, ogling the woman's bosom and pristine skin.

"Perhaps your father failed to teach you respect? You're in the court of a king. You shall bow to me if you don't wish to be ashamed in front of all these people."
 
The Princess, despite her verbal finesse, had a special breed of distaste for formalities. Her tongue could be as sweet as a songbird, or as sharp as a dagger. Within court, her every move was measured. Careful. It was her duty to be a gracious host to all that were welcome. Yet this was not her home. She was not welcome in this place, nor were she allowed to leave. The man, the beast before her, did not deserve her saccharine niceties.

Morgana was the sole woman tasked with shouldering an empire. She was not born to bow to foreign filth. Her own country was greedy, choosing to crumble in their solitary rather than fight. Her father was a fool who valued solace over freedom. But even if the entire world wanted to pull her throne out from under her, she’d fight with her last breath.

The boisterous clamour of lofty nobles had softened into a pliant hum. Entering a hostile den, she was eager to detect her enemies. Through her peripheral vision she could witness a variety of expressions. Those who had sworn fealty to their King wore masks of shock and displeasure. Then there were the others. She recognized the cloud of distortion overcoming the room, as she realized she were not the only subject of hostility. These nobles did not want a feral beast on their throne. It appeared the rumors were true. The Beast King was a usurper. She could not help the smirk splayed across her lips at this revelation.

The Beast King himself was a formidable foe. She assessed his physical stature, noting the annoying twitch of his ear and the spark in his eye. The wolf-like appendages seemed to react according to his emotions. Information that would come in handy for later. Springing from his seat, she was able to take in his full height. It was easy to tell he was power-driven by the weight of his footsteps. The ‘tak’ of his boots were so loud, they drowned out the gasps and gawking of the other nobles.

His voice was like a poison. Intoxicating, overbearing, and deadly. The words that left his lips drew shivers from her spine, and fire from her veins. Intimidating, and all the more infuriating than she’d imagined.

"I am not some old friend of yours to greet me so casually, Crown Princess. Or rather, should I say former Crown Princess?"

Blood boiled in swarms of rage, rupturing her composure within seconds. She could feel her canines elongate from her gums, her horns threatening to sprout between the crown of braids atop her head. The devil within her riled and writhed, clawing against the walls of her flesh.

Steam billowed through her nostrils as she griped for some form of poise.

“The right to the Crown is in my blood. I won’t give it up until you bleed me dry.” She sneered, though the statement had just barely left her mouth before he’d taken her into his arms.

A thunderous current ripped through her body as the sudden contact. She was stunned, unable to process the touch of his callous fingertips against her skin. In all her life, she’d never been touched by a man. Not directly at least. It was a hellish, warm sensation that she rejected with every nerve in her body. Her eyes flew wide open as she choked on the sound of her dress ripping. The tethered fabric withered around her waist, revealing the scraps of lace that remained her only shield of modesty. The unsolicited gazes burned into her skin, staining her with despair. Ocean water welled at the edges of her lashes, shimmering over whirling orbs of spleen.

Not like this.

I won’t go down like this.

She braced her feet as her hands moved to rid herself of the remaining fabric. If this were her fate, so be it. It took great effort to ignore the oncoming stares as she stripped her gown, kicking it to the side.

“I show respect to those who’ve earned it.” Morgana bared her fangs, and growled. Her movements had already begun, shifting behind the beast and striking at his lower spine with her bare feet. She’d aimed straight for his spinal nerves, seeking to throw him off the dais. “Shame is for the weak.” She spat, tumbling forward off her toes, flipping mid-leap, and landing gracefully beside a distracted noble. The fool was so overly-invested in the show, he’d probably expected the guards to do something at this point. As did she. It would be a rookie mistake to steal a weapon from an alert guard. Snatching the dagger at his hip, she whirled back towards the beast and shot the blade directly between his shoulders. “You are nothing more than one of the dogs I hunt in the woods, little beast.” She declared, jumping over the dais steps and perching herself on the arm of his throne. Her steps were aerial and lithe, like a panther.

“I am Princess Morgana of Rafiya. I will bow to no man. You want a fight? You’ve got one.”
 
“The right to the Crown is in my blood. I won’t give it up until you bleed me dry.”

Xeno's white fangs were born as a smirk crept onto his lips, amused by the woman's words of rebellion. He had expected a docile princess who would piss herself in fear when her little display of defiance was called out for the bluff that it was, but it seemed like she wasn't about to bow down. So the rumors about a rowdy princess who had turned down every suitor of hers were true. Perhaps, then, she might be a challenge worthy of his attention. It seemed that there was fun in the courtroom as well, if a woman like her existed. Yet he couldn't help but imagine she, too, didn't belong in the throne room, but outside in the wild, wild world. He chuckled. "Is that a challenge? It was my original intention, after all, to spill the blood of you elves, had your foolish father not given me such a generous gift."

"Truly, he is an idiot, is he not, King Xeno?" A man possessing fennec-like ears and a white mane commented from beside the throne. It was Shisha, his counselor and one of the few courtsmen the king trusted. He had been the one to suggest Xeno threatened the elven king with war, if only to extort war funds from him. He had succeeded, and then some, as they could see now. The old man was just as unfazed by the woman's boldness as he gazed down at the pair.

It was only for a moment that he turned to give Shisha a knowing smirk, but it was apparently enough for the elven princess to break away from his grasp. Xeno turned to look back when he heard her moving, but she was so swift that she was already behind him by the time he had turned to look at her. She was quick on her feet, he'd give her that, but her strength was nothing to him. He felt her feet on his spine and though the kick would have pushed just about anyone else off their feet, maybe even pushed them onto their face, Xeno was not such a man and he simply took a step forward before regaining his balance. Though she didn't succeed in making a fool of him with that, the wolfkind was annoyed even further by her actions, his gaze following her as she landed behind one of the foolish nobles that were just enjoying the show. Xeno let out a chuckle at the stupid look on his face as a dagger was stolen from him.

“Shame is for the weak.”

"Heh."

There was a scream in the crowd as the dagger was thrown, aimed directly between his eyes... and caught mid-air by a swift hand as Xeno turned to look up at the princess perched atop his throne. A throne that he had no attachment to, fairly enough, but a symbol of his grandness and so her little display was no less disrespectful than all of her other actions. Xeno took a glance at the dagger that had been thrown at him. Tempered silver and a hilt decorated by beautiful gems; it was truly a dagger befitting of an idiot noble. He grabbed the tip of it and snapped it in half with his fingers before tossing it back over to its owner. The guards that had escorted her had just now began to react, conveniently at the moment that there was no more danger, but Xeno simply held his hand up at them, letting them know there was no need for them. Funnily enough, they were quick to accept that, probably too scared to go near the woman.

“You are nothing more than one of the dogs I hunt in the woods, little beast.”

"Is that your attempt at looking tough? In that case, then you really should feel ashamed." Xeno let out a yawn, ears spreading out in opposite directions as he climbed back up the dais, his piercing gaze hinting at murder even as he smirked at her, his fangs bared at her. He let out a low chuckle. "It's of no interest of mine if you bow to me or not, Princess Morgana. I have fought stronger foes and crushed them with a single hand. No, I will not lay a finger on you. However," he snapped his fingers and Shisha produced a papyrus scroll from his robe, handing it Xeno. The king unfolded it and studied its contents for a moment before reciting them to the princess. "Dear King of Rafiya, your eldest daughter has caused great offense to our nation, with irreparable damage done. Such an offering will not do, so we have decided to imprison her. This time, if you wish to avoid war, I ask for your two other daughters. Failure to comply with these demands will be seen as an insult to my kingdom and I will be forced to declare war on your country to reclaim my pride."

Xeno rolled up the scroll and handed it back to Shisha, beckoning the man to fall back. The elderly man did so and he was quickly surrounded by guards. Once Xeno was sure he was in no danger, he turned back to gaze at Morgana... and kicked the throne with such force that the wooden construct was forced to break down. It tumbled over into a heap of decorated trash, a gasp rising from the crowd. Murmurs of shock and disbelief could be heard among them, but Xeno was undeterred by them. "Learn your place, Princess Morgana. You may have been allowed to do as you wished back in your lands, but do not think for a moment that I will tolerate further disrespect. I'm sure you would first die than bow down to me, but do you think your sisters are as selfish as you? I would not mind having them, and all the women in your kingdom, tossed in my dungeon for me to enjoy at my leisure." Xeno was sure to emphasize the last part so that there was no mistake in his intentions, a lecherous smile on his face as he imagined it.

"As much as I find your attitude to be entertaining, I have much to do besides humor your tantrums. Make your decision."
 
A frown inched its way across her pink lips as the beast had managed to avoid her attacks. To strike his spinal cord… he truly was a beast. Most creatures would crumble at the impact alone. He’d barely been nudged out of place. It had also been an oversight not to consider his animal instincts, as he managed to intercept the projectile she’d sent his way. The dagger was indeed a decorative device, but it was still sharp enough to intend harm. She didn’t have time to be picky. It was smithed with decent metals, and that was plenty good. She never imagined the savage would snap it with his bare hands.

Her hatred was not enough to suppress how impressed she was. She sat atop the dais, marveling at the man she recognized as her enemy. Her heart thudded with plumes of blood sinking into her belly. Oxygen rushed through her nose and into the back of her throat as their eyes met. Swarms of amber, all-consuming, as they connected with her gaze. She could’ve sworn she’d stopped breathing.

A fox broke her infatuated stare, speaking about the Rafiyan King. Her father. She was not disturbed by his comment, as she was by his brashness to speak. She would need to be wary of that one. To be able to speak commonly with the King was no cheap commodity. His clothing suggested him to be an advisor of some sort.

The King was unconcerned with the advisor’s commentary. His attention was focused solely on her as he spoke.

“It's of no interest of mine if you bow to me or not, Princess Morgana. I have fought stronger foes and crushed them with a single hand. No, I will not lay a finger on you.”

Garnet gems narrowed between the curtains of her lashes, displaying her skepticism. The fennec-eared advisor attended his side, producing a parchment scroll from his robe and presenting it in a rather smug fashion.

The beast unfurled the scroll, beginning to recite its contents. “Dear King of Rafiya, your eldest daughter has caused great offense to our nation, with irreparable damage done. Such an offering will not do, so we have decided to imprison her. This time, if you wish to avoid war, I ask for your two other daughters. Failure to comply with these demands will be seen as an insult to my kingdom and I will be forced to declare war on your country to reclaim my pride.”

“No.” She whispered, her lips parted in desperation. Her right hand grasped the armrest of her perch with wrath bubbling beneath her grip. “Ailan and Gwen are off limits.” She hissed under her breath.

The Rafiyan palace was not as kind as outsiders painted it to be. It was a chamber of mental torture and deadly politics ever since the death of the Queen. The heir to the throne was too important to be concerned with matters such as family or kinship. Since birth, the three siblings had lived separate lives. Whilst Morgana attended mandatory lessons and relentless training, her sisters would bide their time aimlessly in the gardens. From the window of the Eastern Dungeon, she could watch Ailan weave flower crowns for Gwendolyn. They were free. And they would remain that way so long as she was alive. The King was indeed a fool, with little regard for his children. His love for Ailan and Gwen would not be enough to stop him from sending them off in shackles. Morgana loved her sisters as she loved her people. She would protect them with the utmost ferocity if anyone dared to harm them.

The scroll was proof that he’d anticipated her behavior. She didn’t wish to unveil any other preparations that may damage the truce that currently existed. The beast kicked the throne with excessive force, decimating it to pieces. She barely caught the last second to regain her balance, standing before she crumbled down along with the former throne.

In spite of their squabbling, the beast had acknowledged her. He established a concrete respect for her by addressing her by her title. Princess Morgana.

And although he made her seethe rage, she could acknowledge a respect for him. He was strong, thorough, and cool-headed. Those qualities were a worthy opponent to her.

“Your troops are busy with the Southern borders.” She said, stepping down from the dais. “While I do not believe you could produce an immediate attack upon my lands- I trust that fool of a King to hand over anything to avoid it.” She sighed, her lids falling shut as she neared him.

“Fine, King Xeno.” She yielded, begrudgingly, as she addressed him by name. Her lids flashed open once more to meet him earnestly. I acknowledge you, her gaze effused.

“What is it you desire of me?”
 
“Ailan and Gwen are off limits.”

"Oh, but they're not, princess," Xeno barked back at her, feeling himself swell up with arrogance as the girl's feisty demeanor broke down if only for a moment. Everyone had something they cared about more than anything else, after all. He chuckled to himself as he cleaned off some dirt from his cape, a suffocating accessory he'd not chosen for himself, but rather something that was designed to make him even grander. "All that matters is that I win, no matter the cost. Remember that well the next time you try a silly stunt like this again." He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze unshaking from the woman as she seemed to weigh her options, though the answer to them both was quite clear. "If your intention is to defy me, I advise that you kill me, because the consequences of your actions will not hurt only you, but those that you care about. I am a king, after all; angering me is angering my kingdom."

He sighed to himself as the throne crumbled, turning away from Morgan to face the nobles, who were still watching with great interest. It seemed like the pair had given them a good show, one they would run off to tell their friends and family. 'The Beast King is housing something wilder than him in his palace', he could already hear them saying. They would say whatever, twist the truth however they needed to, just so they could push their agendas against him. "You may leave," he called out to the crowd, waving his hand dismissively at them. Once again, their gossiping grew silent as the man's voice carried through the room, countless ears twitching in response. Some in confusion, others in anger and annoyance. "I will listen to your gripes when I return." All, however, did as they were told, eventually ushered out from the room by the guards. Even Shisha left, certainly not eager to be in a room alone with someone as wild as their king. He was hard to handle by himself; he didn't want to imagine him being around someone with his same temperament. And that was considering Xeno had been tempered by age.

“Your troops are busy with the Southern borders.”

"Ah, your father knows this, yet he still accepted to my demands for you?" Xeno chuckled, finding her misfortune to be quite the entertaining turn of events. Surely she must have been fuming. "He truly is a fool, isn't he? Well, he is your father. Like father like daughter, yes? While he was a fool to accept my demands, you're a fool for thinking you could make a fool of me in my own throne room. So I suppose your family is a special breed of idiots."

Xeno paced around the room for a bit, his eyes closed as he considered her words, rubbing his chin with his fingers. It seemed as though she had a good brain in her head, at least. Perhaps he could find use for her beyond her body. Which was, and he wasn't ashamed to say it, one that he found himself fancying even as the woman put on a show earlier. "You're right, however. My troops are busy with other business in the south. Even if I were to declare war on your land, it would take too long to mobilize them, while leaving the borders unguarded for my enemies down in the continent to stab me in the back." It was no use trying to hide such a thing from her.

“What is it you desire of me?”

He looked up from the floor and to her, considering her for a moment before smirking. He walked around her, allowing a hand to venture to her behind, slipping a hand into her undergarments to pull on them, then let go, a loud, snapping sound echoing in the chamber as the silky cloth slapped against her generous cheek. "Your body, of course. But I know you've refused every suitor that has come your way. I won't take your maidenhood from you. I find it much more appealing having you offer it to me. And you will offer yourself to me." He backed away before she could fight back, a womanizing confidence exuding from him as he turned his back to her and beckoned her to follow him as he walked past the fallen throne, standing beside a door behind the dais and the seat.

"For now, however, just follow me. We need to give you travel-worthy clothes." He said, taking the knob in his hand and walking into the room, revealing a flight of stairs that would eventually lead to his own chamber. He looked back at her over his shoulder, letting his gaze wander to her feet. "By the way, I saw no shoes being kicked off when you tore your dress off. Am I right to assume you came into my throne room barefooted?" Xeno didn't need an answer for that one. Rather than get annoyed at yet another transgression, however, he simply laughed at the prospect, finding that last small detail to be more endearing, rather than offensive. It was something a child would do just to get back at their parents. He walked up the stairs, shaking his head at the thought, only finding his smile to have grown once he pushed past the door at the top and welcomed the woman into his room.

"This is my bedroom. And now, it shall be yours too. Don't worry, the bed is big enough for us both," he added the last part cheekily, motioning his arm to the king-sized bed at the center of the room. It was circular, decorated with crushed velvet and big enough to house Xeno and five other maidens in it as well- though unbeknownst to her, Morgana was the first woman to be welcomed into the room. A bed fit for a man of his status and reputation. On it rested some hunter's clothes that he'd had prepared for her, though they might've been made a bit tight at his request, as well as a set of undergarments designed for more physically-demanding activities.

"Now, go on and change out of those undergarments. They're unfit for where we're going," he declared, stripping down from his royal clothes himself, tossing them aside. He stopped only as his hands lined the edges of his underpants, gazing over to the woman who had yet to move an inch. "Were you, perhaps, expecting me to go out for you to change? How childish. Perhaps I shall watch you change, in that case."
 
Defeat was an insect that made her skin crawl. It disturbed her, haunted her in the dead of night. It would not leave her for quite some time. Experiencing any form of defeat jerked her into a sinking pit of regret. Her every weakness would gnaw at her ears and eat away at her flesh. It was the only entity that exposed and extorted the living into death. Her shortcomings had always been the center of her loathing. She couldn’t bear the feeling of immobility. Of being helpless. There were a great number of days where she had been nothing but helpless. As a child she vowed to rack together every scrap of strength she could muster- no matter the price. And yet, as an adult woman, he stood as the reigning monolith of her weakness. For the first time in a while, that man made her feel helpless.

“Off limits.” She repeated to him, more of a demand than a plea.

It was true that he riled more hatred than she’d ever felt- but she would be damned if she did not eventually succeed. If you do not succeed at first, then try, try again. The little saying thumped out of tune with the throbbing of her aching head. No matter how painful, how terrible, she could not give in to the Beast.

