Her eyes jumped from Tobias to Leon and then to Tobias again.
"Do they…do they know we're married? Is this like a meeting over our marriage? Are they against it?" It was ridiculous, maybe even childish, but she knew what High Fae thought of Illyarians – they were used as weapons and weapons only. They weren't exactly peasants in the system, but they weren't marriage material either. They were what they were and they would stay that way forever. And while Tobias's face was emotionless, she knew that he was in knowledge of what she was saying.
"If anyone has a problem with our marriage," he said, "they can die because of it." She took a deep breath, trying to release her worries but this meeting was with powerful people – one of whom had almost ruined the royal family by taking off a single leg. She wanted to believe in Tobias's power, yes, but power only went so far.
"And when will this be? This meeting?" Selene asked.
"In about, eh, I dunno, half an hour?" Leon answered casually, nodding towards the sun. "But those ogres are always an hour late. So see you an hour?" It took her a moment, as she held his gaze, to realize that he was still talking to her.
"Wait, me? You aren't actually insisting that I be a part of this meeting, are you?"
"Well, you can read can't you?" Tobias replied.
"Yes, I already told you that."
"Then I'm not sure why you wouldn't," he said. She looked down at herself, at the silk nightgown that she had entirely forgotten about.
"I didn't change," she said, "I-" He waved his hand at her impatiently.
"Then go do that. I don't want to exile half my counsel for staring at your breasts." he said harshly. She flushed.
"Where do I get clothes? I don't-"
"Go open that door in your room that you refuse to open – yes, I saw how you looked at it when I brought you in this morning. It's called a closet," Tobias sneered sarcastically. "And wear that…what are those things called again, Leon?"
"Traditional sashes?" Leon guessed. Tobias snapped his fingers approvingly.
"Yes, put a dress on and then layer some sashes over it. It's Night Court tradition," he told her. She felt herself pulling at her gown anxiously, confusion filling her. But, in fear that her incompetence would backfire on her, she walked out of the room soundlessly and with slight hesitation, walked up the large steps. While the estate was straight forward, the place made her dizzy. There were so many rooms – so many stairs. She couldn't remember how many flights she took up until she turned around and started over again from the main landing. It probably took her ten minutes before she made it to her room again, despite it being just a few floors above them and the fourth door to the left.
When she opened the door to her room, she sat at the edge of her bed worriedly, staring around at the lavender walls. There was barely anything in the room, and a part of her wanted to fill it up but when she thought about it deeper she didn't know what in the world she would fill it with. In her village, all she could ever think about was collecting herbs and helping around the house. Though her father was a blacksmith, she was a part-time laundress for some extra money, but that was all she had. She didn't know much about herself or what she wanted to do now that she had the opportunity. She just wanted to be safe.
After a few minutes of day dreaming, she forced herself off the bed and walked towards the closed closet cautiously. Taking in a wary breath, she opened the door slowly. She didn't know what she was expecting – a cloak, a few dresses, possibly even something else entirely. But instead she tipped back on her heels, gaping. There were more than a few dresses – so many that she was almost afraid that it had to be someone else's. There were at least twenty dresses in the closet, all ranging in rich colors. Her eyes scanned them in awe, unsure of which one to pick. There were so many colors – a pure white, a deep maroon, sapphire blue. But, praying that she wouldn't catch anyone's attention, she picked a plain black gown. Without thinking, she stripped down to her underwear and tossed the black gown over her head. Instead of two straps to hold up the dress, there was only one that reached across her chest. It was sleek, pretty but hopefully made her invisible.
Her eyes fell back inside the closet, looking at the many cloths that were hung up on the back of the door. They weren't dresses like the others, but were long cuts of materials. They were sashes, she deducted quickly. She remembered what Tobias and Leon had told her about the sashes. But how many should she put on? And which ones would be appropriate? She realized quickly, as her fingers ran across them, that six to seven sashes were attached together, as if whoever put them there was implying that they should be worn together. She picked up one of the bundles, her eyes scanning it. The bundle contained sashes ranged from a light, opaque shade of red to such a dark red that it almost looked black. While she felt uncomfortable putting on the severely nice material, the rest of the bundles were far too distracting for her. Most of the other bundles were filled with much brighter colors, which would cause far more attention than she needed. She put them over her body lankily, fidgeting with the order of which they should be displayed on, but then she heard a voice echo.
"He took away my goddamned land and just gave it to some new bloke that he met on his last travel. Said that I wasn't inspiring enough. And because he couldn't trust someone who has only fucked his sister." She walked towards her closed door, pressing her ear to it silently. While the voice was several floors away, she couldn't help but listen.
"Well, do you still fuck your sister?" Another unfamiliar voice asked evenly.
"Duh. But that doesn't mean I've never fucked anyone else," the first voice responded. The other voice, light but still loud enough to be clear even from floors below, laughed. She waited until their chortles were no more than barely audible whispers before she opened the door sneakily. As she turned her head towards the nearest staircase, she decided quickly that she didn't want to run into the two men. Knowing that she had never gone that way and wasn't exactly sure where the next staircase was and what room would meet her on the main landing when she did, she daringly stepped into the new territory.
She thought it would be easier maneuvering in the house through a different passage, but it only confused her more. The hallway walls changed colors, the repetitive doors soon looked far different than what her own bedroom door had looked like, and only a few minutes later she was wondering if she was still in the same house. Everything, even though she was still on the same floor, looked entirely different when she walked closer to the opposite wing, and it terrified her. There were more turns and corners than she had imagined and she still was yet to see a second staircase. She swung her head behind her anxiously, looking back at where she had come from originally. Her bedroom door was no longer in sight. Thankfully, as her pace quickened, she caught eyes with the second staircase. Nervously, she teetered down the steps, counting down the floors. When she arrived to the floor that she had sworn was the main landing, she knew she made a grave mistake. It looked nothing like the living room she had been swept into only an hour prior.
