For the Red Queen Week 2017 Exchange.
Regina tugs back the hood of her cloak as she steps into the tavern, waving a negligent hand when a few patrons turn in her direction.
She doesn't bother sparing them a look, knowing they'll have forgotten they'd even glanced toward the door. Instead, she peers around the crowded space.
The tavern is one of the better establishments to be found this far from the capital; the wooden walls are worn but kept well, though the floor is already spattered with spilled food and drink from the dubious clientele.
Regina curls her lip in distaste. She hadn't chosen the location for the meeting, nor had she elected to be the emissary for this particular endeavor. Given the choice, she'd much rather be back in her castle working on mastering the new hex she'd devised for a rather annoying local villager.
However, it really isn't an optional rendezvous. It's her turn to meet with one of the mongrels. Her coven has been bartering with the pack for two seasons now, the threat of the Coalition of the Common growing every moon.
Her fingers spark for a moment when she considers the new and brazen queen that's ascended the throne in the neighboring kingdom. In the face of a failing monarchy, the woman had declared all Soulkissed to be the cause of every malady and misfortune the five kingdoms have seen.
"I'm sure your gold carriages and trifling crusades across the sea have nothing to do with it," Regina mutters as she continues to search for her contact.
A splash of bright red draws her attention deeper into the tavern, leading to a tall woman with long dark hair that's leaning against the bar. She focuses on the thick crimson velvet of the woman's cloak, the quality uncommon for an establishment of questionable repute. That means little to Regina—but the runes that dance and skitter across the fabric propel her forward.
"That's an interesting cloak you're wearing," she declares as she fills the recently vacated space to the tall woman's right.
"It was a gift," the tall woman replies as she gestures to the barkeep. The empty tankard before her is promptly refilled.
Regina scrunches her nose. She's never found the stench of Werekind palatable. The heavy odor of ale doesn't help matters, either.
For a brief moment she wonders what it might be like to be Common, to have senses dulled to all but the most mundane aspects of the world.
She shudders. The awareness of the stench is but a small burden to bear. At least the werewolf is pretty enough to look at.
"Such a gift is none to be taken lightly." She contemplates ordering something to blend in better and promptly discards the notion. No one notices the elaborate wooden cup that appears, filled with a generous portion of wine.
Well, nearly no one.
The tall woman snorts. "Ale not good enough for you?"
Regina's lips twitch. "It doesn't agree with me."
"I doubt many do." The tall woman picks up her tankard and takes a healthy gulp.
If the woman were anything other than a lowborn mongrel, Regina might be annoyed. She sips her wine. "Many are too dim-witted to comprehend even the most basic notions of taste and quality."
The tall woman turns, a smile stretching her lips. "There's a table waiting for us in the back. I hope its quality will not offend someone of your tastes."
The green eyes glimmer with an otherworldly light for the briefest of moments. Regina has no doubt her contact is wishing for a great splinter to pierce her backside the moment she sits down.
"Let's get this over with," Regina retorts with an aggrieved sigh.
"As you wish," comes the sarcastic reply. The woman turns and executes a shallow bow. "You may call me Red."
Regina arches her eyebrows. "Regina," she murmurs with distaste.
Red's lips curl up, showing off unnaturally sharp teeth. Her mouth opens but, before she can speak, a loud commotion begins at the front of the tavern.
The tense exchange is forgotten as Regina's head jerks toward the sound.
The tables closest to the front door have been upended; a group of men in white hooded cloaks have shoved their way through despite the crowded interior.
"The Coalition," Red growls as she catches sight of the intruders. The muscles that shift in her face serve as a warning.
Fortunately for them, the violent entrance of the hooded men has angered many of the inebriated tavern patrons. The Coalition hasn't gained much of a foothold in the Third Kingdom, and Regina is pleased when a particularly burly man stands and punches the closest white-cloaked intruder.
Her eyes remain trained on the men as she reaches out a subtle hand to grip Red's wrist. "As much as I would like to show them just how foolish they are, our discretion is paramount." Muscle and sinew ripple slightly under her grip.
"They do seem to be otherwise occupied," Red concedes as she pulls her arm away. "We should leave."
"What a travesty," Regina drawls as she fluidly rises and casts a nonchalant eye toward the back door. "After you."
Red visibly hesitates; Regina is sure she wants to protest. A biting remark rises to the tip of her tongue but Red cuts her off with a headshake.
"Try to keep up." The statement is emphasized with a pointed look, and then Red is moving agilely through the drunken crowd.
Even with the riffraff scrambling around in attempts to engage in or avoid the fight that's broken out, Regina has no trouble following.