“If you thought that was a tantrum, you’ve got hell to pay when I actually give you one.” She growled, but kept the baring of her fangs in check. She would admit defeat for today, so long she would win tomorrow.

The Beast dismissed their audience with the wave of a hand. It seemed he no longer had the patience for the hyenas that acted as his noblemen. They’d been gobbling up their conversation, eager to spew out twisted versions of their words. It would be a benefit for the both of them to operate without onlookers. The majority of them filed out of the throne room, though there were a few stragglers that were begging to have her scare them out. Even the fennec was wise enough to put space between himself and the huntress of a princess.

Their lack of presence brought an onslaught of insults from the King, defaming her intelligence. It took everything she had to quell the storm raging underneath. As much as she desperately wanted to drag him through the mud with his unfounded accusations, she would not. Fanning the flames after finding somewhat of a middle ground would not be prudent. The Beast paced about in thought, his fingers busied by rubbing the mild scruff on his chin. They were long, dexterous appendages. She found herself thinking back to how those fingers felt against her own skin. Rosy pigment splattered across her cheeks, her freckled nose scrunching in discomfort at the memory.

“You're right, however. My troops are busy with other business in the south. Even if I were to declare war on your land, it would take too long to mobilize them, while leaving the borders unguarded for my enemies down in the continent to stab me in the back.”

His admittance was enough to wipe away the messy, menacing look on her face. Ah, she thought. He’d given her crucial information for negotiating without remorse. It was the result of two simple facts. His acknowledgement of her, and her lack of threat. It wouldn’t be long till his opinion changed. She would become the very worst threat he’d ever encounter.

Her body stiffened as he neared her, circling as a predator would to their prey. There lied a sickening quirk of his lips as he surveyed her, triggering waves in her gut. Once again she was subjected to his callous touch, flames licking up the trail he’d left in his wake. She would’ve stopped him, had she been more prepared.

"Your body, of course. But I know you've refused every suitor that has come your way. I won't take your maidenhood from you. I find it much more appealing having you offer it to me. And you will offer yourself to me."

The confidence in his words were resolute. The glint in his eyes stole the air from her lungs. This man, without a doubt, thought he could manage to ensnare her. After the countless suitors she’d denied, he honestly thought he could woo her. She almost wanted to seriously consider his threat, if only to debunk the mountain of reasons why it’d never happen. Morgana was a cynical woman. Her world consisted of the chains that bound her to this earth. It did not have room for luxuries such as love or indulgence. Royals were not given that sort of luxury. Wearing the crown meant shouldering the weight of her people. She did not have time to waste her days in bed, or thinking about stupid things like love.

Morgana could not contain her own laughter, the sound like silver bells. “In your nightmares, beastie. I do not waste my time with such fickle things.” She was mildly joking, though her words were one hundred percent true.

Her steps followed after him with temporary obedience; quiet, as they traversed up a flight of stairs. Riling him was becoming an addictive itch. Staring at his back, she formulated a number of ways she could piss him off- but found none to be wise considering their destination. This type of passageway could only lead to the King’s chambers. Angering him on the way to his bedroom, (almost) in the nude, was a plan erected for disaster. Nearing the doorway, he turned, his attention fixated at her feet.

“By the way, I saw no shoes being kicked off when you tore your dress off. Am I right to assume you came into my throne room barefooted?”

The bundle of her toes curled against the stone floors, pressing into the cool grain as if they could hide from their crimes. She could barely restrain the wiles of mischief grazing her tongue, if she were to speak. Instead, she confirmed his suspicion with silence- her complexion steeping in hues of vermillion. How embarrassing for him to notice, now. Her eyebrows were engaging in a duel between frustration and looming chagrin. The new surroundings were a welcomed distraction to her emotional turmoil.

Clean slates of marble greeted the pads of her feet, smoothing out into a massive ring-shaped space. Moonlight spilled through the grand western windows, illuminating the area with a silver glow. The bed was the focal point of the room, draped with sleek velvets and velour. The sheets beckoned her with silken threads of satin, whispering promise of sweet surrender. Her muscles yearned to melt into the soft pillows and lustrous fabric. She could not remember the last time she’d slumbered in a bed.

Morgana was not so petty to refuse a bed when offered. Regardless if it had been shared. It was a golden opportunity to gain ground with her adversary. The beast was too cheeky to realize she was already forming poisons she could administer during his sleep. She wasn’t thrilled to be sleeping under the same covers. But what would it matter if she shared it with a corpse?

On the other hand, she absolutely objected to the idea of him dressing her. It was all too reminiscent of the way the Rafiyan King would dress her to attract suitors. She snorted at the sight of the outfit he’d prepared. Yes, it was indeed functional. It was also scores flashier than her fighting leathers from home. There was nothing to cover to her midsection, and the top featured a very low-cut décolletage. Despite her show in the throne room, Morgana was not used to showing skin. The most she’d revealed in public were her arms and throat. Stripping as she did was the largest bluff she’d ever pulled. Anxiety slithered through her core as she weighed her options. The Beast took this opportunity to taunt her in her nakedness, provoking the habitual flood of crimson to her pale face.

"Were you, perhaps, expecting me to go out for you to change? How childish. Perhaps I shall watch you change, in that case."

The antithesis of her actions, he’d already begun stripping himself. Xeno peeled away the layers with ease, clearly used to the notion. He’d probably done the same in front of other female guests to his bedroom.

“Haven’t you seen the body of a woman before?” She jeered, her nose crinkling in revulsion to his insinuated hobbies.

She was fuming, panicked to escape before the removal of his underpants took effect. She was not about to get naked with him. Morgana plucked the clothes from the bed and bolted into the connecting washroom. The door slammed behind her while she scrambled to change before he chose to investigate her progress. Not a moment later, she swung the door open- her chest heaving. The waistband of her trousers dug into her hips, and the seams of her top were suffocating her breasts. It was unintendedly ill-fit, but did its job just fine.

“Happy?” She huffed in a vexing manner. If she weren’t so busy cursing his high-handed demands, she would have taken time to appreciate the quality of the garment.
 
“In your nightmares, beastie. I do not waste my time with such fickle things.”

"Perhaps you have just not had a man to show you the wonders of said fickle things," Xeno commented, finding himself chuckling along with her. Yet, the two found humor in different things. She might've thought he would be like all the other men looking to bed her, but she would be wrong in thinking he was as weak-willed as them. Most men would've been scared off by her trying to kill them, but Xeno simply found excitement in the prospect of seducing a woman who was actively trying to kill him. She was way out of her element, and she just didn't know it yet. But he would be more than happy to show her just how much of a disadvantage she was in as time went on. Truthfully, he found her silent plotting to be amusing, like a child trying t0 get the upper hand against their parent. Even now, his instincts told him she was plotting against his life. It'd be fun, if nothing else, to see what she would come up with.

It was all he could do to mask his excitement at the prospect of a woman in his bedroom, eyeing her closely, gauging her reactions as she seemed to ponder on her actions now. Would she do as he said and strip down, or would she risk having him strip her himself, should his patience run short? He wouldn't mind helping her out of her undergarments if she proved too stubborn, but either way he would enjoy the show. Or he would have, if she wasn't as sly as she was.

“Haven’t you seen the body of a woman before?”

"Of my kind, sure. I have enjoyed many women, probably fathered a few sons without knowing. But I have a treat today. Are you that surprised that I want to appraise the body of a princess? There's no need to be shy. I'll see everything eventually..." Before he could finish the sentence, having start approaching the woman, she slipped away from him before he could even touch her. She was slippery for sure, and as much as it made him annoyed, he was even more entertained by her wit. Of course she would be quick to find a suitable third option to deny him of the fun he wanted. Xeno huffed, his ears twitching as she shut the door behind her. She must've known the door itself would offer no protection from him, but maybe she knew that he enjoyed the chase more than he enjoyed the prize. In the end, if he was to enjoy the sight of her naked body, it would be of her own accord. Xeno simply crossed his arms as he took a few steps toward the washroom and listened to her fumbling around the clothes, letting his imagination run wild as he heard the sound of clothes falling to the ground. It helped that she had boldly shown herself in the throne room.

“Happy?”

"For now," he smirked, turning around and grabbing at the hem of his underpants to let them fall, and allowing the woman the sight of his bare back as he pulled open a drawer on the other side of the room and grabbed a fresh pair; one that was more suited for what they were about to do. He slipped them on, the rest of his clothes following shortly after. Just like her, he had chosen a battle-worthy outfit, though his were much bulkier. A white shirt and a chainmail over it, a leather vest with metal pads on either shoulder and a pair of leather pants with kneeguards, as well as some boots with iron soles. Though the clothes were heavier, Xeno felt much more liberated in these clothes than he did in his royal garments. For the first time all day, he felt he could breathe easy now that he was wearing something more familiar to him. After stretching out the threads, he turned around to look at Morgana, approaching her and folding slightly so his face was directly in front of hers. "You shall be begging for me to steal you of your clothes soon enough, princess."

His voice was taunting, almost as if its only objective was to evoke a reaction from the woman. He was not so blind as to miss the flush that would momentarily cross her freckled complexion whenever he was risque in his speech. He had often seen the same blush cross the cheeks of a clueless tavern girl that'd fall for a man with a few tales of adventure. Perhaps she was not so different from them. Still, he couldn't imagine her being too thrilled about the constant teasing, so he quickly pulled away and pulled yet another drawer open, this time producing two cloth bags. He tossed one to Morgana and hung the other to his belt.

"We're going down south," he said, his expression sobering immediately as he changed the subject. It seemed that he wasn't too happy about it, even though it gave him a chance to go out of the palace. "Am I right to assume your kingdom is familiar with the prospect of dark magics? You see, us animalkind are not very fond of magic, as we respect strength, something more tangible, more than it. Still, there are those that would break our sacred laws and be seduced by darker powers. There is such a person down in the south, near the very tip of the lands. A place where my hand as a king can't reach."

Xeno turned to the door and walked out of his chamber, allowing Morgana to walk past him before he closed to the door behind them. "Necromancy. This person has managed to raise an army of undead to defy me. I don't know where they draw such power from, but my men have their hands full fending off waves after waves of undead. And as more time goes on, my army dwindles while this necromancer's army only grows stronger. The only way to get rid of these monstrosities is by burning them, but morale grows low as men are forced to burn the remains of former friends. People are starting to call for me to give up the throne as a result." His expression was grim as he spoke, a sort of regret coming over him as he thought back on how he had left his army behind just to welcome the princess.

They walked through the halls, undeterred by their servants, as Xeno guided the woman to the stables. It wasn't long before they had reached them, a pair of horses waiting for them. His steed was a dark horse with a white mane, while the steed he had prepared for Morgana was white, as pristine as the woman's skin. "A gift," he motioned to the horse, offering it to her as he climbed onto his own.

"As much as I would like to spend our first night together in my bed, I'm afraid there is no time to waste. Simply being here to welcome you has probably cost my men dozens of lives just today. We must make haste to search for this vile sorcerer. And I'm going to have you prove your worth to my kingdom. You'll do it, right? Karindo is the only thing keeping this undead army from reaching the homes of your people."
 
This was the beginning of a downward spiral. As the two rulers played at fickle games, the very binds of the universe were dissolving. The threads of fate wove a wicked, treacherous web that aligned their souls in ways the two could not begin to comprehend. Colors of the night roamed the shadows and painted vows of woe. His aura effused danger. She was inevitably drawn to chaos, as she was to him. A wild, dethroned princess- and a beastly, strife-ridden king. A match designed by the gods of maelstrom. She’d understood this as their eyes first met. And, as they waded about his chambers in petty bantering. Try as she may, she could not outrun him. Try, try again. So then she would kill him if she must.

“For now,” He’d surrendered with a wistful grin.

She admired his set of powerful jaws, accompanied by sparkling white teeth. “If I were born with another life,” her mind drifted into the darkness that leaked from his smile, “I might happily perish at the claws of that beast.” The thought was barely present at the back of her subconscious, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Lingering desire dilated her pupils, hungrily staring at the fine specimen before her. The sight of his shoulder blades gliding across muscle and bone was near cathartic. Sharp edges of her canines extended to comfort her salivating tongue. Armor and leather obscured her view, jolting her from her star-glazed trance.

What was I thinking?

Her complexion grew florid- an unfortunate habit while in the presence of the Beast. Xeno had finished dressing, approaching her and leaning down to meet her height. Her blush was on full display, this way.

"You shall be begging for me to steal you of your clothes soon enough, princess."

She would doubt him, so long as she were able to. This man was a senseless murderer. A greedy tyrant. A monster. The man in front of her was responsible for the starving cities of Myrna. He’d ordered the pillaging of the once lush valleys of Suuvris, turning it into a desolate wasteland. He was deserving of the title ‘Beast’. She hated him. He was aesthetically attractive. But he was nothing more than a vessel to the black coal he called a heart. His body, his games, were a glorified ploy for his vile agenda. She half-considered expressing her disgust, her thoughts derailed by a cloth pouch. Her reflexes were quicker than her consciousness; her arm shooting up to catch the bag. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she posed a questioning brow. The energy in the air had shifted to something more sinister, his face reflecting a solemn tone. The mention of a journey further south did not sound like a honeymoon.

Her first instinct would be to question why he would bring her on this trip with him. Why not his best warriors? Why not his own men? She wouldn’t be so optimistic to chalk it up to being a strong threat. Nor would a know-it-all acknowledge her intellect.

"Am I right to assume your kingdom is familiar with the prospect of dark magics? You see, us animalkind are not very fond of magic, as we respect strength, something more tangible, more than it. Still, there are those that would break our sacred laws and be seduced by darker powers. There is such a person down in the south, near the very tip of the lands. A place where my hand as a king can't reach."

“My kingdom is not.” She said slowly, folding her arms beneath her breasts. Her eyes studied him for a moment, transitioning to a much darker, muddied shade of green. “I am.” The confession was a hefty token to be handing to her enemy. The study of dark magic was illegal in the Elvish lands. It had been banned for generations, even to the High Council. Not that it stopped the lesser fae inhabiting their borders. The use of dark magic was considered treason.

Wordlessly he lead her out of the room, down the steps and through the halls. The Beast had to be desperate to be turning to a magic-user for help. His reign was questionable as it was, but for him not to retain the control of his own lands was concerning. There was only one region he could be speaking of. The Badlands. Not many dared to enter their territory, regardless of which kingdom they belonged to. It was rumored to house an oasis, and, the deadliest city in all the Desert. They were entirely self-functioning with a mish-mash of species as their citizens.

"Necromancy. This person has managed to raise an army of undead to defy me. I don't know where they draw such power from, but my men have their hands full fending off waves after waves of undead. And as more time goes on, my army dwindles while this necromancer's army only grows stronger. The only way to get rid of these monstrosities is by burning them, but morale grows low as men are forced to burn the remains of former friends. People are starting to call for me to give up the throne as a result."

He continued, trudging out towards the stables, a pair of horses waiting for them. As she’d suspected, there were only two. One for her, and one for him. A whirlwind of emotions now startled her heart, beating in quick-time. The first was rage. It swept through her body like a spark, igniting whorls of energy to gather at her palms- now crumpled into fists. He knew nothing of the consequences his ignorance would reap. If what he spoke was the truth, it was not just Karindo who was in danger. A necromancer would threaten the world as they knew it- turning it into a vortex of decay and ash.

“You kept this a secret- you… you!” She roared into the night, flame crackling from her fingertips.

The next was guilt, as she realized he’d abandoned his troops for the sake of formalities. He let soldiers die for the sake of welcoming her into his home. For someone so careless, he was quick to criticize Rafiya’s style of rule.

“You left the front lines, and for my-!” She cut herself off again, sighing as she reached out to her horse. Her hands were careful not to set ablaze while she caressed the horse’s muzzle, pressing her forehead into the animal’s neck. It took her a minute to regroup, her conference with the horse appearing like a private meeting. It almost seemed as if she was apologizing to the creature, as if saying, “Sorry you had to meet me like this.” After a few more seconds of their secretive conversing, she mounted the horse. She gave a stern look to the man at her right, a new breed of ferocity burning in her tumultuous green irises.

“I pay my debts, Xeno. But it is not the only reason I am coming with you.” Puffs of steam stemmed from her nose, her own horse snorting in concurrence. “You have no idea what you are getting yourself into. To have kept this a secret from the other kingdoms, to send your troops to become dead men… the damage is irrevocable.” Her hands tightened around the reins.

“Necromancy is not a game, Beast.” A snarl was craving to rip from the back of her throat. “Magic is not something you summon from thin air!” She ran a hand through her hair.

“We all draw from the same pool.” Strands of hair spilled through her fingers, some of her tousled braids coming undone. “All things in the universe must exist in balance. Life and Death are the monarchs of this reality. To disrupt that balance is treason to all of us. If this continues, the planes of our existence will become a playground for forces much more wicked than you or I could dream of.”

Morgana shook her head. It all made sense, now. For the last several months, she’d received reports of hellish creatures prowling the Fae cities. They were manifestations of something demonic; nothing like their kind had ever witnessed. If the Necromancer was tampering with the veils between their realms, it would explain the leak.

“If it is a single target conducting this work, as you say, then he cannot be channeling this type of power by himself. There are too many missing pieces.” Her head ached horribly from the possibilities flooding her head. It was drowning her brain into a path of despair. Forget about treaties, or her crown. She was stuck rectifying this mess with him, so long she wanted to protect her people. Oh yeah, she hated him. But he was all she got.

“I am not doing this for the sake of self-worth.” She snapped. “I am doing this to save all our sorry asses. Enemy or not.”