"Lost?" A voice, light as can be, asked. She jumped around jerkily but when she met eyes with the stranger, her face softened. Unlike Tobias, she deducted quickly, he showed no signs of intimidation nor a threat. No warningly vibes went down her spine and he didn't appear quite that evil at all. He even looked, well, nice. Even though she had only been in the castle for a short time, she knew that nice high fae were hard to come by. And not only that, but he held an unusual beauty that only she could relate to. He ran his fingers up and down his white-blonde hair casually, making her stare at the unusual blonde that he bore, just like her. One part of her was screaming to run, because surely this beautiful man had to be a trick, but she couldn't find herself to walk away.
"It must be your first time here, right?" The man continued, stepping towards her cautiously. She felt her moist hands clamp together.
"Something like that," she said under her breath. He waved his hand forgivingly, a warm glow filling his cheeks.
"I've probably been here a dozen times and I still don't know how to get through this maze. I was just trying to find the bathroom and yet I have no idea where I am," he said, his green eyes dancing around the room. "I'm assuming this is the trophy room, though." It was evidently sarcasm as her eyes swept across the room – there had to be a dozen golden cups on the many shelves, along with a number of animal horns that illustrated Tobias's magnificent hunting skills. She sneered at the sight. Why did the high fae think that trophies illustrated someone's power? Shiny objects didn't make a difference to her.
Her eyes, now filled with suspicion, went back to the mysterious man. He was clearly a council member by the many pins on his tunic and was standing with an arrogant grace that reminded her greatly of Tobias. They held each other's gaze silently until his eyes widened and he stepped closer to her. He took in a sharp breath, gaping as he looked at her up and down rapidly. Her cheeks heated instantly as she inched backwards, feeling suddenly aware of the fact that they were very much alone.
"What's wrong? What are you looking at?" She demanded, but he merely shook his head.
"You're Illyarian," he blurted in awe, his words but a whisper. She glanced around the trophy room frantically, an explanation forming on her lips but then he held out his palm.
"I am not trying to ridicule you. It's…inspiring," he said, looking at her with a twinkle in his eyes. "An Illyarian, here. At a council meeting. If our people wrote books-"
"Our people?" She interrupted, her eyebrows furrowed down. She scanned his body again, looking more closely for details now. While he was far from forgettable, she didn't see any wings or any distinct Illyarian features. To be honest, he practically looked anti-Illyrian. Like her, his vibrant blonde hair and golden eyes stuck out vividly, nothing like the dark hair and dark eyes that normally filled the Illyarian villages. At least she had wings though, unlike him.
"My mother is Illyarian," he explained quickly, reading the confused look in her eyes, "Sadly, I didn't inherit the wings. But my father's side gave me enough power to not be bitter."
"In all due respect, I don't think there's a single thing on this planet that would stop me from being bitter," she replied, almost snappily. "Our Illyarian blood, no matter how tiny, should not be forgotten." He gave her a crooked smile.
"I didn't say I wasn't envious," he said lightly, flashing her a half-smile. "Now, what is your-"
"Selene," she replied quickly, too quickly, and then cleared her throat. "My name is Selene." He bowed at the waist, making her flush harder.
"And my name is Owain." When he rose back up, his eyebrows were furrowed down at her dress. He tilted his head curiously.
"Nobody told me we were going to war," He said, his eyes narrowing on the sashes, a small glint of anger in his eyes. Her body stiffened.
"War? We're going to war?" She asked fast, her heart beat suddenly racing. "What-" But he reflected the same surprised look.
"Your sashes," he said, pointing at them rapidly, "The color order of the red. It signifies war, does it not?" And then, just like that, her face drained dead white and she was gripping the sashes desperately, fear filling her eyes.
"I-I didn't know. I promise I didn't know. I need to go change, please tell-" Without a warning, he reached for her sashes and reversed them, making the color pattern the exact opposite than before. He layered them carefully across her chest, shifting them at an angle that almost made them look elegant if it wasn't her who was wearing them.
"Good thing you met me first. The High Lord may have just taken off your head for sending such a message," he said, smiling as he took one step back, "Perfectly non-deathly now. Now, is it okay if we go back towards the High Lord's conference? I heard there was a bathroom right next to the conference room." Without waiting for her to reply, he began walking out of the room and on towards the next wing. She teetered behind hesitantly.
"I'm assuming you are a newlywed?" He said, almost mockingly as turned his head back to her. "Oh, don't give me that look. You stick out like a sore thumb with that dazed look in your eyes." She pursed her lips at him defensively.
"And I'm assuming you're one of the daft morons who caused this conference to occur," she snapped back. He snorted at her, his eyes bouncing with amusement.
"Quite the opposite," he argued. "I'm one of the few that settles down the fires that erupt in that room. I must admit, it's a good thing we have a lady in the room. Now I know that there will at least be two rational people speaking." She flashed him a surprised look.
"My husband told me that-"
"Fuck, please don't tell me you're one of those girls who actually have the opportunity to walk in there and yet watch in silence as those men corrupt this world," he snapped suddenly. She blinked at him stupidly, stopping for a moment.
"It's been two hundred years since the high lord allowed a woman to join the conference," he went on. "Don't blow it."
"But I'm not a councilmember," she argued, though her voice cracked uneasily. "I'm a woman. I can't-" The look on his face silenced her.
"Talk?" He finished. "Have an opinion? Trust me, lovely, if you're going to be a part of this world, you are going to have to keep up."