Just outside the door, Regina nearly slams into Red. Her hands reach out to Red's back automatically as she tries to maintain her balance. Sturdy and strong, there are worst things to fall into, though she doesn't find the lack of grace inspiring.
"What's the—"
Regina cuts herself off when she looks past Red's shoulder and finds a half circle of white-cloaked men waiting.
"Evening ladies," one says as he steps forward with a sharp smile, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with us."
"I'm afraid we'll have to decline," Red says in a short, almost barking, tone.
Regina drags a warning hand briefly across Red's back as she moves to stand adjacent to the taller woman. "I have to agree with my companion. We have engagements elsewhere that we simply cannot miss."
The man's smile morphs into a frown. "The Coalition—"
"Has no power here." Regina arches an eyebrow at him. "The Third Kingdom has laws against its citizens being held against their will." She lifts a finger to tap her chin, widening her eyes as if a thought has suddenly occurred to her. "In fact, I believe force may be allowed should the occasion arise. Would you say this might be such an occasion?"
She watches with interest as the man's eyes narrow; he scrutinizes her and Red for several moments.
Regina smirks. The Coalition's greatest strength is also it's greatest weakness; its fear of the unknown has lit fire in many men's bellies, but she can see that fear dampening that very fire out when faced with a real chance of danger.
Since Soulkissed can be any level of affinity with magic—with some only able to see the seven planes of magics and others (rarer) full-fledged witches or weres like her and Red—their would-be captors would be unable to tell their particular affinities.
"Of course not." The man's smile returns.
There's something off about it that doesn't allow Regina relax. She doesn't want to fight. As much as it's true that the Coalition hasn't gained a great foothold in the Third Kingdom, every incident between Common and Soulkissed only helps the Coalition further their agenda.
"Then step aside," Red commands.
The man's smile widens. He raises an arm and the half circle parts.
Regina sighs internally, wishing she'd worn a different coat. This is one of her favorites and she really doesn't wish to see it damaged. At least she'd thought to wear trousers.
"Only fists," she warns in a low voice as she and Red begin walking toward the opening.
Red grunts a response.
The glint of the moon reflecting off a bit of metal in Regina's peripheral vision is her only initial warning. She turns in time to avoid the threatening thrust.
"Predictable," she mutters as she whips her coat off and slings it around to slap the man smartly in the face.
Red snorts and ducks a wild swing from a short sword, a grin tugging at her lips. "I thought you said only fists?"
Regina sends Red a sour look and slaps aside another thrust with her coat. "Shut up and fight."
"As you wish," Red says with an even wider grin.
After the initial engagement, Regina must mentally concede that Red is as graceful as she is pretty—not half bad for a Werekind.
"You didn't bite any, did you?" Regina asks some time later as she nudges one of the fallen men with her boot. "It is a full moon tonight."
"It doesn't work like that," Red retorts as she shakes out her cloak. She examines it and then nods. "I'm not certain how those rumors started," she continues as puts the cloak back on.
"Interesting," Regina murmurs as she raises a glowing purple hand. She works quickly to adjust the memories of the unconscious men; they won't remember ever seeing either her or Red. She smooths a hand over her stomach as she finishes, mulling over an idea. "We didn't get to have our discussion."
Red glances around. "No, pity as it is. We shouldn't linger here, either."
Regina's lips twitch. "I know a place." She gives Red a pointed look and then begins walking toward the woods.
She smiles when she hears Red sigh, followed by the low sound of footsteps. Red catches up a full stride later, matching Regina step for step in silence.
"Is it difficult, ignoring her call?" Regina asks curiously once they're a safe distance from the tavern. The moon affects her as well, though she's heard that it's quite a different experience for Werekind.
"Yes." Red continues looking forward rather than facing Regina or glancing up at the moon.
Regina makes a noncommittal sound in her throat. She abruptly stops. "You'll need to remove your cloak."
"Pardon me?" Red's chin tilts up at a stubborn angle.
"Your cloak," Regina enunciates slowly, "remove it." She gestures impatiently with her hand.
Red frowns and stares at her blankly. "Why?"
Regina rolls her eyes. "It has protection runes on it; I can't transport us both while you wear it."
"Transport us? Where?" Red's frown deepens and her eyes narrow at Regina.
"Relax, wolf. I'm taking us to a safe place to barter our agreement, that's all." When Red still doesn't move, Regina huffs. "Do you really think I'd risk our alliance to harm you?"
"I don't really know you, do I?" Red retorts. She releases another sigh. "Though I suppose your people wouldn't have sent you if you wished to work counter to their wishes."
"Excellent, you can think. It did take longer than I thought, but I suppose it was to be expected." Regina lightly claps her hands. "Now, your cloak, if you please."
Wearing a less than pleased expression, Red grudgingly complies.
