Title: Entwined
Briar/Berenene
Note: This was written for The Dancing Dove's Sick F--- Faction fanfic competition.
He stepped forward and placed the paper key in her beckoning hand, bowed and walked away.
"Briar, you don't have to let it end like this," she tugged him backward by his shirtsleeve. Her skin smelled like the orchids she loved, and there was an earthiness beneath that.
And there was little else he loved more than the smell of soil.
He breathed in deep. Fully aware of her smug smile. She thought she had won.
"Your customs stink," he said, calling to the vines that worked their way along the walls of the greenhouse.
"Our customs make women stronger," she replied numbly.
"Is that why you offer protection to the girls who serve you? Either you think the custom makes women strong, and you want the girls close to you to be weak, or you know that no girl deserves that fate – and you place your value on certain girls and pick and choose who will live as slaves to their husbands and who will live as slaves to you."
Berenene's eyes flashed with shock, then anger; Briar did not know if it was because of his words or the plants that had clamped around her wrists and ankles, and were slowly winding around her torso.
"My sisters could be here within a moment, binding you to me with spells you could barely dream of, were I a fan of this barbaric custom."
She struggled against her bonds, then relaxed and gazed at him with level eyes. "Briar, you are the last person I'd expect to play these games."
Something in him snapped. "What is it with you emperors and empresses?" he shouted. "One person having power over another person's life isn't a game! You can't just send your minions to war, or pick and choose who among your subjects will entertain you in bed. You can't expect four foreigners to stay in the land because you want them to. Taking away people's will power isn't a game!"
The vines constricted and Berenene cried out in pain.
"Look at yourself!" Briar exclaimed, touching her face with steady, gentle hands that were somehow detached from his fury.
Berenene felt, for a moment, like a willful shakkan who was trying to grow in ways Briar did not want her to grow.
He cares, she realized. He only yells because he genuinely cares about my soul.
"Look at yourself," Briar repeated in a whisper. "You've got brains, and you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. You don't need to manipulate people to make them yours. You could conquer the world with your energy and beauty and intelligence faster than you could with arms or poisoned cloth." He stroked her face with his thumb, then kissed her fiercely.
She kissed back with ferocity, giving everything she had and wanting more – so much more – from this boy who spoke plain truths.
"I'm not the kind of plant who can grow in a place like this," he murmured against her lips. "I don't like to share my plant-bed."
"Just once?" she begged. She was unused to the sound of her own begging. She pressed her body against his, as much as her restraints would allow.
Briar studied her for a moment. "Just once," he said huskily.
He let the vines loosen their grip, but Berenene smiled wickedly at him. "Leave them," she murmured.