These were the last words to leave her lips for the following ride to their destination. Her reigns cracked like a whip, speeding her and her steed into motion. She would keep pace and stay within range to him, but refused to even so much as look his way.
 
“You kept this a secret- you… you!”

"And if I did?" Xeno glared at the woman, thoroughly displeased by her sudden outburst.

He didn't expect any less, yet he wasn't about to take it from someone who hadn't a hint of the realities of ruling as queen. She was a child, as far as he was concerned; naive, offensive, rough, wild. All of the things he had once been. Though he put up the appearance of a whimsical king, he was far from one, each and every one of his actions carefully calculated. He couldn't have possibly survived as long as he did while maintaining a life of strife and a reckless search for constant war. Many had come for his head, borne their fangs at his throat. Even more than her little show at the throne room, her audacity at judging him right here was what truly triggered his anger. He did not speak a word, but it was a silent flame in his eyes as he watched her, allowed her to say her piece at him. She could scorn him all he wanted, but that wouldn't change a thing about their current situation.

“You left the front lines, and for my-!”

"Perhaps I should've left you to rot in my palace, then? Would that have made you happy? I can still have it arranged to throw you into a dungeon cell. Have you gagged and chained so that you'd be unable to slash your wrists in defiance." He was seriously considering it, even as the woman climbed onto the stallion. At least its company seemed to ease her, a great contrast to what his own presence seemed to invoke in her. His eyes softened only for a moment as he watched her tend to the beautiful horse's mane. In that brief moment that she appeased the animal, she had an innocent air of beauty to her. Part of him wanted to reach out, to touch that beauty, but he was well aware that he would only spoil it. Perhaps he could allow her to tend to the horses when they came back. If they came back. Xeno sighed at the thought before letting out a breath that resembled a chuckle; he wasn't used to actually contemplating his mortality, but they might as well be heading to their deaths at this very moment.

"Spare me the hocus pocus, woman. I have no interest in knowing of your filthy practices. All I need you to do is help me track this necromancer. After that, I shall find some other use for you. Spare me your idealistic ramblings too. You elves might have grand idea about war, but sending men to their death is my duty, just as it is theirs to die for this country. Do you think I force men to join my army? Every single man and woman out on the field is out there because they have something to protect. So do not insult their spirits by pitying them; it was their decision to die for what they held dear. And it is my duty to honor their sacrifice by bringing the monster responsible for this to justice. I shall decorate my hall with their head if I'm given the chance."

Xeno sighed once more, shaking his head regrettably as Morgana spoke her last words to him, turning her head away from him to let him know their conversation was over. He didn't care for it; she would come to realize what he was talking about when it was time for them to act. For now, he would allow her to cool off and reconsider things, while he himself started formulating a plan to infiltrate the Badlands without arousing unwanted suspicion. Or at least, too much of it. After all, the Badlands were a realm only dead men went into willingly. Fools and cowards did not survive half a day out there, nor did noble heroes and bright-eyed adventurers. Even some of the toughest men of his army were reluctant to go in, and that was why Xeno had not rallied a platoon to weed out the necromancer; no one was stupid enough to go looking for trouble in there. But if it was only Morgana and him, then perhaps they could weed them out without too much trouble.

By the time Xeno was done considering their courses of action, darkness had befallen them, though their journey was only a few hours shy from his palace. "Halt." He called to Morgana from behind, momentarily allowing his steed to speed up its pace to catch up to, and overtake her own brisk gait. He crossed her path a generous amount of feet away so as to avoid collision, but close enough that she couldn't walk past him without risking a loss of balance by her steed. He didn't exactly expect her to see him in the eye yet, but it was becoming increasingly dangerous for them to continue their journey as the night worn on. Plus, he himself was becoming more lethargic, his mind dulled by a lack of sleep; a result both of his increased workload and a heavy conscience, though he would tell none of it to the elven woman.

"We approach the limits of Karindo. Much further than this and we'll be in unfamiliar lands. I've lost a few good men who thought they could scout ahead during the night. Animalkind tails and fur sell for an increased price in the Badlands, it would seem. They were skinned alive. It's just the two of us, so even if we'd be able to take down most of these bandits, we'd definitely die after an extended chase. Let us take a rest for the night and continue once it is bright out, yes?" He said, scouting a bit ahead to find a suitable place for them to settle down in. He pulled out a torch from one of the bags on his horse's side and lit it, scaring off a handful of creatures that had been prowling near them, probably to prey on them once they stopped moving. It was only a few minutes before he would find a suitable clearing and slid off his horse, starting to unpack a tent and some firewood he had prepared in advance.

Not a man to waste time with something as petty as smacking two rocks together to create fire, Xeno quickly made a campfire by tossing the wood together and bathing it in oil, putting his torch to the soaked twigs and logs. Fire sprung up instantly and lit up a good distance beyond them, allowing them to at least have a moment of reprieve in this small spot, away from the dangers that were looming around them and that were surely waiting for them ahead. "You must be cold. Go ahead and warm up. I'll set up the tent. I apologize in advance, but it hardly compares to my bed back in the palace..." He was a bit too tired to really make a witty remark about it, but his voice was still teasing as he went to work on the tent. Sometime during, he'd produce a few pieces of beef jerky, offering them to the elven princess. "Didn't have much of a chance to get good food. I'll give you a banquet when we get back, though."

After a while, the tent, the pillows and the blankets were all set down for proper use. The king admired his work for only a moment before turning to his horse and grabbing a flask of water, taking a sip from it before offering it to Morgana, sitting down next to her to watch the fire for a moment. "It's ready, though I'm afraid there's only one. We'll have to share it." He beckoned her to join him by tilting his head toward the tent as he stood up and began to remove his garments from his body. He slipped into the tent without a word, tossing the armor and leather aside as he slipped into the makeshift bed he had made for the two of them, wearing nothing but his underpants underneath the blankets. He didn't say a word to Morgana after that, letting her decide whether she would join him or not. He waited only for a few moments before sleep overtook him, his head leaning to the right as consciousness left him.
 
His ignorance had left her teeming, but not a word escaped her as they journeyed South. The stars whispered to the sky in their lonely glow, Morgana gazing upon them every so often. Her horse seemed to glance back at her as well, worried by the cauldron of ruin it now carried on its back. She wasn’t sure if she was more bothered by his ignorance about magic, or her. The Princess had not dwelled over another’s perception of her in a long while. Since the moment of her birth, the eyes of the world became her only witness. There was no use brooding over those who scorned her. All her life she’d been ridiculed for savoring the one piece of existence she had left. And yet, when it was him who scorned her, her chest would tighten. The presence of her heart became loud, screaming and tearing into her insides with harrowing agony. There were many things she wished she could tell him.

Elves were not as glorious of a race as the world saw them to be. They were unsympathetic, ethno-centric knowledge seekers. Like Dragons, they hid their spoils with little care for the matters of those who did not affect them. Rafiya was a kingdom that valued masterfulness alone, and would do so for an eternity. War would rise and kingdoms would perish, but the Elves would not lift a finger. Morgana rejected the ways of her people more than anyone, but… they were undoubtedly wise. Elves were born into the world with the understanding that all life held value. Magic was one in the same with the air they breathed. Magic was every tangible inch of the universe. Magic was the furnace that gifted them with that life. It existed as both creation and destruction.

How could he not see that? How, could he not see her?

It’s true she hadn’t been the most fair when casting judgement, either. Even villains had their reasons. As far as he was concerned, she was an Elf that shared the same lack of empathy as the rest of her race. And even still, he presented her with such welcoming and gifts.

“I think he may just be my worst suitor, yet.” She mumbled to her horse, leaning forward to brush through its mane. Her horse exhaled in contentment, simply enjoying the attention of its rider. Had it been her decision, she would’ve ridden her horse bareback. But it really wasn’t worth the tantrum she might’ve evoked from the Beast.

“Halt.” Xeno barked out from behind. Morgana slowed her pace on command- only to be overtaken by him blocking her path. He certainly didn’t trust her, that was for sure. Not that he should, anyway.

"We approach the limits of Karindo. Much further than this and we'll be in unfamiliar lands. I've lost a few good men who thought they could scout ahead during the night. Animalkind tails and fur sell for an increased price in the Badlands, it would seem. They were skinned alive. It's just the two of us, so even if we'd be able to take down most of these bandits, we'd definitely die after an extended chase. Let us take a rest for the night and continue once it is bright out, yes?"

Speak for yourself, she thought snidely. Running was something she was very good at. If it came down to it- she could outrun a few bandits. She’d had plenty of practice trying to overtake the guards of the Rafiyan borders. Besides, she wasn’t too keen from getting off her horse. For the last several miles she could sense quite a few parasites that had been waiting for them to stop. They were carnivorous little things, and possessed a very unpleasant, venomous bite. She would know. Thorn, her father, was distastefully fond of the critters. He dubbed them as his pets, importing them from the deserts to the lower dungeons of Rafiya. Upon return from a three-day excursion away from the palace, her father had her locked in a cell ridden with his pets. You may leave, when only one of you remains. Without weapons, she’d resulted to more grisly means. She could still recall the taste of their entrails.


Nevertheless, she observed the Beast as he ignited a torch- pushing forward in search of a clearing. Not a few moments later, any threat on the ground had scurried far past their reach. It was a comfort to know they were afraid of fire. If only she’d known that sooner.

Folding her arms over her steed’s neck, her weary eyes naturally flit towards the hive of her thoughts- watching as he slipped off his horse and retrieved a bundle of firewood from his pack. It was oddly soothing to follow the gait of his walk, and the flex of his arms as he worked to set up camp. She considered offering her help, but he didn’t appear like he’d be too pleased to accept it. They were enemies, at heart. A demon and a beast at each other’s throats for vastly different reasons. As he lustfully prowled, she orchestrated her vengeance. They were a helpless pair. Reality as they knew it, was slowly disintegrating until the bowels of Hell stole the ground beneath them. Time was waning, the tide rolling in the sands of their onrushing end. If things continued as they did, she would never get the chance to break free of her shackles. She wouldn’t get to reclaim her throne, or change the course of her people’s toxic ways. She would never truly, truly free her sisters. All her fighting would have been for naught. If they were to succeed, she had to work with the enemy. Regardless of the consequences that would unfold at the epilogue of their quest.

"You must be cold. Go ahead and warm up. I'll set up the tent. I apologize in advance, but it hardly compares to my bed back in the palace..."

Heeding his advice, she swung off her horse and joined him at their little campground. The warmth drew her in, persuading her to spread her legs by the fire. The blaze crackled and feasted on the dry logs, swaying and twisting into the sky. Her fingers yearned to join the dialogue between flames, inviting them to the tips of her nails to trace patterns into the air. She’d grown so enervated from their incessant bickering that she’d forgotten to abstain from such activities in front of him. Her hand jolted out of the fire pit, her eyes frantically hunting for his presence. He had been busy rustling with the tent, unlikely to have seen anything out of the ordinary. Nights in the Badlands were unkind, the cold extending its icy reach to bury its teeth beneath her clothes. It was a pain to resist her only source of heat. Sleeping over the hot coals sounded like a godsend at the time, compared to sharing a cot with him.

Somewhere between pitching up the tent, he’d offered her some scraps of preserved meat. "Didn't have much of a chance to get good food. I'll give you a banquet when we get back, though."

Gingerly, she accepted them- happy to get the taste of parasites out of her mouth. Memories could be a real bitch, sometimes. “Food is food.” She responded to him blandly, biting into a chunk and ripping it apart with her teeth. It wasn’t half bad, though she could do better. It made her wonder if he’d made it himself, or if he’d had the kitchen prepare it for him. The thought provoked a little smile to form at the edges of her lips. She could have been stuck with someone more sheltered, and cruel. Like her father. But Xeno was generous as he was acquisitive. Sharing food meant a great deal to her. For some time they shared their meal in silence, until the Beast left to retire. She rose from the dirt to follow in suit, giving a quick look to her horse. Morgana put a hand to its muzzle, sighing in apology.

“I promise to find you some food once we reach the city.” She didn’t like the fact she’d eaten in front of the horse without feeding it. “You don’t have to stay up like this. You should rest.” She insisted, stroking its neck. The horse snorted and clacked his front hoof, as if to protest. It didn’t trust its surroundings. “I’m a light sleeper. Nothing’s going to happen while you’re out.” She assured him. After some convincing, her horse plunked down to rest, folding its legs underneath its large body. Morgana then neared the tent, contemplating how she would share her sleeping arrangements with the man inside. Sleeping with her gear on wasn’t the best move. It was more likely to retain cold rather than warmth. If she slept on the far end of the cot, the Beast was unlikely to discover anything he shouldn’t. Stripping down to her undergarments, she placed her clothing beside his before entering the tent. Her underwear was surprisingly the more revealing one of the pair, made of thin cotton. It hiked up her backside, but wasn’t particularly uncomfortable. Her bodice, on the other hand, was a sleeveless linen slip. It was opaque enough to conceal her breasts, loose, and gave her plenty of room to breathe.

Careful not to disturb the sleeping wolf, she slipped under the blankets on the opposite side of him. Her goal was to create as much space as possible, lying on her side with her back to him. Her mind had been raging for the last two days without repose, grinding over the slew of obstacles that’d invaded her life. Her overly analytic mindset had exhausted her, especially since the brawl in the throne room. She’d learned the stance of his nobles in court, studied the behavior of his supporters, identified his motives, and even uncovered one of his weaknesses. Watching the irritated twitch of his ears brought her immense satisfaction.

As her breathing began to soften, her dark lashes drifted together- sealing her eyes shut. Her muscles slackened, her mind unwinding from the nightmares that haunted her days. Sleep was a solace she rarely enjoyed, often on full alert to ward off those who’d dare to attack her at night. Her spent body could no longer remain awake, sinking her conscience into a cloud of tranquil ease. All but her natural instincts had been smothered into shut-down. Her flesh suffered and craved company, seeking the fluffy warmth that lied on the opposite side of the bed. Morgana’s tail was first to disobey, slithering beneath the covers and coiling around the leg of her nearest heat-source. Here, it notified her body, urging it to roll over and envelop the closest part of him she could reach. Her hands felt for something soft, and warm. It beckoned her arms to ensnare, what felt like, a bundle of fur. Her body hunched over, curling to take the base of the wolf’s tail between her knees. All the while her arms drew the fuzzy appendage between her unbound breasts. She looked as if she were hugging something dear to her, her cheek nestled against the tip of his tail. Warm, she thought serenely, the edge of her own tail swaying every so often as it remained attached to his calf.
 
Xeno's mind was addled with thoughts of war, a beast much greater than him that had taken hold of him at some point he no longer remembered. Whether it was for the sake of glory or his people, he no longer knew the difference. Even now, images of his men being torn apart by pale, undead monstrosities flashed in his mind, making him stir restlessly in the bed. He would groan from time to time as those images slowly turned into memories of children and women being slaughtered as their villages were pillaged. He remembered himself watching impassionately as his men took the women that struck their fancy and did with them as they liked, only to kill them once they've broken them. He'd never encouraged such revolting actions by his men, but they were bloodthirsty, lust-driven beasts and he knew so. To ask them to repress their desires like that would have been nothing short of asking for mutiny. So he had chosen to be known as the Beast King, a man who brought ruin in his wake.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually rested at night. He would twist and turn and groan as memories of his crimes haunted him, afflicted him not with guilt, but a restlessness that he couldn't put a lid on. Maybe, he thought, maybe one more battle will make these thoughts go away. Maybe he just hadn't fought someone worthy and that was why he was haunted by regret. Maybe it hadn't been worth it just yet, but if he could just feel the rush of blood that came with not knowing if he would emerge victorious, he might actually feel alive again. It's what drove him forward, even as he took on the mantle of a monster the world would rather see dead. Even as the woman he would be sharing his bed with was undoubtedly plotting to kill him.

His eyes fluttered open as he heard a rustling near him, his senses on full alert just in case she was planning on doing something while he was in a vulnerable state. His ears pulled back slightly as he heard the sound of clothes falling to the ground, followed by her prim, bare feet approaching him. There was no apparent maliciousness that he could sense in her walk, something that he'd become proficient in noticing after his rise to the throne. She wouldn't have been the first femme fatale that would try something in bed together, though she'd certainly be the first one to try something before they spent a night of pleasure together. It didn't seem like she was dumb enough to put him down the same way as she had back in the throne room. Xeno's lips shifted slightly into a small smile as the woman settled down beside him, her back to his. At least they'd both have company tonight, even if it was in the form of two sworn enemies.

Just having her presence near him was enough to relax the man into a sense of safety, as foolish as it was for him to do so. His tail twisted about for a few minutes, getting rid of whatever excess energy he'd conjured up in that moment before furling up into a small coil as he felt himself drifting off into the realm of sleep, only barely hearing the woman shift about before he was taken into darkness himself. If she were to kill him, this might've been her best bet. Instead, the man felt something slithering about under the sheets. A snake, his mind hypothesized absentmindedly, though his body didn't react as the unfamiliar thing wormed its way up his leg, taking hold of him in a gentle embrace. It wasn't a snake but something more... gentle-like. It wasn't looking to harm, at least. Rather, it seemed to desire his touch.

Next, he heard the princess roll over behind him, pulling closer to him. His ears twitched in a sort of confusion as they instinctually pulled back when they felt something grip his tail, uncoiling it completely as it rolled about, trying to feel out what had just taken hold of him. Her softness felt heavenly against him as his tail eventually relaxed in her embrace, the tip of it caressing her cheek gently before resting on her neck. Realizing there was no danger to be felt in her actions, he rolled over in response, his tail still held tight in her embrace. An arm slid under her, holding her waist and pulling her closer to him, so that he could feel her warmth. Even under the sheets, the cold of the night still sent shivers down his spine, so her small body's warmth was welcome to him. His other hand wrapped around her head, fingers running through her scalp as they explored the black threads of her hair. They would meet with some resistance at one point in the form of bone-like protrusions. His mind naturally became curious of them, allowing his fingertips to touch them, stroke the small anomalies. As they did, the man pressed his own cheek against Morgana's, his tail shifting to work as a sort of pillow for her. His breath, hot and relaxed, crashed against her ear as he nuzzled her cheek and allowed himself to drift into a deeper sleep as his body found this arrangement to be favorable.

