Rating: PG-13
Characters: Azkadellia/Zero
Summary: She smiles at him demurely, face cocked to the side with her pale skinned limbs arranged around the slim bones of her hips like a welcome. This takes place pre-series
Authors Note: This would probably be riddled with grammar mistakes and other awful things if it weren't for jazmin22 . She's a fantastic beta!
She's barely 16 the first time he meets her on an estate visit to the Royal Family's summer house with the General. He was young then, too, newly ascended to his rank but a little battle warn already. She smiles at him demurely, face cocked to the side with her pale skinned limbs arranged around the slim bones of her hips like a welcome.
"Mother," she says and the table stills around her voice. "I would very much like a walk before bed."
Her eyes are dark, endless and he stares at her across the table, unable to help himself.
"You cannot go alone," the Queen says, but her voice is bereft of any warmth or concern. She does not look at Azkadellia. She stares at her youngest daughter, the little girl's mouth already open in protest.
"I'll go with her," Zero says, the words out before he even knew they were there. He can feel the General's eyes on him, the approving nod and general consensus of the table. The Queen does not look at him but her advisor does, eyes sharp and mistrustful.
"Come," the Princess says, beckoning him with her hand as she rises, her gown rippling like water.
He meets her at the head of the table, erect and stiff beside her easy elegance. Azkadellia's smile is brilliant, hand firm around his arm. She walks with purpose beside him, head held high as they pass from the entrance hall and into the fading light of the suns. She does not look at him as they march past the calm lake and tall grass, eyes focused straight ahead.
The woods are silent around them and the earth is damp beneath their feet in the descending night air. "Not very far now," she says, excitement in her voice as she pulls him along.
"No." he counters, and feels her gloved fingers flex around his bicep as he stops her before the mouth of the cave, his hand on the curve of her bare shoulder. She teeters, lips parted and eyes wide, fearful for a moment.
"The swing?" he suggests, thinking of wild animals and other things that live in dark places.
"Yes, yes," she agrees but her voice is different now, smaller in a way he can't place. She follows him easily, head dipped low, away from his gaze and it puzzles him. There is color high in her cheeks when they sit side by side on the swing, a nervous flutter of her gloved hands in her lap. He stares at her feet and the rhythmic sway of her slender legs high above the ground.
She leans forward suddenly, away from him, towards the cave and he stares at her splayed fingers and the deep blue cloth of her gloves before he takes her hand in his. She turns to him, greets him with a coquettish twist of her lips when he burrows his finger under the fabric and presses against her wrist to listen to the steady pulse of blood.
She lets him remove her gloves carefully, pulling each finger free before he slides them off her hands and into his lap. Her hands are cold, velvety soft with youth and he presses a kiss to each, watching the stillness of her brown eyes and the gentle 'o' of her mouth. Her lips are full, pale pink in the dusk and he leans forward, listening to the catch of her breath. He's hesitant at first until she returns the kiss with inexperienced want.
Then he cups her neck, drags her across the wood until their thighs touch and she lays a hand on his shoulder, and offers a nervous smile of encouragement that he returns. He stares for a moment, caught by her untouched beauty and splendor before he takes her mouth, pushes past the softness of her lips. She tastes sweet at first, honeyed wine and something floral but there is a curl of magic on her tongue, bitter sweet in his mouth. He kisses her hungrily, seeks out the power rooted under the slick underside of her mouth. He can feel her hands, tiny fists curled around his shoulder, pushing, pushing him away suddenly but he holds on, delves deeper and deeper until there is nothing more, just the ringing hollowness inside and the slow decay of light.