"An opinion? I don't know anything about this place. My husband-"
"Why do you think your husband wanted you to come anyways?" He asked back harshly. She opened her mouth but then she closed it quickly. Why did he want her to come? She assumed because of aesthetics, to introduce her to his council, but what part did she play?
"You think he wants my opinion? That's why he wanted me to come?" She replied back. He shrugged sarcastically.
"I'm not sure why else he'd drag his wife to this ghastly place," he sneered, looking around him grimly. "Who are you married to, anywho? Quentin? Fabian?" She opened her mouth, about to tell him, but then he waved his hand at her dismissively.
"Oh, it doesn't really matter, I guess," he said quickly. "They're all the same. Brutes till the very end." She bit her lip gently.
"Actually, I..." She paused for a moment, clearing her throat. "I'm married to the High Lord. The High Lord." Owain stopped sharply. He turned towards her, his eyes wide as he scanned her once more.
"What?" Her face drained white. She had to admit, it probably wasn't the brightest idea to spout the news to a man she barely knew. Surely, Tobias would want to tell them himself, as it was a pretty large announcement.
"I'm his mate," she said, her voice pierced highly. "I know, it's quite a shock. Someone like me, being courted by someone like him." His eyes went up and down her again, his mouth slightly ajar.
"I'm…I'm of age," she stuttered, her cheeks hot as he stared at her. "I know, I look like a child. But I'm eighteen and have already bled. And, I know how to write and read. I have manners and-"
"He really is going to change this place," he whispered to himself, his eyes wide with wonder. She blinked at him stupidly.
"What do you mean?" She replied, but he merely shook his head and began walking again. She hurried behind him as he continued to shake his head and mumble under his breath.
"Wait!" She demanded, following on his heels as fast as she could. "What do you mean, changing this place?"
"He married an Illyarian," he said, letting out a shallow snort. "There isn't another man in that room who has the balls to marry an Illyarian, even if they were mates. Anybody else would've just kept you as their whore, love." She pursed her lips.
"What's your point?" She said, this time snappily. He stopped walking for a moment, letting out a sigh. She could see as she peaked over his head that they had almost made it to living room, which meant they were one step closer to the conference room. Even from a room away, she could hear the men's harsh voices as they snarled at each other.
"There's something new about you, Selene. Not just you being an Illyarian, but something else. Something that makes him want you at that meeting. Oh, and I finally found the loo." Instead of walking further into the next room, he turned to his right and opened a dusty door that was clearly the bathroom.
And as he walked away, whistling under his breath, she couldn't help but look at how bright his blonde hair was.
~*~discidium~*~
She finally caught her breath when she met eyes with Leon. He looked anxious – frightened maybe. He was lingering outside the conference room with a sneer on his lips, shooting dagger-like stares at every man who passed him. But when he saw her, he pushed past the men roughly, ignoring their cold curses. His lips were trembling.
"The fuck have you been?" He hissed. "I've been looking for you everywhere! Half of the council is already seated and you're…" His eyes fell down on her suddenly, analyzing her body. Not sexually, thank the cauldron, but as if double checking that all of her limbs were still together. The anger, like a time table, brushed away within a second. Her eyebrows furrowed down.
"I got lost-?" She began but he rolled his eyes tiredly.
"Oh, forget it," He said with a sigh, pulling her with him towards the large double doors that led them into the conference room. A small smile appeared on her lips.
"Were you worried about me, Leon?" She teased. He waved a hand at her.
"For my own head, really," Leon told her with a huff, though he still didn't seem calm. "You look nervous – stop being nervous. It doesn't help. Just…be yourself. You are, to be frank, the safest person in the room." She swallowed anxiously.
"I don't know how to be myself," she mumbled, "I'm not ready-"
"Then just sit down and follow along, alright?" Leon said, unusually sharp. "Fuck, we have to go in. Come on." But before she could comment on the sweet relief that filled his face as he looked back at her once more, she stepped into the conference room. It wasn't extraordinary like she expected – just plain walls and a dark wood table that seated at least forty men. The only object that stuck out was a wooden throne, which was carved with interesting designs that made her blink stupidly. Tobias was slouched inside of it comfortably, his eyes hawking the room with his lips curled back in disgust.
"Oy, we have an Illyrian here," A voice behind her gruffed. She turned her head fast, meeting eyes with a thick man who had a beard down to his waist. His eyes were dark – dark like Hunter's. He looked at her greedily, his mouth in a smirk. She glanced around her quickly, realizing in an instant that Leon had stopped to speak to someone and that he was too far away for her comfort.
"Must be the High Lord's new mistress," another man, a redhead, snorted. "'ey, love, do we get to bed with you too?" Instantly, her face flushed with redness. She stepped back on her heels.
"I-" And then she heard the sharp slinging sound before she saw it. A dagger, small but sharp, whisked through the air and hit the redhead square in the neck. He tripped back, choking loudly as the voices quietened. She felt someone pull her back – Leon, probably. Her eyes danced around, watching as none of them men reached for the choking man. Her fingers tingled as she had to stop herself from reaching for him, and thankfully the gruff hands holding her back held onto her tightly.
"She is my wife," Tobias said behind her, still sitting in his chair leisurely, his voice so sharp that he didn't need to raise it. "Lady Selene. And the next person who dares to disrespect her will have their entire village burned down to the ground." There was a chilling silence but yet, everything suddenly felt so loud. All the men's faces, no matter how large or scary they seemed, turned white. But then a man stepped up daringly, his eyes flashing.
"You let an Illyrian be the mother of our land? They aren't High Fae," The man pointed out. When she turned her head, she was surprised to see a smile on Tobias's face.