For the first time in a long time, Xeno's dreams weren't filled with the cries of those he had condemned to death, nor did he taste his blood mixed with the blood of the enemies he'd slain. He didn't move from Morgana's body in the slightest during the night and his breathing was relaxed, not ragged, as he was instead welcomed into a dreamless sleep. Funnily enough, this enemy woman's presence made him more relaxed than a servant woman's embrace ever could.

He was first to awaken as the first rays of sunlight penetrated their tent, a single one hitting his face. His eyes fluttered to an open slowly as he groaned in annoyance, never too pleased to have his rest interrupted. He was greeted with the sight of Morgana's face next to his, so close he could practically feel his lips on hers. A smirk immediately crept his lips as he came to the realization that they had, in a way, spent their first night together, not as enemies, but as husband and wife. And by the way she was holding his tail so dearly, he could surmise that it had been her that initiated such an embrace, practically encouraging him to respond in kind. "Foolish girl," he breathed softly, more like a sigh than actual words. He wouldn't move for a long while, happy to just watch her serene sleeping face until the moment she'd wake up.

"... Just how starved for affection are you?"
 
Dreams and nightmares blend between the desires and fears buried beneath the artifice of reality. They mingle and twist, intermixing with one another until the dreamscape becomes a hellish playground. Sleep was an unpleasant consciousness for her. It was a leaking cauldron of emotions and heedless wishes. And once she were to awaken, should she be foolish enough to pursue these lucid fantasies, she’d perish. But the night brought nothing but a black, empty canvas- speckled with stars. A cloud of gentle fur caressed her cheek, and a rugged warmth drew her in by the waist. It was a blaze that prickled across her hips, up her neck, and all the way down to her toes. She never wanted to leave this peaceful embrace, a sigh escaping her florid lips as she felt subtle fingers stroke through her hair. This touch she so blindly indulged, grew explorative as they grazed the black protrusions from her head. Her heartbeat spiked into a sporadic rhythm, her lips parting as her eyebrows furrowed.

“Xeno.” She murmured senselessly. Moaning, as his fingers fondled the shape of her horns. Her breath was heavy, her limbs tightening around the furry captive between her arms.

“Mm…” Feels good, she thought, before submerging back into her dreamless escape. Though her mind was far off, wading in an endless sea, her heart was awake. Her skin was alive, fully cognizant of the man that held her in his arms. She could feel his eyelashes brushing her cheek. She could feel his breath, hot against her face. Her body couldn’t be more aware of the desire that drew her into his grasp. It was different from seeking warmth, or companionship. There was an innate tenderness in his actions that beguiled her beyond her senses. He was not like the world she had come to know. The world was a crushing, endless stream of rejection. A creature like her didn’t belong in this world. And yet, he was like the sun. Bright, and inviting. There was no judgment, or lust in his touch. Just a gentle, nurturing warmth.

Light was the first to shake her from sanctuary, dancing across her translucent eyelids. Thick, black lashes fluttered open to reveal the green pyres locked behind. She blinked a couple of times, her vision still lost as her consciousness whittled back into place. Morgana slowly became aware of the arms that kept her captive in an iron grip. His touch was too familiar, searing into her flesh like a brand. She lied in the clutches of The Beast King, a deadly, feral noble.

The wayward placement of her tail was located, wrapped around this wild animal. A torrent of panic seeped into her system. A myriad of worries rocketed through her mind, pleading for release. Her chastity. Her reputation. The two were teetering on the edge of a cliff as the stakes began to unfold. There was a bristling hatred for the peace she had yielded to moments ago. How could she let her guard down in the presence of that beast? But the more troubling matter, was that her secrets were on full display- pouring out into his menacing palms. His perception of her could threaten the fate of her Reign. Should he decide to advertise her true form, Rafiya would divide into a civil war. The nations of the world would decree a manhunt for her head. Worst of all, this could threaten the partnership they so direly needed to complete their quest. He could attempt to sell her. Torture her. Ruin her.

An inkling of steady flame had kept her vigilant from sudden movement. Until a pair of eyes had her feverish. They were a mixture of earth and liquid gold, dark and beautiful- setting her in a blaze. Nobles were packs of wolves. Trained killers and liars, obscured by pretty promises and politics. And yet she looked into his eyes and saw none of this. Amber eddied into thawing ardor. She beheld the epitome of a mortal being, in turn warming her icy soul. It was a heinous risk to trust in a field of bloodshed. The air between them stilled, her breath halted, her chest tight. Her stomach twisted in delicious suspense as his nose brushed with hers. He means no harm, her body registered, warning its owner.

“W-What.. Hmn… W-Would you..! Why?” Broken pleas stumbled from her mouth- too shaken to form a proper thought. What is he doing? Would he let go? Why was he looking at her like that?

“L-Let go.” She stammered, a dusting of rose sweeping over her cheeks. Her hands tightened around her pillow as if it were a weapon, capable of defending her against this beast. As her nails buried into the fur, her eyes cast down to the subject of her vice-like hold. Blood simmered and exploded into petals of shock across her features, her hands darting to release the so-called pillow. She had been holding his tail. Morgana was mortified. Unable to find the nerve to justify her actions, her eyes scrunched shut. Her hands were soon to follow, splayed across her face to shield her agonizing embarrassment. She groaned into her palms angrily, resisting the urge to flail her legs frantically.

It took her a good few moments to regain her wits, allowing her frustration to fester into something more lethal. Her tail recoiled, her body jerking and shifting to overthrow his monstrous weight onto his back. Her thighs moved to straddle his hips, intending to prohibit him from making any moves to throw her off. Finally, her hands clasped around his throat- her long nails clawing into his skin.

“If you ever even think about touching me like that again- I will slit your throat with my bare hands.” She growled between clenched teeth, remnants of her blush still staining her feral expression.
 
Xeno noticed the grip on his leg hadn't loosened one bit throughout the night and he'd reached to feel it slightly. It was leathery in texture, yet thinner than a snake and much softer. As his fingers explored it, he came to realize they were getting closer, ever closer, to her. A tail, he thought to himself as he kept himself from touching the very base of it, if only to save himself from the moody girl's wrath. He'd also felt what seemed like horns on her head, the sensation very alive in his fingertips. He'd dreamt of her sweet voice as it moaned his name, dreamed of what it would be like to feel her touch upon his skin. Their little embrace together would not be forgotten for many nights. He would certainly think back on it and allow himself to fantasize on what could have transpired instead. Perhaps he had wasted a chance to break her then and there, but using force to get what he wanted had long lost its appeal. Now, he would rather turn that seering look of hatred in her eyes into an amorous gaze. He would rather have her kneel to him by her own accord than steal her bravery by the power of his fist.

He'd retrieve his arm from her waist when she start showing signs of waking up, instead slipping it under his head to use it as an extra pillow. He smirked at her as he watched her face contort from that peaceful expression of hers into something more wracked with anger, hatred and, most importantly, confusion. The woman was a prickly one, happier to throw curses at the man than admit her own satisfaction at their night together, but that only made him more entertained at the prospect of having her as his companion. He'd spent enough time with women that would adore him only for his strength to appreciate a woman who didn't simply spread her legs as soon as she knew who he was. She was dignified enough to deny deriving any pleasure from the stimulation he'd given her, even if it was obvious to him.

He was silent as the woman struggled to find reason in their embrace. Quietly he watched her, his gaze steady on her, allowing her to act as she liked. But he would not ridicule or make jipes at her. When she struggled to ask a proper question, he simply gazed into her eyes. Because you're a woman, and I'm a man, he had longed for her warmth just as much as she had longed for his, even if neither were ready to admit it. Xeno was, however, more in tune with his own instincts, happy to accept them, as twisted and inhumane as they were. And his instincts in that moment hadn't been to take the vulnerable, fertile woman next to him, but to protect a girl who didn't even know she needed protection. Protection not from others, but from herself and her own twisted ideals. He didn't even understand why she needed such protection, but the animal side of him seemed to think this was the case.

“L-Let go.”

"I'm not holding you anymore," he muttered as he showed his hands to be free of her, pointing to her vice grip on his furry appendage. It wiggled helplessly as the woman choked it in frustration and it took Xeno a bit of effort to not wince as shocks of pain shot up from his spine to his brain. As much as he found her brattiness to be cute, he wasn't too fond of the abuse she was putting on his tail. It was, after all, a very intimate part of his body that he wouldn't allow just any wench to touch, and she had grabbed it without his consent. Even if he hadn't complained about it, it still translated to an insult on her part. Or rather than an insult, a lack of respect toward him. He was relieved when she did decide to let go, pulling it back behind him immediately. It wormed about for a bit, numb from having being held in place all night, before settling down.

The next turn of events happened before he could even react. He only did blink when her hands rested upon his neck... feeling a sharp pain as her sharp nails dug into his skin, threatening to crush his windpipe that very instant, should he make the wrong move. But more importantly, her waist was rested on his and his hormones were reacting quite positively. His brain must've mistaken this tense moment for something equally as tense, because there was a tent in his underpants as his hips wiggled against hers playfully, as if to show the woman just how happy his body was to have her in this position. He feasted his eyes on her body for a moment before looking up at her, his eyes meeting with hers. Canines showed themselves as he smirked up at her, largely unfazed by her threat.

"It was you who touched me first, princess. Are you such a child that you would ignore this willfully?" His hands reached up to grab the back of her hands, driving them to hold him even tighter. He could feel as he was quickly depraved of oxygen, though he did not flinch, as he pushed her to hold him tighter, tighter still until her nails dug so deep into his skin that blood trickled. Nothing major and he would heal quickly regardless, but her hands would certainly stain of his blood. He stared up defiantly at her, his smirk unshaking even as he felt something warm dirty his tanned skin.

Just as quickly as she had turned the tables on him, he reached up for her hips and in turn threw her off him, his body looming over hers. He didn't use his weight on her, however, instead baring his fangs at her throat. He nipped at her pale skin just slightly, his hands holding her wrists to the ground. "If I wanted, I would violate you and then kill you. I've no need for a child who doesn't even know what she wants. If you're going to kill me, then do it. Don't think that your threats will somehow stop me from taking you against your will if I so wish to." He pulled her hands together, using one hand to hold her down as his other one slipped down and grabbed at her underwear, fiddling with it for a moment, pulling it down just slightly before letting go. For just a moment, he felt the thrill of the hunt as his blood warmed at the prospect of raping her right then and there, as well as the smell of his own blood drifting into his nostrils. He had to calm himself down, pulling away from her as soon as he felt himself becoming more and more aroused. He was a man, not a beast. He would never become the beast that they thought him to be. He would never shed blood he didn't think was necessary for the world he envisioned.

Xeno left the woman there, standing and dressing himself up before slipping out of the tent. He had a bit of business he'd have to take care of after there tense little exchange and he didn't think it very tasteful to do it in front of her. Plus, was pretty sure he'd heard a stream running nearby and he needed to clean off the blood if they were to avoid raising suspicion once they went to the border.

It would be several minutes before he returned to their small camp, holding a handful of fruits in his hands as he came back to see Morgana lounging about. After showing her the fruits momentarily, he tossed them to her. "For your horse. You told it you would give it food when we reached town, right? It'll be a while before we reach our destination and I don't plan on making stops, so feed it now." Xeno went to tend to his own horse, offering the gelding the few fruits that he hadn't given to Morgana. Although he was not quite as gentle as the woman with his animals, he knew well enough that a fed horse ran better than a hungry one. After making sure it was no longer hungry, he turned to the princess. "There's a stream not far from here. If you had any intentions of bathing, or just needed to fill up your flask, I recommend you do it now. Oh, and take my horse with you. It's thirsty."

He wiggled his ears, shaking off the remnants of water from them as he took to pulling down the tent, as well as making sure to leave no trace of their short stay in this small haven. It would do them no good if some bandits caught wind of them. "Hurry up. We'll leave as soon as you come back. We've wasted enough time."
 
If there was one thing she must remind herself of, and remind herself strongly, it’s that she is not a woman. A woman conspires with darkness as she pleases, and travels the world rather than carrying it. She is a country. She is Rafiya. No burst of passion or silently offered promises could protect her nation. Herself. Her people. She was a royal bound to her country. Not a woman, bound to her impulses. No matter whose clutches she writhed in- it would not change the fact that she was to be Queen. Whether her heart wanted it or not. The heart remains as a useless, beating vessel to a ruler. No one would ever hear the sound of its aching unrest. It was a dull pain she’d inhibit for an eternity, so long as the Beast was still alive. As her claws tightened around his throat, her breath clipped short. The familiarity of his rough hands singed against her wrists. Go on, his gaze goaded, kill me. First blood pricked and oozed past her fingernails, trickling down his neck in thick, viscous lines. Behind plush lips, she was salivating at the sight. Morgana was now acutely aware of every point of contact between them. She felt a solid, large presence throbbing at the apex of her thigh. It snagged her into salacious urges, raising a fire in her core. She wanted his body. His blood, his soul- all that he had to offer. The need was crushing, lighting her bones to burn in an unbearable heat. The darker shades of jade fled from her irises, replaced by a sinister glow. Her pupils narrowed into slits, reminiscent of the devil’s eyes. Visions of his mangled flesh danced in her sanguinary stare.

Just as she were to dig in further, her back connected with the ground. He’d reversed their roles, his hands that once submit to her desires- now pinning her to the floor. Fangs meant for gnawing, rather than piercing, had sunken into the soft patch beneath her ear. Her spine arched, her tail curled, and a pleasured grunt barely escaped her.

“ If you're going to kill me, then do it. Don't think that your threats will somehow stop me from taking you against your will if I so wish to.”

Seas of cerulean opal swirled and raged from underneath a curtain of flirting lashes. Then do it, her orbs dared him. A crease formed between her brows, her cheekbones blushing and lifted as his hand strayed towards her underwear. The fabric was being pulled from her hips, a sharp inhale coursing through the back of her throat. And then his touch left her cold. He stood, dressing himself and briskly walking east from the camp. Morgana scowled at the empty tent, her fangs receding into more conventional canines. Her body was aware that her meal had left her, taking a walk to sort out irrelevant emotions and unsolved lust. The invisible scars tracing her exterior expanded into vengeful thorns, digging into a chamber of primal hunger. Pain and desire spun a beautiful web to consume her conscience, rolling it into a grave. She was about to hunt him, dressing and exiting the tent in a hurry until she met with the steed standing faithfully outside. Her conscience wormed its way back into her brain whilst the horse greeted her bitterly.

‘Light sleeper, huh?’ It seemed to jeer, giving her a look of discontent.

Embarrassment also made its return, tying her tongue and reviving the cold vessel in her chest. Thump.

“Hush! We’ve made it through the night. That’s enough.” She groused. She sounded as though she were trying to convince herself more than the horse. The crawling scavengers had fled their territory, but the pest of her bloodlust remained. Some part of her had to remain in check. They wouldn’t make it through the day if she allowed her demons free-reign. Her best bet was staying close to her horse; and far away from the Beast. To her dread, and insufferable delight, he returned. He was a sight to behold while wet, the droplets of moisture clinging to his hardened jaw and dripping onto the ripples of his abdomen. A fine specimen, indeed. Her slitted pupils were hungrily watching him, her canines extending once more to savor her prey. She’d been so distracted, she hardly noticed the handful of fruit he was tossing her way. Had she been in her right mind, she would have barely caught them. But her body had a mind of its own, reacting to catch the food in record time.

Morgana held an apple out to her horse, stroking his mane as she continued to guzzle the sight of the Beast from the corner of her eyes. “It, has a name, you know. Chara. It means freedom, in our language.” She spoke in an even cadence, eerily smooth. Chara was a great distraction from her growing hunger. It roiled in her gut, restless as it demanded sating. Images of Xeno’s lifeless corpse were wracking her head. It was strange. She did not desire torture, or desperation like the others. When it came to the Beast, she couldn’t help but skip to the main course. A wicked soul painted red. Nothing could be more mouthwatering. After feeding her horse, she signaled the other to follow her as she turned in the direction of the stream.

“I’ll be bathing in the stream, if you need me. What a shame you aren’t joining me…” She sighed with a crooked grin upon her lips. “I guess wolves really are afraid of us things that go bump in the night.” Morgana snickered, disappearing into the trees. She hadn’t taken too long, making sure to water the horses and scrub her skin underneath her clothing. Even in heat, the demoness wasn’t keen on bathing in the nude. Although, as a result, she’d returned to the campgrounds entirely soaked. Her long hair was dripping, sticking to her skin. All the while, her leather garments clung to her flesh. Water was slithering between the peaks of her breasts, down from her neck and collarbone. The moisture helped to combat the heat of the oncoming desert- and, gain the attention of her elusive meal.

“Shall we?” She proposed, leaning against her horse. Her tail was still out, swaying impatiently, while her horns remained exposed at the crown of her head. Morgana did not care to hide them, her hunger too burdensome on her body.
 
“It, has a name, you know. Chara. It means freedom, in our language.”