Regina waits until she sees the runes in the fabric stop moving. A slow, wicked smile grows on her face. "Silly wolf."
The shock on Red's face has hardly formed when Regina raises both hands and purple smoke envelopes them both.
As the smoke dissipates from around them mere seconds later, Regina only has a brief moment to register the growled "Witch" before she finds herself pushed harshly back into cold stone.
"Control yourself," she snaps.
Red's hands are curled tightly into the fabric of her coat and shirt. She looks up past the bared teeth to peer into hard green eyes.
"Control yourself or I will," Regina hisses. In other circumstances she might find the warm, lithe body pressed firmly into her own pleasant. She clenches her fists in an effort not to set the clumsy werewolf on fire.
Red's nostrils flare as she scents the air. Her angry expression melts into bewilderment. "Where are we?"
"Somewhere safe." Regina waits until Red steps back and releases her. She sends Red a displeased glare. "One of my keeps."
"My apologies," Red all but chokes out. "Your expression, right before..."
Regina rolls her jaw and raises her hand. A goblet full of wine appears in it. "I suppose it can't be helped," she drawls out before taking a sip, "I doubt you get much in the way of education running amok in the woods. Tell me, are you housebroken? Will I need to let you out before we begin?"
She takes another sip of her wine, silently daring Red to make another faux pas.
Red scoffs and pulls her cloak back on. "I have a list of requests and concessions from the last meet. Shall we?"
Regina gestures further into the room. It's warm from the large hearth that takes up nearly half of one wall, and a solid oak table and matching chairs are settled in the middle. Several sconces keep the room pleasantly lit despite the time of night.
She doesn't hesitate to take the ornate chair at the head of the table.
"My coven is prepared to agree to the following terms," she announces as Red warily takes the seat to her left. Taking a small bit of pity on the foul creature—really, it's not Red's fault she was born to be raised by a pack of poorly-educated mongrels—and conjures her a matching goblet of wine.
Red listens intently, her shoulders drooping as Regina continues. Halfway through, Red suddenly grips the goblet and swallows down its entire contents.
Regina hides her smile. There is some fun to be had, at least.
Some hours later, the full moon is past its zenith and Red and Regina have accomplished as much as possible without further contact with their respective clans.
"Terrible way to spend a night of the full moon," Red groans out as she rises.
"For a change, I agree with you." Regina sighs and rubs her temple.
When she glances toward Red, there's an odd expression on the other woman's face.
"Yes?" She arches an eyebrow as Red hesitates.
A slow smile blossoms on Red's face. "Are the rumors about witches and full moons true, then?"
"Depends on the rumor," Regina demurs. After several long hours, she's decided that perhaps her company isn't wholly dreadful. The stench has even become somewhat tolerable, and Regina has discovered that Red is especially attractive when she's angry.
Red crosses her arms and makes a show of peering around the room. "Oh, you know. The ones about dancing naked under the full moon to invigorate your powers."
Regina snorts and waves a hand. "Nonsense. Dancing naked under the moon does nothing. Now, copulating under the full moon is a different story."
"What, really?" Red blurts out with wide eyes.
"Don't Werekind have mating rituals under the full moon?" Regina adopts a concerned look. "Really, is any of our information accurate?"
"I—you," Red coughs into a raised fist and then clears her throat. "Yes. It's a powerful time to bond."
Regina pushes back her chair and stands, raising her arms into a pleasant stretch. "Then it's the same for both our kind. I imagine we might enjoy a few lunar celebrations together in the future."
"We?" Red, who's been very serious all night, is flushed and struggling to maintain her composure.
"Oh yes, of course." Regina offers her a devilish smile. "I mean your pack and my coven. It's best to focus on the things we have in common to bring us all together, don't you think? It might even be… fun."
To Regina's surprise, Red seems to find her equilibrium again. She gives Regina careful once-over. "As powerful as you are, I feel that you and your coven might be too physically delicate to engage in our rituals."
"I suppose there's only one way to find out," Regina muses aloud.
Red blinks slowly. "I don't like you."
"I don't like you either." Regina shrugs and cants her head to the side. "What's one got to do with the other? You're fair to the eye and the moonlight is fading."
For what seems a small eternity, Red doesn't react. "Is there somewhere—"
"The garden," Regina cuts in. "Come along, there's only a few hours left." She imagines even the stench of Werekind will become palatable amidst the scents of freshly turned earth and the many blooms that Regina personally cares for.
"This doesn't mean that I like you," Red says when they reach the garden and she begins tugging off her clothes.
Regina tries very hard not to roll her eyes. "Do shut up. We've done more than enough talking for the night."
When Red grins again to show off her sharply fanged teeth, a ripple of excitement travels down Regina's spine.