"Last time I checked, Haagen, neither are bastards," he spat coolly, the smile still on his lips. The man, Haagen, flinched his lips up angrily, his hand inching towards his knife, but then stepped back with a grunt. She let out a breath. Awkwardness filling her, she stepped towards Tobias and sat in the chair right beside him, about to whisper an apology but his eyes were sweeping across the room again. He didn't acknowledge her as she waited for him to meet her gaze, so she sighed deeply, catching the reassuring look on Leon's face. He sat on her opposite side, leaning towards her.
"Don't worry," Leon said, and she wondered as she looked at him where that care-free man she had met earlier had gone. There was anxiety all over his face. "Just breathe." She turned back in front of her, trying to ignore the annoying tapping that Leon was doing against the table. Tobias, on the other hand, looked cold as stone. His fingers didn't inch towards her, and for a long moment she didn't know where she should look at – her cold, unreadable husband or the nerve-filled brother-in-law beside her.
"I guess we should start," Tobias drawled after a moment, catching the eyes of all the men in the room. Most of the men looked away instinctively, but a few, bravely, held his gaze. "Does anybody have anything to say, for a start?" Nobody said anything at first. They all merely looked at their laps or quickly glanced at the person beside them and Tobias's eyebrows lurched up in surprise.
"Nobody?" He asked, louder. "Nobody has anything to say?" But then just as Selene came to believe that nobody had an objection, a larger man stood up. Selene caught her breath, thinking that possibly Tobias would've been insulted but he smiled at the large man. His eyes twinkled, but not in an admiring way. A calculating way, a predatory way.
"Ah, Salazar," Tobias said. , amusement filling his voice. "I see Jameson isn't accompanying you?" The man fidgeted awkwardly, glancing around the room before meeting Tobias's eyes once again.
"He told me he'd meet me here," The man replied, "He said he was going to take a different route to here. He must be la-"
"You're boring me, Salazar," Tobias said suddenly, rolling his eyes, "Please, go on and babble about what is on your mind." Salazar straightened suddenly, as if jumping a bit, but then as he fumbled with his cuffs he nodded his head obediently.
"You took away my lands," he said, his voice cracking at the end. Selene expected to see snickering but around the room, all the members suddenly sat upright. Fear stung their faces as their eyes widened. Clearly, the fact that someone's lands were taken away meant something far worse.
"And?" Tobias replied, picking at his fingers. Salazar swallowed.
"Well, the Northern Lands have been in my family for five generations and only I know those lands as well as-"
"Wrong," Tobias snapped. Salazar blinked.
"Ex-Excuse me, my lord?"
"You are certainly not qualified to hold those lands," Tobias said easily, glancing up at him. Salazar's mouth opened immediately.
"Not qualified? In all due respect my lord, who could be more qualified than someone who was born to be the representative of the northern tribes? That is-"
"Selene of the Northern Lands."
And then Selene's face snapped towards Tobias like a lightning bolt.
"Me?" Selene blurted. "I-" But then she felt Leon's tight hand clasp her leg. Letting out a choking sound, she looked at Leon desperately but he shot her a stern look. She took two uneven breaths and then looked around the room once more. All the men were staring at her in horror.
"Her?" Salazar said, anger rising in his voice. "An Illyarian, in charge of nearly twenty villages?" Selene couldn't help but agree.
"Yes. Since she has lived in one of the nearby villages for the last eighteen years, unlike you who hasn't slept a night in your lands in over a decade, I thought she was a wee bit more qualified. Do you disagree?" Tobias merely said, his eyebrows raised. The man let out a shaky breath.
"I-My Lord-No. No, I…I agree," The man managed to say, slumping back down in his chair in surrender. The man's eyes looked far away, staring into nothing as if he had lost his entire life, and yet he couldn't even argue. Selene, on the other hand, was looking at Tobias as if he were absolutely insane. Her? Be the representative over twenty villages? She couldn't possibly-
But then the doors opening with a bang interrupted her thoughts. She heard Leon's growl before the doors opened fully, and she blinked once she registered the two figures in the door way. Two men lingered in front of the councilmembers – one large one and one, she realized quickly, was someone she had just met. Owain. She looked around the room again, suddenly realizing that he had in fact not arrived yet. The larger man, she realized, must have been Jameson, as everybody looked quite alert. She noticed how both of the men glanced at the dead body lingering in the doorway, as if mildly interested, but then walked in unison into the room.
"Our marvelous cousin," she heard Leon drawl under his breath in annoyance, and she could tell by the rest of the looks in the room that nobody disagreed.
It wasn't impossible to see how the beefy councilmen could slice off Leon's leg, to be fair. The man was taller than any person in the room, including Tobias, and had biceps bigger than her own head. It only took her half a second to recognize the slim figure beside him - Owain. He looked like a stick next to the man next to him, but there wasn't a flash of fear on his face.
"Well, well, well," Tobias chimed, his hands intertwined and his elbows propped onto the grand table. "Infamously late, as usual. Do you ever fail to be predictable, Jameson?" Her eyes moved towards the big fellow again, but he didn't even twitch. And then Owain stepped closer to the table, his hands on an empty seat. He had a smug look on his face.
"I have nothing to prove, my lord," Owain replied, and then it was at that moment that she realized who Owain was. Jameson wasn't the large ogre-like man. He was Jameson. Owain was Jameson. It took every part of her not to seem surprised, even a bit betrayed, as he smirked at each person individually, but when his eyes found hers his arrogance ceased. His eyes twinkled at her for a moment, holding her gaze for longer than she liked. While majority of the table didn't catch it, she could have sworn she heard a growl under Tobias's breath.
"Sit, Jameson," Tobias demanded. With a flawless smirk, Jameson sat directly in front of her, leaning back in his chair casually and tipping on the back legs of the chair. As his eyes remained on her, she looked away casually, avoiding his gaze.
"Did I miss anything, my lord? Everybody looks stricken," Jameson said, chortling. Nobody followed his laughs, but Tobias flashed him a cruel smile.