"Cute." Xeno dug his teeth into the single apple he'd saved for himself, his other hand occupied with holding the fruits up to his own horse's mouth, paying little attention to the woman beside him as she tended to her steed. Their dynamic was one he couldn't get a grip on, and it drove him wild. Often men and women he dealed with looked for one thing from him, and only one. She was, however, madness incarnate. Whether it was his affection driven from an abandoned childhood, a release from her lustful urges as their bodies practically merged with one another, or murder as a way to gain her freedom, this woman would not give him the advantage of knowing which it was that she wanted the most. Her body language was mixed at best, while her voice, though sweet and dignified, trickled with the beginnings of both hatred toward him and a desire he couldn't ignore. His tail wagged around restlessly, every hair on it standing on edge as it tried to feel out the elven princess' reactions. "But that animal is bound to you, far from free. And it does not desire freedom, or it would have kicked your skull in the moment you tried to mount it. Was it irony you were aiming for when you named it?"

Xeno's ears were next to answer to the woman's strange change of demeanor. They fluttered slightly as the woman seemed to try to entice him. If the man wasn't painfully aware of her hatred for him, he might've happily taken such words to be an invitation for a salacious joining of their bodies, but his instincts were too sharp to fall for such an obvious trap. Not hours ago, she had her nails to his jugular, threatening to kill the man out of spite for something she had started, and yet now she was trying to play coy with him, to seduce some kind of reaction from him? The wolfman pulled his ears back for a moment as he watched her go, cursing his better judgment for keeping him from following after the woman. He watched the woman go, her hips swaying side to side as she left a tempting scent behind her. "The things I would do to that woman..." He growled to himself, busying himself with getting everything ready for their departure. He sighed, a bothersome tension between his legs once more.

It took a great amount of discipline to stay right there once he had finished putting down the tent, a bored mind wandering if he could just sneak a peek of the woman's hourglass figure as she bathed. He could've done it, and part of him was sure she would've liked it if he did, but he quickly reminded himself of the promise he'd made the woman. She will bare herself for me, he told himself as his tail swayed restlessly. There would be no satisfaction in cheating; what he wanted was not her body, but her submission. Well... he wanted her body, and he would be no less glad to have it sooner rather than later, but there was a lot more at stake in their little game of tag than just the fulfillment of his lustful wishes. He reminded himself of this as Morgana came back to their little spot, soaked still. His eyes studied her closely, reveling in the small show she gave the man as her garments stuck to her skin, leaving little to the Beast King's imagination. Behind his lips, he licked his fangs, back-and-forth as a lump of saliva stuck to the top of his throat, forcing him to gulp.

Down, boy, he thought to himself as he stood up from his sitting position, having been playing with the remains of the fire they'd put up the night before. He walked up to the woman, every hair on his body standing in attention as his instincts screamed danger at him. Mixed with desire, this primal fear that his body felt was the most blissful of sensations the man had ever felt, second only to the thrill of killing dozens upon dozens of men with his bare hands. He wrapped his arm around her hip when he reached her, pulling her waist to his, his hand reaching, and catching, her swaying tail. "Is it okay for you to have this in full display? I would rather you only show this side to me, and no one else..." A thumb rubbed against the top of the leathery appendage, his other hand grabbing her chin between his thumb and index. "You better not cause me any trouble once we're at the border. Let's go." As soon as the words departed from his lips, he pushed her away, back to her horse and turned his back to her as he climbed onto his own stallion, kicking it to a steady pace as he left her behind.

Though his thoughts were in disarray before, feeling the wind upon his face, his hair, was enough to dispel whatever intruding and bothersome ideas would brew in his brain, mindful to keep a good distance from Morgana as they made their way to their destination. Not once would he look back to make sure she was following, the click and eventual crunch of her steed's feet behind him enough to let him know of her presence. And even if that wasn't enough, he could feel her searing gaze as it both undressed him and killed him countless times. It was an uncomfortable feeling, knowing her desire for his body went both ways, but he didn't find a need to remain on such thoughts for very long as his eyes set sight on a pair of approaching men.

"Hail," he called to the men, a pair of rugged and scarred men. One's eye was stitched shut, probably because he'd lost it in a drunken barfight, while the other wore a multitude of other scars. Both men were obviously used to dealing with undesirable types, evidenced by their constant scowl as they refused to answer his greeting. The corner of his lip twitched. Good, no pleasantries. He'd grown tired of dealing with nobles back in his country that he'd forgotten the animosity that bandits often had for one another, looking for ways to stab each other in the back while keeping theirs safe. This was indeed his kind of place.

"Are you lost, wolfman? This is as far as you go before you enter the Badlands. It's not a place for you or that woman over there would be happy to enter." The one-eyed man uttered as the other circled around them, practically shutting down any attempt at an escape. They were probably planning a shakedown if the pair somehow showed a sign of weakness. At best, they would end up with half the gold they were holding at the moment.

"We're aware of the dangerous nature of these lands. My... wife and I, you'll find, are more than brave enough to be here, don't worry." Xeno retorted, baring his fangs as he grinned at the man.

The white shine of his teeth seemed ominous enough to keep the man from questioning him further, turning his attention to the dark-haired elf instead. "Wife, hm? A pretty thing like you can't possibly be with this man here, can she? Did he, perhaps, steal you from some noble? We could save you from him... for a price."
 
She reveled in his gaze just as she reveled in his touch, slowly ravaging her body with one sweep of his glistening stare. His eyes were like wildfire. Golden embers dripping with predatory desire. The mere attention he granted her was invigorating, confounding, and chaotic. The coals of her black, tender heart sparked and fluttered. Rampant wings feathered against her insides, exploding into daydreams of her dear companion splattered in her ardor. He’d look godly, smeared in bright viscous red. Her throat ached, her blood boiled, and a fire was stirring between her legs. Morgana craved the fantasy of his pained grunts coloring the air, as her nails carved into his bones. She wanted to taste the blood oozing from his punctured flesh, running her tongue across tattered meat and tangled veins. A pleasured sigh parted her lips as his hand clasped her hip, raking her into his brutish grasp. Her horns were throbbing, her tail wiggling about incessantly. Yes, closer… She thought- until lightening struck. The calloused palms she knew so well, were now gripping her tail. Her knees locked and wobbled, her hand flying to her mouth if only to stop any lecherous noise from escaping.

“Ah!” She squeaked out past her trembling hand, her eyes rolling as his thumb stroked the spade of her tail. An incurable wetness was dribbling down her inner thighs, beneath layers of drenched leather. She’d hardly noticed the impact of his shove, as she simply dropped to the ground. Her legs had given out, only her arms holding her above the dust and sand. “Mnmh.” She whimpered meekly, her nails digging into the earth. More, her body demanded, unsatisfied. It was maddening.

The promise of vengeance peeled her from the ground and onto her horse, her arms draping around her horse’s neck as she laid across the saddle. Morgana could almost sense the roll of Chara’s eyes as he began to trot some ways behind Xeno. It had not been the wisest decision to leave her tail swaying about, as it functioned as one of her greatest weaknesses. Especially in the hands of… the Beast. It was an appendage she often kept hidden. But during heat, concealing her horns and tail became a tricky task. Her primal instincts raged against concealment, her body burdened by pain as the onyx body parts receded into her supple exterior. Nonetheless, she now laid across her horse appearing as more of a woman- than a devil.

Heat was a simplistic term to define the needs of demon-kind. Just as animals went through heat in their mating season, demons had their own form of compulsory needs. Demons are not creatures of creation. They have no desire to procreate. But, they do desire destruction: the creation and spread of chaos. In order to alleviate the heat, Morgana was left to feed in one of three ways. Suffering, to torment her prey. Blood, the liquor of life to be drained from her prey. Or Death, to kill and consume her prey’s soul. It was a gory, unpleasant business to be had. The Elven parts of her carried a mass of guilt for the needs she relished in appeasing. For her resistance, her body would toil and burn.

The demonic parts of her, however, were seething with hunger. It was perfectly quaint that her prey trotted up ahead- so very close to her clutches. How to lure him? She thought, adjusting to sit upright in her saddle. One way or another, she would have to get closer to him. Intimidation, provocation, nor even seduction would draw the Beast in. She required a mutual closeness with the creature. While the Elvish portion of her heart rejected the idea strongly- her darkness was not above growing close to obtain her prize.

“It wasn’t ironic, Xeno.” Morgana chimed, from close behind- attempting to spur conversation. “Chara knows very well that he is not bound to me. He is free to do as he pleases.” She continued, a late reply to his earlier thoughts. “He is my familiar- in an equal partnership. And, if he decided to leave, I would simply enlist another familiar.” Her hand reached out to stroke Chara’s neck. “Not that I wouldn’t miss him terribly, though. He’s far more charming than you, Beast.” The jibe was teasing, a playful grin upon her lips. Though the lighthearted air was short-lived.

Two men approached them in the distance, Xeno raising his voice to greet them. Morgana raised an eyebrow at his attempt at pleasantries, feeling Chara’s muscles stiffen beneath her. She could spot an adversary from a mile away. Yet the beast could not be that naïve. Perhaps he wished to cross without causing a stir. The lack of engagement did not sit well with her, desire roiling in her gut to evoke certain mischief and chaos. The two bandits would make a fast meal, and an easy one at that. Morgana’s patience was growing thin, her pupils dilating into fine slits. She could make quick work of them. The first, she could puncture his veiny throat. The second, she could cut open. Her mouth was watering as she fantasized about the possibilities, whilst Xeno conducted idle conversation with the two.

“We're aware of the dangerous nature of these lands. My... wife and I, you'll find, are more than brave enough to be here, don't worry.”

She found most of the drabble a bore, until one word snapped her heart out of its steady pace. My wife. It brought a waterfall of emotions rushing into her brain, the heat dissipating into a blur. Her cheeks were warm, her chest taut. She was well aware the notion was a façade to drive off any suspicion. Even Morgana, as a woman, had her own desires beyond bloodlust or duty. The thought of being his partner somehow pleased her. And it terrified her.

“Wife, hm? A pretty thing like you can't possibly be with this man here, can she? Did he, perhaps, steal you from some noble? We could save you from him... for a price.”

The stranger’s offer cut Morgana away from her little world of thought. She was frustrated and plagued with an unholy hunger. Unable to banish the inklings of ardor forming in her heart. It would be easier to focus on their partnership. On their goal to enter the Badlands, find the Necromancer, and end whatever hell was about to break loose. Somewhere along the way she could silence these strange feelings. Whether she had to end his pitiful, war-mongering life, or stop the world from tearing asunder.

Right now, she knew that Xeno did not want any blood to be spilt. And, these men had high intentions to rob them- and likely sell her. Or worse, use her.

“Or..” Morgana’s soft, pink lips curled into a wicked display. She slid off her horse, sashaying towards the one-eyed cretin. Just under her breath she whispered in a language, twisted and rusted in ancient roots- too old to understand. The man’s horse kicked back onto its hind hooves, throwing the low-life to the ground. She fell quiet as she splayed out her palm to hover just above his head. His eyes rolled, the veins in his neck pulsed against his flesh in branch-like patterns. His head seemed to be anchored by invisible strings, hold his body upright, and being pulled by Morgana’s dainty fingers.

“I could let you leave with your lives…” She spoke to the other man sweetly, as his comrade began to scream. His voice was cracking and breaking to a limit he could not find, hurling out noises that belonged to something more sinister than that of a petty mortal. “For a price.” She winked, closing her palm, whilst the one-eyed man dropped limply to the ground with a vicious shiver.

Morgana retreated back towards Xeno’s horse, gently brushing Chara’s forehead in passing. She simply stood beside Xeno, symbolically handing the reins into his grasp. He could decide their fate. Although, she was fairly certain the two scoundrels would wish to run at this point. For a moment, she’d wondered if she would scare Xeno off in the process. Though the memory of his touch, fondly stroking her horns, eased her worry.
 
Xeno knew that if he allowed himself to be seduced by this woman, that he would regret it. Yet her voice, which had only been defiant and venomous toward him so far, was practically begging him to ravage her, to take that alleged purity of hers and show her how wrong she was to fight him. A hot breath left him, his nose twitching when the scent of her arousal inevitably reached him and he turned to look at the woman, meeting her needy, pitiful gaze. He knew the look on her face as that of a woman left unsatisfied, of a bitch wanting more. He had half of a mind to turn around and fulfilling her wish, stealing her of her garments and taking her right then and there, yet he knew that she was simply weaving a trap for him. The moment he took her bait, he was dead. His mind wandered to the tales of succubi, woman-like demons who would lure men with the promise of fulfilling their darkest desires, only to strip them of their life the moment said desires had been met, leading them to gruesome ends. He'd always thought them myths, but the elven princess made him rethink his beliefs, if only for a moment.

By the time Morgana would speak up again, Xeno had managed to get his thoughts back in order, his will of mind refreshed and the woman's earlier invitations forgotten. Oftentimes he was ridiculed for his whimsical nature, jumping from one thing to the other, but it was at times like this, when his resolution was shaken, that he could simply remind himself of his goal and it was as if he was a new man, unfettered by the useless thoughts Morgana would bring about.

“It wasn’t ironic, Xeno.”

The Beast King let out a sigh, perhaps as a sign of frustration at the woman's continued attempts at striking conversation with him. By now, his patience had waned dangerously low; it was only natural that he would become less communicative after constant attempts at his life. Even if he admired her boldness, or foolishness, it was her indecisiveness that truly struck a chord in him, thinning his patience with each failure to do as she had promised him. He bowed his head just a bit, a moment of thought as he gave Morgana his ear, at the very least. It wouldn't be fair to arbitrarily dismiss her, anyway. "Childish," he breathed, a grunt leaving him as he considered her words seriously. Elves were like humans, more attuned to technology and magic than they were to nature. For an elf to speak to an animalkind about such things was preposterous. "That animal of yours is weaker than you. How could it possibly be equal to you? What it needs isn't someone who will treat it as an equal, but a leader. Such a weak-willed philosophy."

He sighed at her jibe and shook his head, unamused. "I'm hardly concerned with being charming to you. I've had bar wenches that are twice as pleasant as you."

Xeno's instinct alerted him of the shift in Morgana's demeanor before he even had a chance to turn to check on her as the one-eyed bandit went to talk to her, his wretched breath reaching even him from that distance. Though annoyed at the man's suggestion to Morgana, he was unconcerned with the actual answer she would give him, knowing that regardless of her answer, his goal would remain the same. If she refused the offer, they would either try to take her by force or back off. If it was the first option, he would kill them both. If she accepted it, then they would attack him, in which case... he would kill them both, and possibly the princess if she tried to put up a fight. It would have been regrettably, but he couldn't afford to be distracted by such sentiments. However, her actual answer was something he couldn't have expected.

His heart skipped a beat as the elven princess didn't just refuse the man's offer, but jumped down from her horse and, with an unholy incantation, knocked the man of his own ride. Xeno's hairs stood on end, a feeling of repulsion falling over him as his instincts noticed something inhuman, indescribable, being invoked by the words he couldn't comprehend. Every fiber in him told him it was unwise to relate himself to this woman, which was only further reaffirmed as the man who'd thrown implicative eyes at his woman suffered from some change he couldn't accurately describe. He couldn't help but be drawn into such a dangerous possibility, however.

It was only when the dark-haired woman approached him that he caught himself staring at her back, eager to see what more she would do. He licked chapped lips and gulped, trying to reason that he was simply thirsty from the heat as he struggled to find words for a second. "Kill them." He said as he slipped down from his own steed, an arm wrapping around her waist as he pulled her to him. His eyes were narrowed, a hunger in them as he stared into her own, cerulean orbs.

"You want it, don't you? You want to see their faces as terror as they're faced with their own bloody, painful deaths. You want to taste their blood. You want to kill," Xeno's lips curved into a wicked, despicable grin, his eyes staring down at the woman's soft, plush lips. "I know that look in your eyes. Either kill them..." His hand wandered from her waist, down to one of her buttocks, squeezing a handful of soft flesh in his palm.

"... or kill me. Go on."
 
It was an unfortunate case. Both the Princess, and Xeno’s patience, were wearing thin. Her chances of getting close to him had worn away, as had her composure. During their ride into the desert sea, he’d made it very clear he was not interested in conversing with her. Let alone looking at her. Between them, the air tasted of fear, waning desire, and looming regret. A small portion of her wondered what could have been, in their lonely little tent. Her ponderings did not last very long, as Xeno unmounted his horse. She’d expected him to run, maybe. But a very small whisper in her heart begged to see the same man that had held her throughout the night. Even, in the presence of her sinister body. The same, prickly warmth slid around her waist, his arm holding her tightly to his chest. Her face grew pink, her eyes wide. As two, sweet words left his feral mouth.

“Kill them.”

It was a rapturous melody, something entirely new and exquisite. Lovely, threaded with red sash and grisly tenderness. The utterance embodied the sensation of his rough hands against her skin. Her chest shuddered, quivering from the erratic thumping of her heart. Time thinned into the balmy air, ripping virgin desires from her breath. He offered himself on a sacrificial plane of arid stone. Above the festering hatred eating at her insides, existed a deadly growth. Its poisonous roots pierced her soul and drew her closer to the Beast. Her enemy, her destruction, was standing in a glorious halo of sunlight. Naturally, she should strike him down. It had been her number one prerogative for the last several years. And yet, she was hesitating over a mere gesture.

“... or kill me.”

She found it horribly romantic. Here, in the middle of the desert, they were just a man and a woman. A man, offering his very soul to a demon. A woman, less of a demon in his arms. For the first time, she was tempted to fall.