"I was just telling the council how I have given the Northern Lands to Selene, my new wife," Tobias said, and she heard a hint of arrogance in his tone when Tobias said her name. Jameson's smile didn't falter but there was a flicker in his eyes.
"Ah, taking away a lord's only income is such a traditional gift. Tell me, how did you meet? Are you a lord's daughter? A desired woman?" This time, she realized, Jameson was talking to her. She felt Leon's hand tense warningly. She opened her mouth, choking for a moment.
"I…we…" He found me bound to a post, ready to be slaughtered for treason. But she didn't say that. Instead she said, "My father is a war hero. We met through him." Leon's hands loosened but Jameson, she realized quickly, didn't believe her. It was written all over his face when he gave her a tight smirk – it was like he could see right past her. Like he knew her.
"Congratulations," he said in a tense voice, his eyes flickering towards Tobias. "Now, please tell me, why are we all here?"
"Annual meeting," Tobias said slowly, emphasizing each word as if Jameson was absolutely stupid.
"Yes," Jameson said, dismissing Tobias's tone. "But why now? It's not supposed to be for another three months." Tobias huffed impatiently.
"It's time we start thinking ahead. Not that you have much to contribute, Jameson." There was a tick of silence before Jameson's eyes darkened. His smile vanished.
"What is that supposed to mean, my lord?" Jameson said carefully, clearly forgetting about his cheeky persona. But, Tobias hand was smirking so victoriously that the hair's on the back of Selene's neck went straight up. Curious, Selene's eyes shifted towards Leon's face but Leon's face was emotionless.
"Well, now that you let your people be barbequed like pork chops, I assumed you wouldn't even show up," Tobias said. Selene's eyes widened and a sharp pain hit the bottom of the stomach. Around the table, the lords looked away uncomfortably. Barbequed? But even Leon's eyes filled with sympathy.
"I heard they burned to death," Tobias went on, chuckling cruelly. Jameson's face was dead white and his eyes, though once seemed handsome, looked deathly.
"My men died in honor," Jameson corrected, his lips shaking. "If anything, my people were hoping you'd show up. You are their generous High Lord after all." Tobias's small laughs turned into bellows.
"I have more people to worry about. You think one tribe is at the top of my priority?" Jameson let out a cold laugh
"Only a tribe over fifteen thousand men, two-thirds of whom died," Jameson said through his clenched teeth. "And you didn't send an ounce of relief."
"It's not my fault that your men can't fight," Tobias chortled in return, laughing still.
"My men were sleeping," Jameson snapped back. "If you had brought the resources like I had politely asked for, this wouldn't have been an issue."
"I can't spear my resources on something so petty as a fight against a warlord. I have multiple war lords against me. What, you want me to march all the way up there and give you all of my supplies? All of my help?" He was taunting him, Selene realized. The man that cut off his brother's leg, who stopped his brother from being the ultimate ruler of the Night Court. But she felt like there was something else, something beyond the maddening glint in her husband's eyes.
"When half of the woman are slaughtered and more than half of the children are now orphans, yes," Jameson said, and she could swear there were tears in his eyes. Tobias shook his head at him.
"You started that fight," Tobias said to him, "You did that, Jameson. Not me. I refuse to be held responsible for something I specifically didn't agree with. You should've done better." Jameson's mouth opened in protest, his fingers digging into the wood table.
"If I may interrupt, my lord, war lords have been threatening my tribe as well," a man interrupted. Everybody's head swung to that part of the table, eyeing the man. He was sweating profusely. Tobias's eyebrows perked up in mild interest.
"And have you tried negotiating?" Tobias asked. The man turned red.
"Well, yes, but they want to talk to you," the man said. "We-I need help." Tobias's mouth turned into a tight line and clearly, he wasn't pleased with standing up against the warlords.
"I'll send him a letter," Leon interrupted quickly, not without shooting a warningly stare at his brother. "As our lord's high general, he'll take me seriously." Jameson scuffed under his breath but nobody heard him but her.
"Thank you," the man said, nodding his head down. Leon nodded back at him curtly.
"And I, my lord, have been raided continuously. We have fought and tried negotiating, but like Jameson's situation, they are not listening," a third man said. Tobias leaned back in his chair and let out a long, exhaustive puff of air.
"How many have died?" Tobias asked curiously. The man closed his eyes for a second, taking a shallow breath.
"Fourteen men, but twenty women have been raped and five young boys are missing, my lord," the man said, pain aching in his voice. While Selene's stomach twisted and she wanted so much to just reach out to the stranger, Tobias rolled his eyes.
"Fine, I will release warriors to all of your villages. They'lll guard the front gates – or your damn house. Whatever you need," Tobias said finally, clearly defeated. Jameson shook his head, a mirthless smile on his face.
"Sending a few warriors? That won't be enough," Jameson said, letting out a chuckle. "These war lords are hungry. We need a firm leader to defend us." Tobias barred his teeth. Around the table, multiple lords agreed.
"Be careful, Jameson. Don't push your luck," Tobias growled. Tobias had a small smirk on his face as Jameson turned away hastily after a long moment of holding his gaze tightly. Selene swallowed.
"How many warriors, my lord?" A voice interrupted. Tobias turned towards one of the lords who had interjected. He shrugged casually.
"I'll distribute one-sixteen of my Illyarians, Bernard." My Illyarians. And one-sixteenth. How many did that mean? One, maybe two of the Illyarians in her village? She-They could spare that many, but it didn't settle well.
Bernard cleared his throat. Leon's lips turned up.
"Don't silence yourself, Lord Bernard. Speak if you have an issue," Leon demanded. Bernard nodded hesitantly.
"Well, yes. I just-Well, I can speak for most of the lords here that we will need more than one-sixteenth of the Illyarians. We need an army, my lord." Suddenly, Selene tensed. Those Illyarians were her people as well. Surely, her new husband understand that it was her job to protect them. But, as she looked at Tobias pleadingly, he didn't look her away. She leaned to the front of her seat anxiously, watching as his mouth opened.
"Fine, Bernard. You get one fifth of all the Illyarians under one hundred and fifty years old in the North Western villages." One-hundred and fifty years old. In the North Western villages. Most of the ones that young were still in underdeveloped villages, waiting for recruiters to finally take them in. That wouldn't just cut into the Illyarian camps – they would cut into the villages as well. Her village.
Her fingers clung to the table tightly, sucking in a harsh breath.
"No," she tried saying, but she couldn't let the word out. An army – an army of Illyarians. Those were her people – the people she was bound to protect. With the camp leaders she had, the people needed the few Illyarians that would stop the women from being raped and the children abused.
"Fifty percent and all of them have to be under a hundred years old. I want them young," Bernard argued. That was over half of the Illyarian villages, she wanted to say. That was her entire village. That was her everything.
"No," Tobias replied. She looked at Leon desperately and finally she caught his attention. His eyes looked at her piercingly, clearly understanding what was running through her head.
"Forty-five."
"You're pushing it," Tobias reminded him. Bernard swallowed.
"Would you-would you, my lord, allow for forty percent of the Illyarian legion?" There was a moment of silence. Tobias straightened on his chair.
"Wait!" Jameson interrupted sharply. She saw, at that moment, that the same desperate look that she had was on his face as well. Her husband's eyes flickered at him.
"I advise you not to do that, my lord," Jameson told him, his voice oddly polite now. "Many of those men protect the villages. With the winter coming, they need to protect their villages. Surely, you can take the warriors from the training camps. They have more skills, better use. My lord-"
"Forty-percent?" Tobias asked Bernard quickly. The man nodded desperately. Jameson's mouth dropped.
"Wait-"
"I think forty-percent it is," Tobias agreed. Selene felt like she was going to puke. There was no way her village could recover from this – no way they would survive this winter. Jameson bolted up from his seat.
"This is absurd, an outrage!" Jameson bellowed. "Those Illyarians aren't trained for war – they're trained to take care of the village! Why don't you use the Illyarians that are in warrior camps? Isn't that what they're there for?! To be a goddamn warrior?!" But nobody defended him. Selene caught his eye, holding onto his gaze tightly.
"Do you accept this, Selene?" Her husband's voice said. He felt so far away – so distant. She looked at him, her mouth wide.
"Ex-excuse me?" She managed to say. He smiled but his eyes, his cold, dark eyes, glared at her.
"As his wife, you have to verify his agreement for war in order to secure the monar-"
"NO!" Selene shouted. And just like that, the entire room took in a breath. Many of the men leaned back in their chair, as if trying to get as far as possible from the quarrel. Her husband glared at her, his lips snarled back. She turned to look at Jameson but even he looked taken aback. His eyebrows were perched up, not necessarily in disagreement but as if he was impressed. The corner of his mouth lifted up.
"My Lady," Leon said beside her, "I understand your emotions towards your village make you fear the outcome of your lord's decision, but-" She swerved to face him.
"My emotions? This will destroy my village-my home!" She shrilled suddenly. "I apologize if my emotions stop me from being blind to the issue here!" Leon growled under his breath.
"Do not fear for your-"
"Tobias, please, don't do this!" Tobias jumped from his chair, glowering above her.
"Stop talking," Leon whispered to her. "Stop fucking talking." But she couldn't look away from her husband. His stepped over her, his face blocking the ceiling.
"I think you may be ill, my love," Tobias insisted, though there wasn't a hint of worry in his voice. Instead, his dark eyes were boiling.
"I am not ill!" She insisted. "I'm against this. How could you possibly-"
"I think you need to lay down. Go to your chambers." And when the words hit her, the sudden dismissal of her presence, beckoning her away to her room like a child, was the moment that she realized that she, the wife of the most powerful man she had ever met, was absolutely powerless. She flinched back. She opened her mouth but then Leon's hand grasped her wrist tightly, pulling her away from the table. She ripped her hand away hastily.
"Of course," she heard herself choke out, shuffling out of her chair and as she walked out, not daring to look back at the countless eyes watching her. Tears swam in her eyes because she had, once again, lost everything.
~*~*~discidium~*~*
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in. She was halfway up the spiral staircase when she heard the rushing feet behind her. Breathe out. Breathe in, breathe-
"If you're expecting me to apologize-" But then she stopped. Jameson skidded in front of her, a sly smile on his face. She scowled at him.
"Oh, it's just you," she spat, swerving around and strutting up the spiraling stairs again. To her greatest dislike, he didn't turn around.
"I came to follow you. I must admit, you left quite the silence. I don't think I've ever seen the High Lord so furi-"
"Oh, would you shut up?!" She snapped. She had made it to the third floor and as she turned to face him once again, her face filled with redness and her hands clenched, she snarled. "You made me look like a fool!" Jameson blinked at her stupidly.
"And how did I do that?" Jameson asked innocently. She shook her head at him.
"Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about!" She snarled before continuing her walk towards her bedroom.
"I have absolutely zero idea what you're talking about. I was merely-"
"Well, firstly, you can't even get your bloody name right, Owain," She said, stopping at her bedroom door. His eyebrows went up.
"If you'd let me explain-"
"Oh, bugger off!" She said, stomping into her room dramatically and attempting to slam the door on his face but he caught the door easily. He walked in with an elegant strut and closed the door firmly behind him. She rolled her eyes.