Danger. Danger. Danger. Her mind hissed. With a racing heart, and her blood hurdling south- pooling into her abdomen- she untangled herself from the Beast’s paws. Cautious, slender fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. Her simmering green eyes never left his fervent stare as she unsheathed the blade. Morgana’s fangs bit into her lower lip, her feet carrying her backwards with tempered steps. Darkness crept amongst the shadows of her brain, overtaking her mind like a subtle mist, and shoving her into the pit of her sinful yearning. Her gaze cut sideways to bandit, still frozen on his horse. The soft petals of her lips stretched across her gleaming teeth, smiling unto the stranger as she twirled the blade once-over in her palm. The man’s heels dug into his horse, urging the animal to flee from the disastrous scene. The horse did not move, to his horror, as he kicked his steed’s stomach with more force. With one swing of the blade, she’d severed the two cinch buckles that secured the saddle- the mount sliding off the animal’s back and throwing its rider to the ground.

“Go.” She said to the horse, cutting its partner loose from his saddle, and watching them cantor off. The one-eyed bandit that she’d handled prior, was lying unconscious a few feet away, whilst the other attempted to crawl to his feet.

“Not you.” She laughed, the sound reminiscent of silver bells. Morgana slammed a boot to center of his ribs to halt his squirming, leaning downward to hover just above his head. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent now permeating the atmosphere. “You smell of fear.” She grinned, pointing the sword at the edge of his shoulder blade. “What is it you fear, hm?” She inquired softly, pushing the tip of the sword into his flesh. The man scrambled and hollered. “Oh, is it pain?” She gasped concernedly, pulling the blade out. His relieved grunt vibrated through his spine and up the sole of her boot.

“You know…” She whispered, her eyes wandering towards the Beast who so vehemently watched her. “I quite like pain.”

Her hand tightened around the hilt, slowly sliding the blade to cut through muscle and flesh- widening the gash she’d left in his shoulder. Screams colored the air, red oozing out onto the sand and dirt. Her feline eyes narrowed as they returned to survey the damage. She angled the sword, using her foot as an anchor while she sawed through his torso in careful patterns. Crimson splurged and splattered around the blade, drenching her hands and tainting the edges of her face. The human writhed beneath her, making it difficult to avoid his vitals. Her patience was waning, withdrawing the sword from his back, and flipping it to ram the hilt into his left ribcage. The bones cracked, giving way, and her boot nudged him over on his side where she could easily access the breach. It was then, that she rammed her fist through his tender chest, and clasped her fingers around his heart. She could feel his pulse slow within her palm. Her nails dug into outer tissue, plush against her grip as she ripped it from the cords of his arteries. Morgana was displeased with her quick work of the sword, and the mediocre organ she’d retrieved from his corpse.

The heart fell from her palm, her hands busied by handling Xeno’s sword. She did not have cloth to soak up the blood from the metal, but instead used her mouth. She ran the back of the blade against her tongue, collecting as beads of scarlet decorated her lips and dribbled down her chin. Her tongue swiped over her lips, carrying the sword in her right hand to return to its rightful owner. After a few lithe steps, the magnetic pull drew her back against him- her chest gently pressing into his torso as she slid the sword back into the sheathe at his hip. The one-eyed human had finally come-to, his sounds of horror at the display becoming a thunderous hum of background noise. It sparked her adrenaline, daring her to face the Beast with the windows to her soul. Whorls of wicked green and impassioned sapphire connected with his amber hearth, the tips of her toes flexing and rising to give her height. Her lips just barely brushed his, her red-painted nails scraping against his chest- desperate to reach him. Her composure was crumbling, her desires shifting between two different breeds of hunger. Labored breaths sapped the energy from her bones, her body succumbing to the tipping scales of her needs. Her breasts grazed down his torso as she lowered to her knees, her eyes captive to his sight. From his boot, she unveiled a concealed machete, claiming it for more of her gruesome deeds. Inspecting the weapon, she leaned back onto her heels- contemplating.

“Help! Devil!” The bandit cried out, limping Westward to escape her clutches. That just wouldn’t do. They couldn’t have a pesky human stirring up suspicion. She whipped around, machete in hand as she bounded against the sands. Her feet were quick, her body geared forward, her knees bending as she closed in on her target. Forward, she sprung from the ground, leaping to raise the machete in the air. Her thighs locked around his neck, sending him to topple forward- her hands plunging the blade into his skull. Morgana wrenched the weapon from his cranium, panting as she rose to her feet. Only as the two witnesses lay dead, did her horns emerge from silken black strands. Her tail slithered out, swaying contentedly in her hedonistic gait back towards the Beast. She offered the weapon, gingerly, as though she were handing him an olive branch.

“Husband.” She teased him, quirking an eyebrow at his earlier ruse. “Don’t you know it’s ill-fated to tempt a demon?” She sighed, exasperated as she folded her arms across her cleavage. Morgana knew now, very well, that her delusional desires were gaining ground. Hate was melding with lust, and something far more lethal. A force that could consume her very own, blackened heart. Reality was easing into her system, warning her to put space between her and the Beast. It was essential that the two made their way into the Badlands. There, she could settle into an inn. Separate rooms with space for her to think. A place for her to bury these strange, foreign feelings- and remember the dire situation at hand. And yet, even as the heat regressed back into its primal cave, her body was burning. There was a sticky wetness leaking from her core, her lungs starved of oxygen, and her pulse hammering as she laid eyes on the man before her. She tightened the space between her thighs, her arms pressing against her chest as if she could suppress her sensitivity. Get a grip, Morgana.
 
Xeno sighed, not out of frustration or annoyance, but out of a need to get this unbearable heat out of his body. His gaze did not falter from hers, his ambers staring down into her ceruleans, ravenous and unflinching in his pursuit of this woman. While he ambitioned to bed her, her own intentions were unclear to him and, he dared to guess, even to her. She was nothing but danger to him and yet he was addicted to her smell, the way she looked up at him in some mix of disgust, lust, hatred.

He didn't even flinch as he heard the unsheathing of his sword, his lifeline, by the hands of the demonic woman, her small, tender hand handling the blade with an expertness he wouldn't expect from an elf. She could've struck him down right at that moment, when he was most vulnerable and he wouldn't have even tried to fight back, yet she seemed to be more preocuppied with the men that had dared to tease her, to offer her freedom at a price when she could have it any time she wanted. More than that, she seemed more interested in giving him a show, as if this was some sort of sick act of love in his honor. Part of him wondered if this was just her venting out her frustrations onto these men because of her inability to kill him. Part of him knew that it must've been hard for her to accept herself, this disgraceful and bloodthirsty side of herself, when Xeno did not even blink an eye at the gruesome truth behind those cute little horns and her expressive, playful tail. Even now, she hid them as she made short work of the men in front of them.

“You know…”

Xeno gulped hard, his throat dry, and not from the heat of the desert, as the princess found herself torturing the man. As if to play off the fact that there was a very obvious and prominent hardness at the front of his pants, the beastman crossed his arms and chuckled, his white, pearly fangs gleaning off the sunlight.

“I quite like pain.”

"You really shouldn't play with your food..." Xeno clicked his tongue amusedly, his tail swirling against the sand as he watched the foolish bandit meet his untimely, or perhaps timely, end at the hands of the elven princess of Rafiya. His wife, in the man's mind. And perhaps, if she continued to please him like this, he would make such a lie a reality. No, there was no way he could ever let her be taken by another man, not after watching this. She would be a fearsome enemy to have, but much more so, no other man would let her run free the way she was meant to. She would be his by the time they made it back to his castle; that much he would promise.

She was much more beautiful when stained by blood, curiously enough, as if the very fact 0f being bathed in it brought out her real self, brought out her features, like a natural makeup. He watched her as she approached him once more, a wicked grin decorating his lips when her own lips were painted a vivid red. He didn't even care for his blade anymore, much more preoccupied by the tint her mouth took, the way her soft, modest breasts felt against his chest, how her lips looked so deliciously dangerous. He tilted his head to the side with knowing experience as she teased for the meeting of their lips, licking his lips as a residue of her saliva, mixed with blood, coated them. He pulled his head back, a satisfied, tempted groan leaving him as the woman slipped down to her knees, a vivacious look in her eyes as she got closer to the vulgar tent in his pants. His hands reached to cup either of her cheeks in his palms, his imagination venturing to the work her lips could do in a different time, in a different place. He bit down on the corner of his lip as he felt a certain weight be stolen from him. There was the smallest hint of disappointment in his gruff voice, sighing as Morgana left to kill off the second, remaining prey of hers.

The man would've been better off playing dead instead of idiotically crying out for help in the middle of the desert, leaving the couple to their hot little exchange, but he had to spoil Xeno's fun. Just as his mind was playing out the most pleasurable scene, too. Just like before, Xeno was pleased to watch the demon on the hunt, displaying her clear superiority to a common thug and doing so in the most graceful, bloody of manners. A dark place in his mind ventured to wonder if she would do the same to him. If she would skin him, play with him as she did with these men. If she could make him feel weak. But he knew... that he would never allow her to make him feel such dishonorable emotions. He took the machete as she offered it, producing a white handkerchief from his pants and cleaning off the blade. When he was sure there no residual blood, he threw the cloth away and cut his palm open, quickly pulling out a second cloth to drip his blood onto. He handed the bloody item to Morgana, scoffing to her little tease.

"Only if the demon falls for such temptation. I have nothing to fear in that case, right?" He turned his back to the woman now, fearing that they might fall into some risky back-and-forth if they continued talking much longer. They had a goal to fulfill and time was waning, even as they stood here, uselessly talking to each other. Xeno climbed back onto his black horse easily, shifting the horse back to the far-off city in the distance. "Regardless of that, we're husband and wife from here on, you hear? Our identities as royalty will only make gathering information much harder, not to mention that rumor travels fast from thug to thug. If we want to avoid being mugged at every turn of the street, we'll need to do as everyone in their city does and keep our mouths shut about important things." Xeno spurred the stallion on, kicking it off into a gallop as if to make up for lost time. As much as he had enjoyed the woman's naughty display, it had practically been a waste of time for the two when they could've easily killed the two men off in seconds.

It was a few hours before they made it to the city walls, although "walls" was a bit of a stretch. It was more like the skeleton of city walls, with countless gaps and cracks all across it. It was only its infamity as the home of crime that kept other countries from invading it, and now an undead army at its borders, constantly growing as more of his men were forced to join its ranks. With that thought in mind to encourage him, Xeno stole into the city, the so-called guards barely giving him the time of day as he walked past him. Anyone could walk in and out of the city; that was a known fact. However, the trouble would come when it was time for them to leave. Only those that could pay off the Bandit Queen's exorbitant 'tax' for leaving the city could go out and they would have to pay it every time. It was a small fortune to pay and none that Xeno had bothered to gather up, knowing full well that coming with such gold would only bring much more attention to them.

"Behave yourself from now on. I had a hunch earlier, but those bandits were just exiles from this city. No need to worry about having angered anyone, but that doesn't mean we should be careless about what we say." He whispered to Morgana, his eyes catching on some commotion in the town square.

"... Come. The easiest way to gather information where no one will give it out freely is by snooping around what's none of your business."
 
Two inner natures. Stark opposites, co-existing as analogs to the very foundation of the world. Good, and Evil. Chaos, and Peace. Forces that would contend inside her bloody vessel of a core for all of eternity. The war she’d been fighting had been in the outside world, safe from her own devices. Yet now, as the war carried on inside her heart- she was left to her own internal tools of damnation. Worse than guilt, or hatred, it would possess and consume until the precipice of insanity. Little did she know, of the forces of the heart- or how she could not live without them. Several feet ahead of her own galloping horse, rode the worst catalyst for her darkness. He was poison opium incarnate. Perilous, addictive, and maddening. With every glance of his absurdly attractive body, his eyes, his mouth- she was dragged under another high. But the real danger, was not the prospect of their physical carnage. It was something far less tangible, acquainted with the stars; and the moments between time. The small quirk of his lips. The flutter of her stomach. The way his pulse stuttered. And, the way they were undeniably magnetic.

Murder was easy to justify in this age, under the reign of a tumultuous princess. Some were for freedom. Some, to survive. Some for her appetite. But him? Xeno did not fall under the three. Since the moment they’d met, she knew she had to end him for the sake of her sanity. To keep her heart under wraps, to keep the blood running, to keep her crown- she would end him. It was easy to hate from afar. But the closer they became, the more lively, the more humane he became. She could not justify killing the Beast, unless is was a way for her to run away. She was running away. If a blade was too gruesome for her frail hands- then she would bring an arsenal of cyanide. If the poison wouldn’t take… then she’d settle in her grave by his side.

Think of him as a Beast. Think of him as a foe. Think of him as a friend destined for the gallows- but nothing more. She recited these words in her head like a mantra, focusing on Chara’s hooves railing against the sands. There were times when she came down from the Heat, and she couldn’t feel more mortal. When the blood was gone, and the dust settled, there was nothing left but her hollow soul. It wasn’t easy being a monster. It wasn’t easy being alone, taking lives like she took a breath of oxygen. There were times when it was difficult to breathe. When her throat would close up, her palette dry, her lungs withering into unbearable pain- it was a harrowing vortex of suffering. She hated herself for craving companionship. To love, was to be weak. And Goddess, did she hate weakness.

"Only if the demon falls for such temptation. I have nothing to fear in that case, right?"

“You have everything to fear.” She whispered to herself. “As do I.” Morgana took the dry air into her lungs, savoring the wind in her hair. The clarity was bound to hit her at some point. She could pretend she didn’t hear it, and shove it way, way down into the pits of hell.

She hadn’t come to her senses until the walls of the city were in view, Xeno leading them past the gate’s guards without a hitch. It only made sense for them to let fresh meat in. More people, more prisoners to pay the tax. It was a simple economy, in that respect. They treaded carefully through the streets, hauling up on a crowd. People were cheering, shouting, cursing. There was a plethora of emotions thriving amongst the commotion.

“Zote the Mighty has fallen! Once again, Grimm! Necromancer of the Colosseum! HAS PREVAILED!” A man was hollering at the center of the flock, appearing as a harbinger of news. “He is unbeaten, my friends! The time to scope out your champions, awaits! TOMORROW! Is the denomination of your CHAMPIONS!”

Morgana tilted her head in interest. It looked to be that the Colosseum was a flooding Casino. Surely, a block or two down, she could find a betting station for the matches. It was no wonder there was such a ruckus. The greybeard was practically a walking advertisement. A young boy piped up from beside his father, reaching out the greying man.

“Can I see the Necromancer too, Mister?”

The man scoffed, snorting at the boy.

“Child, no one sees Grimm outside that ring. Only in the final match, does her appear.”

“Then… where does he go when he’s not in the ring?”

The man huffed and snorted again.

“Hell if I know.”

The crowd began to disperse, small groups of people feathering out to discuss their plans for the following day. Morgana looked to Xeno, a knowing grin plastered across her face. “Only one way to meet him…” She whispered, nudging his shoulder. The bloodlust was already sparkling in her eyes, thrilled at the prospect of a competition of strength.

It was impossible to miss the pinnacle of the city, standing in an architectural feat of columns and pillars. She was half tempted to run, but kept her even pace. “You coming or what, Beastie?” Morgana called back to him, speed-walking down the main road with as much restraint as she could manage. The trek wasn’t very far, the Colosseum located at the heart of the city. A few men were chatting at the South Gate, next to a booth of sorts. They were of the burly variety, littered with a mishmash of skin tones and scars.

Her first instinct was to charge into their little band, but she could feel Xeno’s cynical aura creeping up on her- oozing the message ‘Don’t cause trouble’. Morgana fluffed her hair and composed her fair face, before strolling up to the group of three.

“Hi.” She offered a friendly smile to the men. “Could you direct me to the sign-up for the Colosseum? My Husband and I were looking to enter.” She’d assumed they’d be more amicable if she didn’t appear as a threat. Though it seemed to have an adverse effect to what she had been planning. One of the men in the middle, a bit of ginger scruff growing in on his chin, grumbled. The other two had rather amused looks on their faces- for reasons she could not imagine. Was there still blood on her face?

“Your Husband is welcome to give his lot, lass.” He said simply, gesturing to Xeno close behind.

Her brows furrowed at him, her arms moving to cross beneath her chest. “And where do we sign up?” She responded simply, hoping to see a ledger of names nearby.

The red-haired man wedged a cigar between his teeth as he spoke, giving off a certain gruffness. “Like I said, lass. He’s privy to a slot for tomorruh’.”

Morgana narrowed her eyes, taking a step forward. “I’m sorry. Where do I sign up-”

The dark-skinned male on the left, with a scar running across his crooked mouth, chortled lowly. “You don’t!”

It took her a moment to prevent her fangs from extending, her hands balling into fists at her sides. This is what happens when she tries to be nice. “So help me-!”

“Oh, she’s a rabid one! Would you believe a wife like that, lads?”

The Orc at her left was howling with laughter. Morgana snatched the knife from the Orc’s boot, slicing the ginger’s cigar close to his chum’s annoying mouth. She was making quite the habit of stealing weapons, lately. The laughter fell short, the ginger gaping at her with a mixture of shock and rage.

“I’m going to get in that tournament, or your lips are going to be clipped off.” She hissed at him. His Orc buddy was quick to react, grabbing her by the wrist and squeezing hard enough to alter her grip.

The dagger fell to the dust, and the Orc snarled at her. "Soft hands, you've got."

“You’re going to regret that, girl.” The Scotsman rumbled, spitting out the butt of his cigar. Or, whatever was left of it. “You’ll be in the match tomorrow.”

“How are you so sure?” She scoffed, ripping her arm from the Orc’s grip. His comment has definitely unsettled her. Soft hands. Ugh.

The third man finally chimed in, flashing a set of jagged teeth. “Because he organizes the matches.”

Morgana’s face flooded with color. Of course it had to be that guy. Just her stupid luck.

“Your name, girl?” He nodded to her. Morgana rubbed her wrist, taking a step backward in case the Orc decided to give her another grab.