"What? You actually have something to say to me?" She asked. Jameson leaned against her bedpost casually, catching her gaze through the mirror as she stomped towards the dresser and began to shed off the many layers of sashes.
"Would you have talked to me, Selene? If you knew my name, would you have talked to me?" Jameson said seriously, his arms crossed. "No, you probably wouldn't have. You probably would have given me the middle finger." She let out a mirthless chuckle, turning to face him once again. She was squeezing the bundle of sashes so tightly in her palm that she could feel her fingernails dig into her palm.
"And I'm assuming now you knew that I was the wife of the High Lord?" She said through her clenched teeth. He shrugged nonchalently.
"The only woman who is allowed in the meetings is the wife of the High Lord," Jameson answered evenly. "It wasn't too hard to deduct. Don't take it personally." And then she closed her eyes, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She was dumb – a fool to believe that she could ever trust anybody in the palace. Of course, she thought, nobody but the representatives themselves would be allowed into the meeting. How could she be so stupid? So niave?
"Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be at the high and mighty meeting?"
"Because, Selene," Jameson said slowly, inching towards her as she rested against the dresser. "This whole damn place needs a hero." She squinted at him.
"A hero? And you think that's me?" She asked, her eyebrows rising. "I hate to break this to you, but I'm not a hero. I'm just a girl. A stupid girl from a village that obviously doesn't belong here. After what I just did, I am dead to them." Jameson tensed, his eyes twinkling.
"You can't leave," he told her sternly, taking long strides towards her. "You have a job. A duty-"
"I don't owe them anything," she said, stepping towards him as well. She could feel his breath tickle her face as he leaned towards her.
"Don't-"
"What the cauldron was that?" Leon stormed in her room suddenly, her door opening with a bang. His bloodshot eyes nailed on her before flickering to Jameson, his jaw tightening. "And what are you doing here?" Jameson shrugged nonchalantly, stepping towards the door.
"Just speaking to Selene-"
"You did this didn't you?" Leon growled, growing close to him. Jameson was smirking. "She's just a girl, Jameson. A girl." Jameson looked at him up and down for a moment, his golden eyes twinkling.
"She's our lady," Jameson corrected, "and I merely told her that it was a collaborative discussion. I didn't expect our lord to be so sensitive over a woman's opinion." Leon shook his head angrily, his face so furious that it was beginning to turn red.
"You made her look like a fool!" Leon's voice rose.
"Or are you afraid that I made your lord look like a fool?" Jameson countered. Leon's mouth opened quickly but nothing came out. Jameson nodded his head towards Selene, taking advantage out of Leon's silence. "Be wary of this one, Leon. She's stronger than she looks." He then stepped around Leon bravely, walking into the doorway. Before he left her vision though, he tossed his head around his shoulder and met her eyes.
"They think that they're superior but they're just people, Selene. Don't let their crowns fool you." And then without a second glance, he walked away calmly. Leon was nearly shaking in anger when he turned back towards her.
"You-"
"Get out." A new figure had walked into the doorway. Both Leon and Selene had turned towards the voice with a sharp exhale. Tobias was leaning against the frame casually, his crown now off his head. She met his eyes, which were no longer blazing but unexpectedly calm. Silence barred the room for a second, but then she nodded.
"Of course," she said. She went towards her closet, hoping to snag a coat before she was banished from his creepily beautiful home, until his voice stopped her again.
"I wasn't talking to you," he said irritably. She turned around, seeing as his eyes hit Leon's. "Leon, get out." Leon bowed his head.
"My apologies. I didn't mean to cross lines-"
"But you did. Now, get out." Leon, though grudgingly, walked through the doorway, casting Selene an angry look. Tobias's eyes glared at Leon threateningly and didn't tear his eyes away from his direction until she heard the front door of the mansion open and close with a slam. Her lord turned towards her again and immediately, her hands flew up in surrender.
"I'm leaving, alright?" She said, no longer caring about the tone in her voice. "No need to banish me or threaten to cut off my head." But Tobias merely gave her a smile as he closed the door. A chill went down her spine as he leaned against the closed door. She couldn't tell if he was leaning against it nonchalantly or if he was trying to block her exit. Either way, it made her squirm.
"Why is it every person I want to leave pick such a fight but the one person I don't want to leave is willing to leave so easily?" He chortled, a smile on his lips. She couldn't find the energy to smile back. He must have noticed the hard look on her face because he let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair in exasperation.
"Look, Selene-"
"There are forty boys in my village," she said, her voice cracking as she took a step in his direction. "Forty. And the majority of them don't even know how to pick up a sword, yet you just basically ended their lives just so one of your council members would quit whining. How is that fair?" He tossed his head back, giving her a light, mirthless laugh.
"You really think I'm going to do that? You really think I'm following through with that promise?" He said, his palms out. "Selene, I do not plan on giving him those boys. Why in the world would I do that? War is coming and even if I wanted to, I can't waste a single Illyarian." She huffed.
"I doubt that," she scuffed, "you just promised a council member, a vow-"
"And I'm high lord," he growled. "I can change my mind any time I want, no matter what kind of vow I give. Why do you think Leon was so determined to silence you? He knows that I don't plan on giving those boys away. You know what's going to happen? Bernard is going to go back to his pathetic town, go to his hut where his messengers are and right there waiting for him will be a signed letter of me changing my mind." Her eyebrows furrowed down.
"But you can't just fall back on your promises all the time. People won't trust you and therefore won't respect you. It'll make your reign weak-"
"Unless I give them food," he said, the hard look forming over his face again. "My land, the lands that are under my rule, are very very cold. You should know how hard it is to get food. If I give him more food in return, there isn't anything he can say." She tilted her head.
"You use human necessities as a weapon?" She asked. He rose his chin.
"Yes," he said, his tone harsh, "That's how ruling works, beautiful Selene. You do awful things and you get great consequences. Anyone who argues with that is a damn fool." She waited for it to hit – the disgust to fill her body that the man she is married to, the man she is mated with, has been practically starving his people for power. But it never hit. She realized quite suddenly, for the first time ever, she could care less about the rest of the world. She only had the ability, the capacity, to worry about her village.
"You won't touch those boys?" She asked again, her voice wobbly as she stepped closer to him. "Promise me. And not one of those fake promises. A real promise." His eyes were flashing up and down her, his nose flared.
"You demand a promise? I am your high lord. I don't have to promise you anything."
"And I am your wife. That's the one vow that you cannot break," she heard herself say. While his eyes flashed, anger rising in his face, he didn't move. He held her gaze tightly, so tightly that it was unnerving.
"I won't touch them until the war comes," he said gruffly. She stopped walking towards him, only a few feet away. He had looked away stiffly, turned towards one of her walls like meeting eyes with her would only make him lash out. He looked broken, she noticed. His eyes, dark as night, were hollow and cold and he didn't inch closer to her. But then his eyes looked down, finding her gaze. They were dark, yes, but they had some emotion to them. Mostly anger, but there was something else. It was so twisted into the darkness that she couldn't figure it out. At least not now.
"Thank you," she whispered, her words falling into the world emptily. It didn't seem to catch him, as he didn't seem swayed by the gratitude. It was beyond him, she realized.
"Don't ever say thank you to me," he reminded her, his voice sharp. Though her eyebrows were furrowed down, she nodded. Her eyes flickered towards the window quickly. It was bright outside, cold but bright.
"What were you talking about earlier?" Tobias interrupted, clearing his throat. "If I may ask? You know, about those marriage activities?" She flushed quickly, waving her hand.
"Don't worry about it," she said, nervously. "It was just-it's nothing." But he shook his head.
"Your village was barbaric, Selene," he told her, "I don't want you thinking that I would ever agree with any of their traditions. They treat each other like scum and treat their women even worse. Whatever they make you do, whatever a woman has to do to prove their marriage bond, is not something you have to do here. I will never ask you to do it." Her eyebrows flicked up.
"You don't want heirs?" And then her look of surprise reflected back at her, as the stern look on Tobias's face vanished instantly.
"What do you mean heirs?" He asked, snarling the word. "Wait, have you been talking…" And then she felt her whole body warm with embarrassment, quickly realizing that they were certainly not on the same page.
"Sex," she managed to say. "I thought it was a universal tradition. Having sex the night of, I mean, and since we didn't exactly have time because we only got back here at day break, I didn't know if…" But then he bellowed. Not a cruel laughter, or a mirthless slaughter, but a truly humored string of laughs that rang around her room joyfully. She crossed her arms across her chest awkwardly until his laughs died out.
"Sex," he said back, "you've been talking about sex? I've been dodging that question all day thinking that I'd have to do something ridiculous like cut off one of your nipples for purity sacrifice or burn your vagina with an iron. I didn't know you were talking about sex." But when he noticed the stone-like look on her face, he stopped laughing. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, failing to hide his suppressed smirk.
"No," he replied, "sex isn't…despite my relations with Rosalie, I do believe that sex is intimate, at least to an extent. It shouldn't be forced. And I know…" His eyes scanned her body wistfully, not bothering to hide his lust while he analyzed her every feature.
"I don't want to be with someone who doesn't want me, and despite me being the most powerful person in the world, I know you still aren't comfortable," he said, honestly. "And heirs…that is an entirely different topic for an entirely different time." She considered arguing, insisting that she owed it to him, but she ended up nodding.
"I just need time, my lord."
"Tobias," he corrected sharply. "My name is Tobias. It will always be Tobias to you, Selene." He began to walk towards her this time, only stopping when she could feel his breath on her face. Her eyes fell to the ground quickly.
"I know you are not fully ready but may I at least kiss you, Selene?" She heard him ask, and there was a crack at the end of his words. She looked up at him again, blinking. But then she saw how is body, when she hesitated, had stiffened. He cleared his throat deeply, tipping back on his heels. It looked like, for just a moment, like he was choking. Her hand went out towards him instantly, grabbing onto his body.
"Tobias, your face. You're losing color. Are you-"
"I asked if I could kiss you, Selene," He reminded her, his words nearly a demand, "May I-" But then she leaned up on her tippy toes and met his lips with hers. She expected it to be cold, just like his tone, but instead his lips were burning. Like he was alive, for just that one kiss. And as he pressed further, pulling her to him, she could feel his heartbeat pulse through his lips. She could feel everything about him - how his gruff hands too hold of her, how his lean body leaned against hers, how he refused to breathe until she let go. He wasn't cold and cruel like she had thought. He was like fire and ice. He was too passionate to be merciful.
When she opened her eyes again, he was looking at her like she was everything he had been searching for.
"I want to give you everything, Selene. But I don't have everything. Not right now, at least," he said with a sigh. "I know I am not easy to love, I know it's difficult to understand me. But you, you will never be a victim of my cruelty. You will never be hurt by me. If you just give me one chance, one shot." And as she looked at him, someone who she knew didn't deserve forgiveness. She wasn't niave - there was a reason why people feared him. Someone who had probably killed a load of innocent people, who had been unfair to many. But as she thought about it, as her lips still pulsed from his warmth, she found that she didn't care. She needed someone who used their power, who punished people like Hunter.
"As long as you understand that my wings, my wings will never be removed no matter who demands it," she said back. He didn't smile at her but she saw the happiness in his eyes, the exhilaration.
"A deal's a deal," he said.
~discidium~
I apologize greatly that I haven't posted in a while. I need some reviews in order to keep this coming though. Any opinions?