“Morgana.” She replied dryly.

“And you, lad?” The Scotsman nodded towards her proclaimed husband.
 
“Zote the Mighty has fallen! Once again, Grimm! Necromancer of the Colosseum! HAS PREVAILED!”

"Oh...?" Xeno grabbed his chin, rubbing his scruff jawline thoughtfully. A colosseum? That was certainly something that caught his attention. His first decree as king had been to make a colosseum of his own in the capital, completely with a statue in his honor and named after him. It would've been the perfect way to distract himself of his duties as a king while still looking important enough to keep the citizens happy. It would've been the perfect way to shirk his responsibilities. Sadly, the reality was that creating a colosseum wasn't only a drain on the economy of his country, which was already struggling as it was, but it would take years for them to finish the work and even more money would have to be put in to have workers on it. When Xeno had suggested they used slave labor, the nobles had a field trip with him, pretty much spilling self-righteous one-liners and speeches they'd probably rehearsed at home several times before coming to bother him. It was only until his advisors suggested he played it off as a joke gone wrong that he was freed of that pain in the arse. And there was no way he'd be able to convince enough people to actually put the kingdom's budget into the thing.

In the end, he probably would've gotten bored of it after a few weeks, so that was a good thing.

“He is unbeaten, my friends! The time to scope out your champions, awaits! TOMORROW! Is the denomination of your CHAMPIONS!”

"We should look into signing up..." Still, it might be fun to take a shot at it. It had been a while since he had fought anyone in one-on-one combat outside his kingdom. Wars were unlike duels. Sure, both usually ended up with one side dead, traditionally the side that wasn't Xeno's, but there was a different thrill to fighting on equal terms with someone, facing them with a respect where both sides were willing to spill blood for victory. In war, he killed cowards who had not realized they'd gotten more than they'd bargained for until it was too late. He hoped the Colosseum fighters would be more courageous and willing to give him a gritty, ugly fight to the death that he wanted. And maybe he would get some extra pocket money to buy the woman beside him some nice clothes that complimented her figure better than the rags he'd tailored for her...

“Only one way to meet him…”

It was a nudge that brought him back to reality, his ears flickering slightly as the fog of his mind cleared and he was once again aware of his surroundings. Bad habit of his to let his mind wander off like that, especially in a place like this. He might as well get everything pickpocketed off him that way. "Mmm. Meet who...?" He breathed, turning his head to Morgana as she jumped off Chara and sauntered off to the apparent sign-up booth. "Oh, right. Necromancer." He followed after her, making sure to tie their horses up well enough that he wouldn't need to worry about them being stolen immediately. By the time he was done with that, Morgana was a good distance, almost as if trying to leave him behind.

“You coming or what, Beastie?”

"Yes, yes. Just enjoying the view..." He bit back sarcastically, his eyes glued to her hips as they swayed back and forth with both dignity and seductiveness, though he somehow felt like the only one who'd notice the latter part of that combination. Longer legs meant that it didn't take long for him to catch up to her, but he kept his distance behind Morgana, both for the sake of prolonging his 'sightseeing' and out of respect for the woman, allowing her to do the talking. Though Xeno was a king in name, he was rough around the edges, more accustomed to the tribal, primal life out in the wilderness and less so to the delicacies of society, unlike the elves.

“Could you direct me to the sign-up for the Colosseum? My Husband and I were looking to enter.” He was pleased to know she was quick on the uptake, no fuss at all at the ruse he'd worked up on the spot for them. Though thieves were still suspicious of each other and didn't look each other in the eye, at least the lie of them being married would let them fit in a bit.

“Your Husband is welcome to give his lot, lass.”

"Oh--..." Xeno shot the man a look-- not of approval or anger, but of warning. Having witnessed what the princess was capable of - cold-blooded murder - he knew better than to try and provoke such behavior on mere whim, but these men had not been laid witness of what could come of angering her. When his warning was ignored, the beastman simply averted his gaze, knowing better than to try and stand up for the elven woman; she wouldn't take kindly of it, calling it an attempt at 'babysitting' her, while the three men would simply scoff at him as a softy, a dog on a leash. In order to preserve his dignity, he looked around instead, making sure there were no troublesome witnesses to what was about to happen.

When Morgana found the Orc's knife (she really had a knack for finding hidden weapons, apparently), Xeno braced for the worst, already looking for an excuse and counting his coins to see how he would bribe a guard, but he was surprised to see that the dark-haired demon had self-restraint enough to not murder the men slighting her for their own amusement, whistling and chuckling his approval of her handling the situation. It wasn't the smoothest answer, but nothing was when dealing with lowlifes.

"Soft hands, you've got."

"Hands off, ugly. She's all mine." Xeno jumped in, tossing his arm around her waist and pulling her just the slightest bit closer to him. No way he was letting any other man have a taste of her, wife or not.

The Orc snarled at him, baring his ugly, jagged fangs at the Beast King. Xeno's animalistic instincts called for him to kill the man, the baring of canines the greatest insult a man could make to a Wolf-type animalkind as him, but as to reward Morgana's graceful response to the slights she'd done well to turn the other cheek to, he practiced self-restraint himself, something uncalled of from the king.

“And you, lad?”

He let go of Morgana, taking a step past her as he rubbed his chin between his index and thumb. "Noxe. Do we get to keep our weapons for the fights, or are we expected to use ones provided by the Colosseum?" He asked, grabbing at the hilt of the sword resting in its sheath, held tightly to his belt.

"Y'all newbie thugs tend to do funny stuff like poisoning your swords or using silver on your blades for doggies like you, so to give a fair fight to everyone, we provide the weapons." The ginger man commented dismissively, trying to figure out the proper spelling of Xeno's name before giving up and writing some similar-sounding aberration of it.

"That's a misconception about wolfish animalkind. Sure, silver gives us a nasty rash, but we're used to it from using poison ivy to clean--..."

The dark-skinned man interjected just before Xeno could finish his thought, "Nobody asked, Mr. Pup."

"Now, listen here..." Xeno growled, stomping the floor to bounce the dagger up in the air, catching it mid-air and thrusting it to the man's throat, stopping just short of stabbing through his jugular. "I only tolerate one person giving me nicknames, and it's my wife, so you better watch your mouth. All of you." And with that, Xeno thrust the dagger into a nearby post, beckoning Morgana to follow him as he walked away, leaving the men in a fouler mood than they had been before they'd been approached. Once they were back with their horses, he turned to look back at the elf, locking eyes with her for just a moment. "Good job dealing with those thugs. I don't know if you elves have to deal with that kind of scum in your kingdom, but just looking at them makes me want to hurl. Men like them kill, rape and ransack just for the fun of it. Surprised they didn't try to cop a feel." Though Xeno would've cut off some fingers if they had tried to in front of him. After holding his gaze at her for another second, he turned back to untie the horses from their posts, handing Morgana Chara's rope before turning his attention back to the street.

"Sleeping out in the street is out of the question, but I don't see any inns with stables around here. I suppose we're down to looking for now." He muttered as he began walking. It had been noon when they'd left their camp behind, having gone to sleep a few hours before the sun rose up the night before. By the time they'd reached the Badlands, and this city particularly, the sun was close to setting, an orange tint to the sky as they walked down the marketplace, Xeno on high alert. He could hear absolutely everything, and it was hard to not get overwhelmed, such that there were a few close calls with vermin and pickpockets trying to get frisky on him. He let them go without a fuss, his interest in finding an inn taking precedence. It quickly became evening by the time he'd found a proper place.

It was far enough from the town square that most thieves and thugs wouldn't bother coming around, but still not out of the way enough to be empty. A few customers lingered around, even after the sun had set, a handful of men, who he assumed to be honest workers, drinking off a hard day of labor. He'd let Morgana walk in first, opening the door for her, and the men looked over to her curiously, only to lose interest as soon as Xeno walked in, apparent that they were together. Whether it was because they didn't want trouble or because they figured they had no chance with him sticking around her, he didn't know, but he was more than happy to accept it. On the other hand, his eye spotted a young, red-haired woman serving drinks around the building. His tail swirled slightly in his own sense of curiosity, watching her for a moment as she worked and long enough to grab her attention. She smiled at him from a distance, which he answered with his own smirk, walking over to the counter, where the inn owner shot him a glare. Apparently he wasn't fond of men ogling his workers. Too bad.

"How much for two rooms?" Xeno asked, slamming his coin bag on the bar. The coins inside clinked attractively enough to make the moustached man forgive Xeno's unwelcome stares, because he stopped cleaning the glass and took a look inside, taking a handful of coins for himself.

"Four gold the night each. We also have one room with a big bed if you want to sleep together." The man suggested, looking over Xeno's shoulder to Morgana. Xeno looked behind himself as well, then over to the barmaid and back to the inn owner.

"Separate rooms will do. How much for the girl?" Xeno asked, his tail knocking against a chair. The man scoffed, not sure if he was amused or angered by the wolven man's directness. Either way, his answer wouldn't have been different.

"Not that kind of establishment, I'm afraid. Girl can sleep with whoever she wants, but keep it all to yourselves," he answered. Picking up the glass, he turned his attention away from Xeno. "There's a whorehouse down the street if you can't keep it in your pants. You're going to have to share washrooms, by the way. Your rooms are connected by it."

Xeno chuckled, taking the keys to their rooms as they were offered to him. "That's fine," he replied, turning to face Morgana and giving her the key to her room. Not that it made much difference who had which room. "Might come down for the girl later, though."

There was no answer after that, leaving Xeno and Morgana to figure out their rooming arrangements to themselves. Xeno's stomach grumbled before he could get a word in, though.

"... Want to grab a bite before we go to sleep?" He asked to Morgana, swiping his coin bag from the counter and picking a few coins from it before giving them to the woman. "Should be enough to buy you anything in the menu. Keep your own money for your own spending. Think of it as pocket money for joining me on my trip here."
 
Her face did not show it- though the remnants of the Orc’s grasp had left her a little shaken. She normally did not welcome the skin-to-skin contact of a man’s touch. She’d hardly experienced it at all until Xeno ripped open her dress in front of the entire court of Karindo. Morgana huffed, her nerves taut with anxiety. The sting on her wrist triggered some unwanted memories. They were moments of time she’d staunched in enough blood to sink to the bottom of the ocean. However, the flames of Calanmai were strong in her mind. The flower-woven dais enveloped her skirts and bare feet. She could taste the rage bubbling on her tongue, and Lord Akash looming close by to lure her into a dance. Moisture was burning under her lashes, and Akash’s brother was lying bloodless in the woods. She had almost been violated that night, under the premise of replenishing the magic of the realm along with the rest of the Clan. Dallying about the Calanmai inferno was a treasured tradition. Her father’s favorite Sabbath. And her worst nightmare.

“Hands off, ugly. She's all mine.”

Morgana blinked, the fog over her mind receding into the depths of her subconscious. The thorns left in the stranger’s wake were smoothed over by his large palm, sliding over her bare stomach and reeling her in by the waist. Xeno kept her close, away from the clutches of the hostile men. It was inexplicable. How his touch immediately soothed her body into a tranquil hum. For the moment, she simply sank into his hold- ignoring the voices of outrage stirring in her head. She reveled in her quivering heart, and the fire rising in her belly. Whilst her responsible conscience toiled with the looming consequences, a pleasured pang ripped through her core at his words. She’s all mine.

All his. The notion comforted her more than she thought possible.

The Beast’s claws left her skin, temptation flaring through the cord of her spine. The dark spots of her pupils dilated, her emerald pyres swelling with a thirsty glow. The bloodthirst was palpable, roiling off his towering form. It ignited her dwindling symptoms of Heat, rushing them to the surface.

Not too long ago, she recalled her analysis of the King in his throne room. He was enemy of brute force, unbridled, and untamable. It was a riveting sight, watching as he shook the ground and refined his wrath through the thrust of a dagger. The point fell just short of tearing through the man’s jugular. A scowl pulled at her lips. What a shame.

“I only tolerate one person giving me nicknames, and it's my wife, so you better watch your mouth.”

A thrill shot through her, more powerful than the spilling of gore could grant her. There was something that pleased her about being an exception to the Beast’s wild ways, all whilst he fought to maintain control. It was horribly gratifying, the pleasure dissipating as quickly as it’d appeared. The Beast impaled the dagger into a wooden post, beckoning her to follow in suit as he stalked off. She was quick to regain pace with him, trailing at his side. Once they’d reached the horses, he focused on untying the reins. She could tell his temper had nearly gotten the best of him. And although it was unwise- she wished it had. Morgana sighed, placing a hand to Chara’s side in short greeting.

You’re riled up, Chara’s hoof dragged across the dirt in curiosity.

Don’t remind me, she sighed, dropping her hand from his hide and turning her attention towards the Beast. He was staring at her interestingly.

“Good job dealing with those thugs. I don't know if you elves have to deal with that kind of scum in your kingdom, but just looking at them makes me want to hurl.”

She was taken off-guard by his sudden praise, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. She’d nearly forgotten that the Beast was capable of being nice. A smile perked up her lips at the thought.

“I’ve had worse.” She said sparingly, careful not to give too much away. Morgana was donning a bright, toothy smile- mostly to avoid further conversation- but it was not totally a lie. She was still grateful for Xeno’s protection, both physically… and from her own devices.

“Men like them kill, rape and ransack just for the fun of it. Surprised they didn't try to cop a feel.”

The raven-haired girl folded her arms, tilting her head forward. “I wouldn’t have let that happen, Xeno.” Her eyes finally met his, on-edge, and eager to avert elsewhere. “No man has ever laid hands on me prior to you.” She divulged quietly, her hands absently rubbing her reddened wrist. “At least, no one has lived to try- anyway.”

She accepted Chara’s reins silently and joined him in their quest to find lodging. Her admittance had successfully staved off any further mention of the topic, thankfully. Instead their focus remained on booking an inn before the sunlight drained from the streets. The Night grew into a vengeful foe in the presence of thieves and ruffians. None were so kind to alert the law once the moon was risen. It existed as silent decree, that any crime was unseen under the cloak of the night. Multiple times, they’d run across a stroke of bad luck- just barely scraping by without conflict. It had taken the entire day to track down a decent establishment, located on the outskirts of town. It was a tactful location, away from the majority of the troublemakers, and just close enough to a brothel to keep any lurkers busy.

They left their horses in the connecting stables, and headed inside the main entrance. It was a classic outline, the main space occupied by an open tavern- and the upper floors housing guest rooms. The majority of the residents were human, and looked to be honest-working people. She could feel eyes of interest on both her and Xeno as they entered. Figures. She fought a scoff, burrowed in her throat. A black-haired elf was of interest to any mortal male. As for Xeno, however, she could understand the appeal. An attractive wolfman. Burly, strong, wild. She couldn’t imagine anyone that wouldn’t take to him. Well, except maybe Teref. She was more into the lean and gallant type of man. She sneered internally. No wonder the Fae was apart of her Father’s untitled harem.

The Beast had gone off to barter for their rooms, while she perched herself upon the edge of an empty table. The exchange between him and the barmaid had not escaped her, but she was far too exhausted to care. She found it absurd that men had to pay for their women. Elves were often thought to be polyamorous, though it was a misconstrued belief. They were simply… very open to their sexuality. Many of her kind would dally as they pleased- though it was a different story to those who were mated. Mates were a rare occurrence in these times, though. Any elf would laugh at the prospect of compensation for sex. Then again, that part of their culture had subjected her to lots of unwanted attention.

Whomever the Beast slept with was none of her business. Her gaze wandered the room, across a table of human men, the red-headed barmaid, a lone orc, and a lively table near the fire pit. A halfling, a human, and an animal-kind. They were in a rather heated game of cards, causing the animal-kind’s rabbit-like ears to twitch. Bunnies weren’t particularly her type… but she’d be lying if she said the ears didn’t interest her. The human was covered in fascinating smudges of dark ink across his skin, leading her to wonder if Xeno had any of his own. The halfling matched the human, with similarly tattooed skin and long blond hair. A trait that she unfortunately missed in the Elven gene-pool.

"... Want to grab a bite before we go to sleep?"

The grumble of the Beast’s stomach drew back her attention, his invitation half-hearted at best. No doubt he’d prefer to spend his time with the red-headed human, flashing suggestive looks at him just about every five seconds. It left a sour taste in her mouth, if she were being honest. His presence was poisonous, and thus the separate rooms were needed. And yet still, her body ached for some semblance of closeness to him. Surely it was a side-effect of the heat. Accepting the coins he offered her, as well as the key to her room, she contemplated her options.

“I’ll pass. Hunger can be quite the motivator in a fight. If you know what I mean.” Morgana’s lips quirked at the edges, returning the currency he’d given to her. All except one gold coin. “Besides, I’m not exactly the type to go on ridiculous shopping sprees.” Her fingers splayed out onto her hip. Her left index finger tapped against the seam of her leather trousers.

“All I need,” she raised a coin between her fingers for him to see, “is this.” It was an effort for her to bite back her excitement, her eyes sliding to the group of men gambling by the fire. “I’m a bit nocturnal, so I may be awhile…” Morgana hopped off the table and drew closer to him, propping a hand on his shoulder to reach his ear.

“But, if you do end up with company…” Her lips brushed his jaw, her fingers wandering to graze down his chest. “She’s a yeller. So gag her or something, will you?” She left him with those words, sashaying at a leisurely pace towards the far end of the tavern. It was rather tempting to continue their little meeting, her abdomen throbbing with a torturous warmth- but any more contact with him was out of the question. He was a damnable catalyst to her lust, and she’d promised herself space.

Morgana leaned over the open chair at the table, smiling to the other occupants graciously. “Hello, gentlemen.”

The halfling was first to peek up from his cards, his soft blue eyes appraising her slowly, before speaking. “Can we help you?”

“I was wondering…” Her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly pouted as she slid a coin onto the table. “If there was any way I could be dealt in?”

The halfling looked to the human cautiously, the rabbit-eared man yet to look up from his hand. The human began to speak. “Well, if Jynx here is alright with it…” The two looked to the rabbit, one of his ears folding forward in annoyance.

“The watchdog that accompanies you…?” His dark eyes did not deviate from the table. They were careful of the trouble that may come of associating with her. How cute.

“A bodyguard. Nothing more.” She answered him with the wave of her hand. With this, his grey eyes flickered up at her, down to her chest, and then back down to his cards.

“Very well.” He admitted, nudging the seat open with his boot. She sat down gleefully, her knees slightly angled towards the rabbit while she faced the halfling next to her.

“So, is Jynx really his name?” She waggled her eyebrows questioningly, earning a laugh from her neighbor.

“Yes, but it is ironic. He seems to jinx every game so that he wins.” He chuckled, reshuffling the deck of cards between his palms. “I’m Soren, by the way. And that’s Baelfor.” His blue eyes were quite pretty, twinkling as he spoke to her amiably.

“And you are?” Baelfor, the human, piped up with mild interest.

“Morgana.” She accepted her cards from Soren, glancing at the first three cards facing upright on the table. They seemed to be a fairly harmless bunch, though strong. She wouldn’t be surprised to find out this was a habit of theirs- drinking and gambling after a long day’s work.

“Pretty name.” Jynx spoke, his storm grey eyes fixated on her. He seemed much more interested in her than he had a moment ago. Not that she minded. He was very pleasant to look at. “I thought I saw you on the ledger.” He tilted his head, his ears flexing outward in a sort of charming way.

“You’re the elf that gave the Magistrate trouble?” Baelfor nearly dropped his cards, shocked. Soren was looking at her with wide eyes. Jynx, however, just seemed amused.

“Goddess, word travels fast.” Morgana groaned, placing her cards flat on the table. “Yes, I’m the one and only.” She threw up her hands, admitting to her crime in a playful manner.

Soren glanced at his cards, and looked over to Baelfor. “You seemed surprised.”

“Yeah, I mean- she doesn’t seem like the type to hold a weapon. You know? She’s just so… feminine.” Baelfor mumbled into his drink.

“You’re a bad judge of warriors, Baelfor.” Jynx stated, watching Soren flip the next two cards face-up. “She’s clearly suited to throwing knives…” He paused, glancing over at her. “Or perhaps dual-wielding short swords.”

Morgana stirred in her seat, feeling her cheeks burn. “Um, yeah.” She responded inelegantly, playing with the ends of her hair.

Soren clapped her on the back, making her jolt slightly in surprise. “Don’t mind him. Jynx is the local weapon shoppe owner. He does this to everyone.”

Morgana gave a short nod and returned to her hand. The first round was an easy victory, though Jynx proved to be a difficult opponent. His poker face was immaculate. And although she’d garnered enough of the pot to bet, she was sparing with her winnings. By the twelfth round, the heavy atmosphere had lessened (albeit with the help of some alcohol) and the lot of them were laughing over petty jokes. Jynx had finally had enough of their struggle, dropping a total of fifteen gold into the pot. Morgana complied with the raise, unhappy to put the bulk of her winnings at risk. But the subtle tension in his right ear had her convinced he was bluffing. Soren and Baelfor would fold, leaving the two competitive players to battle it out.

Jynx wore a dastardly smirk, confident he could force her out of the round. By the end of it, Soren and Baelfor were howling. She’d won with a full-house, and enough gold to fill a small pouch. Jynx didn’t seem too displeased, still wearing the same flirtatious grin.

“Well done.” He commended her, dropping the fabric pouch of coin into her lap.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jynx get called on a bluff! This girl is gold.” Soren cackled, Baelfor offering some utterance of amusement before standing to refill his mug.

“I’d better head to sleep.” Morgana stood with the pouch in her hand, tucking in her chair.

“You should stop by my shop, sometime. I’m sure I have something that would suit your needs.” Jynx purred from his chair.

“Maybe I will. If I don’t get eaten by some monster in the Colosseum, first.” She joked, winking at the rabbit and turning swiftly towards the steps. She could her his soft laughter, and his gaze on her back as she tapped up the stairwell and down the hallway. Rummaging through her pockets, she retrieved her room key and jostled the lock before getting the stiff doorknob to turn. Once the door gave way, she quickly locked it behind her, desperate to jump into a hot shower. The heat between her thighs was now unbearable, with Xeno to pester her or not.

Tossing her coin pouch on the nightstand, she struggled to shimmy out of her pants, and remove her top. The top was the worst of the outfit. It was horribly constricting to her breasts. It was nearly as unpleasant as a corset, though it managed to smush her cleavage into a garment two cup sizes too small. She couldn’t blame the tailors of the clothes if they misjudged her dimensions. Her choices of clothing rarely made it easy to guess. Though there was little excuse for the red line where her trousers once rested. She grumbled as she fought with the fabric, finally pulling it free and grabbing one of the inn’s towels off her bedside. She’d wrapped it about her a bit loosely and uneven, too occupied with the promise of hot running water. Throwing the washroom door open- she was shocked to hear the sound of a running faucet. And, to spy a certain wolfman under it. She yelped, her face flooding red as she slammed the door shut. How long had he been in there? The inn didn’t run endless hot water to the shower, and certainly not during a cold desert night.

“Xeno!” She hollered through the door, her fangs extending to scrape her tongue. “I need the hot water, and you’ve had your turn. So leave!” She growled. Anger boiled in her veins, urging her to toss the door back open again. She hardly understood the source of her vexation. Perhaps it was her own temptation. Or the earlier dalliance with the barmaid. But worst of all was her demonic nature, it’s spiked tendrils wracking her brain and body into submission. As if to say, Let me out. Her tail was itching to be released from the confines of her flesh, her feet shifting unnaturally to offset the sensation ravaging her lower abdomen. It took a hell of a lot of effort not to ogle whatever the steam did not cover on the Beast’s body.

With one hand on her towel, the other reached out to push on his chest. “Out, Beast. I have my own needs to tend to.” She hissed, her pupils contracting into devilish slits. A clear symptom of the heat. She cursed him for his knack at horrible timing, and the way he caused her inner demon to flare. She was doing her best to keep it under control, but Xeno’s presence was making it rather difficult. The force of her hand made her footing slip, tripping her forward and causing the grip on her towel to alter. The edges of her breasts were peeking out, the towel tapering from her sternum and just barely covering her pink nipples. She’d fallen into his chest just barely, flustered as she attempted to collect herself. A gasp fell from her lips, her fingers fumbling to clutch her towel. She’d never been so clumsy in her life. Nor exposed.

“Please, Xeno.” She huffed, her eyes glued to the wall in embarrassment.
 
“I’ll pass. Hunger can be quite the motivator in a fight. If you know what I mean.”



"Shame." Xeno muttered, though his expression was anything but regretful at being turned down. Whether she was being serious or coy, he couldn't tell, but he wouldn't push his luck on the subject more than was necessary. Rather, he took the coins she gave him back and turned back to face the inn owner, who apparently doubled as the cook. Wouldn't his moustache get all over the food? ... Perhaps it was something he shouldn't think about. "Meat." He said, sitting down on one of the tall, lanky chairs at the bar. The inn owner, who had distracted himself by cleaning the day's dishes, perked up and turned to look back at the man who he thought he'd shaken off, an internal groan at having to deal with him further.



"Pardon, sir?" The man asked, confused at Xeno's strange, short-spoken request. Apparently the Beast King wasn't clear enough. It usually worked at the castle. He said 'meat' when he was hungry, 'bath' when he wanted the tub prepped and 'wine' when he wanted drink. It was an easy, simple system to follow, but he often forgot that wasn't how the world worked. Yet.



"Give me a meal with meat. The best meat you have." He explained, a hint of annoyance in his voice as he was forced to waste his breath on something so incredibly simple. The inn owner nodded with hesitance, befuddled by the wolfman's quirky way of asking for things, although perhaps it was more suitable to say he was demanding them, rather than kindly asking for them. Regardless, he knew better than to make a fuss about it, especially when it came to a burly man as Xeno, so the inn owner went to the back, to the kitchen, and worked on getting Xeno's meal ready.



"Going to get a drink with that meat, hun?" A surly, suggestive voice called from behind him. Turning revealed it to be the redhead from before, apparently done tending to the other guests or perhaps having ditched them in favor of Xeno. Looking over her shoulder, the beast was met with a handful of displeased glares that did no good in letting him know whether it was the former or the latter. A smirk crawled into the corners of his lips, however, when he shifted his attention back to the woman. "I can think of other ways to sate my thirst, but let's go with that. I'll take some ale."



"Sounds good. Mind telling me who I'm having the pleasure of serving? I'm Windry, the only waitress in this hellhole bar." The woman said with a hint of bitterness that Xeno didn't miss. He scoffed; he didn't think the place was too bad, but maybe with all the men around, most of them filthy and sweaty from days of heavy labor, it wasn't the most pleasant. He could understand her plight, and if he wasn't already in the company of an elven princess, he might've offered to steal her away to his castle to be one of his numerous maids. But he had enough to deal with, trying not to offend Morgana as it was, and though her earlier comment suggested that she wasn't going to make a big fuss about laying this woman, he couldn't bet on the same thing if he suggested she joined them.



"Noxe is the name." He said after a moment, not because he was wary of giving out his name freely or anything, but because he had to remember just what bogus fake name he'd made up for his stay in the city. By the sound of the men Morgana had made company with, gossip was quick to spread in this city, so any small mess-up could spell an end to their quests. This Zote would hear the name 'Xeno' and hide for eternity, never again showing his ugly mug.



"What about your lass over there? She fine sharing me a piece of you?" Windry slid a large cup to Xeno, filled with a sweet-smelling alcohol that he couldn't find in his palace. The man snatched the drink as if someone else would steal it from him and took a chug of it, a satisfied sigh leaving him as his throat accepted the smooth-tasting, ice-cold drink.



"I don't know about fine..." He stole a sideway glance to Morgana as she worked her way into stealing some poor men's hard-earned gold, then back to Windry. "But we have separate bedrooms, if that paints a clear picture of where we stand."



Windry shrugged and hummed. "It doesn't, but I was almost sure you were together, by the way she looks at you. Separate bedrooms, huh?"



"My door's open if you're up for some fun later." Xeno exposed his white fangs at the woman in a playful grin before taking another swig at his drink. She smiled back at him, leaving him with the remaining bottle of ale.



"Maybe. Keep the bottle. It's on the house for tonight."



"Don't mind me, then."



---



Perhaps Windry was right about it being a hellhole bar. Xeno swore he could easily hunt and cook better meat than the one he was served, but he wasn't keen on complaining to the cook, out of fear that he would lose his privilege to the good drink. And if there was three things he couldn't live without, it was good meat, good drink and good women. This inn had at least two of those and he could always go somewhere else if he needed some good meat. ... Unless this was the best joint in town. Xeno shivered at the thought.



Now sitting on the bed of his own room, Xeno took a few minutes to reflect on the past day's events, though only superficially. He was feeling sticky and dry, a side effect of walking around town and the desert all day long. Without his maids to tend to him, he was left to rid himself of his garments by himself, letting them fall to the ground unceremoniously. Once naked, he stretched his limbs out and walked into the bathroom, gazing upon the door on the opposite side of the room. That connected to Morgana's room, but by the sound of it, she hadn't come up yet and trying to pull it open proved useless. It seemed that, like his own door, it needed the owner's key to open, or at least for them to unlock it from their side. So no walking into her room without her consent, huh? Too bad.



He didn't linger on it for too long, twisting the shower handle to let the water flow. Pressure and temperature seemed fine, at least. A bearable alternative to his warm tub with bath salts back home. He would survive for the length of their stay here. The man ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the knots that had inevitably built up in it, then down to his chest, his abdomen, trying to clean off the filth that had begun to stick to his body. Just as the water was beginning to warm up, he heard a door slamming open. His ears pulled back naturally, unused not to being walked in on when bathing, but to the woman's immediate retreat from the room as soon as she realized who it was she had walked in on. "Oh, part of me was hoping it was Windry, but you're quite a fine surprise too. Much more pleasant, actually..."



His back had been turned to the room when she first walked in, but as she pulled out and then back in, Xeno moved to face her, unashamed of his bare body, almost presenting himself in his full glory to the elven princess, even despite her own embarrassment at her error. "Now wait a moment here. I just got in. I'll catch a cold if I go out now." He tried his best to fake vexation, but he was far too amused at how surprisingly shy Morgana was and at the general situation at hand. He purred against her hand in his chest, standing his ground as she tried, futilely, to push him out of the room. Unsurprisingly, the wet floor worked against her effort and she slipped, falling forward as the force of her push took her off her feet. He barely managed to catch her midfall, his arm wrapping around back to hold her up firmly.



"I'm not going out yet, I said. But that doesn't mean you can't come in." He said, pulling her back up, holding her by the shoulders and not at all discreet about ogling her breasts, which were threatening to pop out of her towel with the smallest of movements. With the water still running and no guarantee of how long the warm water would last, he did what came naturally to him and slid his index into her cleavage... and pulled down the towel from her, quickly pulling her into the shower with him right after. He pushed her against the wall, right under the shower head, his arms falling from her shoulders and to her hips.



"Back in my tribe, I used to bathe with the men and women just like this. Us wolfkind believe that bathing together builds trust..." A hand wandered from her waist to her outer thigh, his chest pressing against hers to work as a cover for her breasts. "When a woman from another tribe is to be accepted into our tribe, they have to bathe with their mate like this. We believe it boosts fertility and raises the chances of a strong child. But of course... this is nothing like that..."



Xeno leaned down, his canines grazing against her earlobe. "... right?"
 
In his strange effervescence of enigma, she found him wicked. It pained her humility and boiled her blood, to find herself writhing in the workings of his web. Embarrassment narrowed its clutches around her slender neck, the air arduous to swallow.

“Don’t-” The warning simmered on the tip of her tongue, dying under the pained sigh erupting from her throat. The onyx tail hiding underneath her skin had found its way out from her facade of a shell. Strands of black silk fanned over her shoulders, pushed forward as a pair of dark horns emerged from the crown of her head. The woman had been too engrossed in her efforts for control, that she couldn’t stop the wolf from tugging her out of her towel.

Morgana had little time to argue, as a scalding warmth enveloped her waist. The touch was static, striking through the tips of his roughly etched fingers and stirring her bloodstream turbid with shock. Cerulean eyes were struck wide, her dark lashes tickling the surface of her eyelids. Roseate lips relinquished a pale gasp, her face undeniably scarlet. Cool panels of tile pressed into her back, her front captured under the weight of his torso. He was comprised of sturdy, dexterously sculpted mass- more impressive to the touch than to the eyes. Xeno effused a godly attractiveness, his skin kissed by the sun, and surprisingly colorful when mixed with her alabaster skin. Her cheeks weathered in pink, forever tainted bashful by him. He even made her colorful.

It was a harrowing version of hell he’d brought her into. Why did he have to make her feel this way? The stupid, maddening beast.

“When a woman from another tribe is to be accepted into our tribe, they have to bathe with their mate like this.”

Akin to the wariness of prey, she gauged her predator. Closer, he moved. Until she could feel his breath grazing the shell of her ear. At his words, smoke fumed from her aura. She’d been crippled by him in a matter of seconds. He could’ve chosen any number of words to subdue her. There were plenty of routes to seduction, much more meaningless than this. It was as if his every word, his every touch was tailored specifically for her. Maybe he was toying with her. Maybe the universe was having its way with her. Either way, it still left her in a bittersweet pool of pleasure.

“But of course... this is nothing like that- …right?”

Visible plumes of steam exhaled from between her trembling lips, her hands rising to clasp around his biceps. She was unsure if the action was meant to push him away, or pull him closer- her nails digging into bulging muscle. Her tail had moved between her legs to inspect the unyielding sensation of torture brewing in her core. The appendage slithered between her folds, the spade snaking its way up her stomach and between the constricted mounds of her cleavage. Morgana squeaked as she finally recognized the sticky substance of her arousal being dragged across her wet skin.

“Xeno.” A breathless plea escaped her, tethers of soft powder blue whirling with a more vicious, illuminant green. Make this stop. The heat, her feelings, everything. One more moment of this, and she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. She wouldn’t be able to resist his smoldering, savage eyes, or the way dampened pieces of his dark hair hovered over his gaze. She wouldn’t be able to suppress her urge to burrow her fangs deep in his neck, and taint the water red. She wouldn’t be able to quell the ache in her chest when she had to sleep in a separate bed. Guileless, crystal eyes beheld the staggering kismet at her fingertips. He stood nearly a head taller, dashing, wicked-lipped, and seeping in the vow of temptation and sin. He was her sin. Love was discarnate in her world. Passion was the unholiest vice in her arsenal. The devil he was, promised it all. His gaze of molten amber made her electric, humming with the taste of gravity on her tongue. Every fiber of her being was grounded to him without a word. Irrevocably.

For the first time, she noticed the puffs of smoke that littered the air with each onerous exhale. Her respiration was labored, her nerves splintering across her skin. Flame was beginning to form at the base of her chest, a dangerous sign of her hunger getting the best of her.

“You sound as though you want it to be…” She whispered, pressing her breasts further against his chest- her claws biting into his arms as a warning.

“You have a terrible habit of playing with fire, Beast. And I can’t promise you won’t get burned.” Morgana hoped that he would maybe second-guess his agenda, leaving her to toil with her own vexing needs. But the other half of her craved for him to stay.
 
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