Hello Readers! here is the next chapter and I do hope you will like it. This one answers a lot of questions and also, what kind of a writer would I be if I didn't intrigue you guys further by creating more questions which need answers. Evil but the good kind of evil.
Now, a few readers have pointed out the inaccuracies in the story, for example how Tywin Lannister should still be the Hand and he resigns farther down the story line. But, I need to make something clear, everything will not be as exact as the books. There will be many changes. Call it the butterfly effect like my friend does or alternate universe. Maybe the croon's intervening changes things, or maybe Rhaegar's decision to be the change he wants to see turn things upside down and around or maybe it is the introduction of my OC that messes everything up.
Regardless, things will be changed according to suit my plot line. Events will be changed, timings will not match and most importantly, people, their personalities and their actions will change. Deaths will not happen or happen, couples will be kept the same, or broken up, or odd matches made, things will be different than the original details in the books.
I know this might sound like I am ranting but I am not. Honestly all I am trying to do is explain that this is my first time doing this. By this I mean, the whole go into the past and change the course of history theme. So I thought I needed to explain why there are so many changes and things not according to what you guys were expecting. I know things will be confusing sometimes, but even my OC won't be spared. For her sometimes nothing will make sense, because what she knows and what she experiences will be two very different things.
I wanted to also explain that while certain things, events, details and instances might seem like a mistake, it is most probable that I made those changes deliberately to suit my plot line. Also, fair warning, I will be disappointing many people because I will be making very big changes in the lives of many of our favorite characters. Many favorite couples will also not come to be and many characters will show a completely different side to their true personalities. Again, all these changes will be explained as the story progresses and hopefully you will find it all logical because the story will progress that way.
I hope you will like my new OC. She can be quite a bit of a rude, stubborn, very angry, violent and yes, a bitch. I hope you enjoy it and Please Review. Happy Reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own A song of Ice and Fire...
His Secret Wisdom
Chapter Two
He was instantly worried. He was sure she must have hurt herself. Without a second thought and so much as a look at her face, he tried to reach at her to help her, "Pardon? Are you alright, my lady?"
The candelabra was lowered once more and it sent a cold shiver down his spine when he heard how weak and confused her soft voice sounded as she asked; where was the ferocious girl who threatened to bodily harm him, "Am I in Westeros?"
He had to ease her. He spoke clearly and reassuringly, "Yes, my lady. Are you not from here?"
He was more left feeling a deep feeling of concern, self-loathing and panic as he watched her bent figure shaking a little and quickly scurrying away from him. She couldn't go more than a foot away from him because she was in the corner of the chamber, but she made sure to keep a distant from him. He felt revulsion coiling in his stomach at himself because clearly she thought he was a monster. He swore to never put a woman in this position where a woman would think of him a monster, like so many women thought of his father.
Her voice was sharp, shrill and her words tumbling out of her mouth fast and harsh, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Viserys? Fuck, I swear to god I will rip your arms out if you so much as point a finger at me, Viserys. I will cut your tongue out before you can say, 'Don't wake the dragon', you pale haired bastard. I am not Daenerys, you bitch."
She was not making any sense and the ill feeling in his gut brewed like a storm, his instincts were screaming at him that what she spoke of was not nonsense, but a horrible truth. He was just as panicked as she was but he kept his calm mask on, he had to be calm to calm her. How could he possibly make her understand that he was not this Viserys and the monster she was accusing him of being. This monster was clearly someone she loathed and at the same time held a fear of.
He could hear her sharp breathing, she was swiftly getting up her defenses and he was sure that any moment now she would leap at him in an attack. This Viserys and this Daenerys she spoke of, clearly the former was the monster and the latter one of the helpless victims, because she was making it clear over and over again how she was nothing like this Daenerys.
What was freezing him from saying anything and so much as moving a muscle were some of her very specific words; the mention of dragon and his physical appearance, those were the very traits only common to Targaryens. No other person in all of the Seven Kingdoms had pale hair and had a connection to dragons. This Viserys was a Targaryen and of that he was sure of, but the question remained, who was Viserys? He was the prince of Dragonstone and he did not know of any Viserys Targaryen nor had he ever heard of a Daenerys.
Rhaegar pleaded softly, praying that his voice reached out to her once more, "My lady, please. Please calm down. I am not this Viserys you speak off, I swear to you. You are mistaking me with him."
There was a pause, then a sharp intake of breath. He hoped that he had finally broken her out of the fear she was slowly pushing herself into. She had to see that he wasn't who she thought he was. She had to see that she could trust his word and his honor. She had to see that he would not harm her.
After a few stunned moments of silence her voice came back and she fired one question after another, her voice firm and demanded a prompt answer to her inquiry, "Wait. What? Aegon, then? Aegon, is it you?"
Who was this now? Aegon? Another Targaryen he didn't know about? What did this one do? He had seen how easily the previous rigid tension and fear had slipped away from her as she asked him if he was Aegon rather than Viserys. This Aegon was clearly not a threat to her or at least she did not consider him to be. There was still plenty of wariness left in her. He felt frustrated that he was not making any progress with her. He swiftly swore to himself, if this Viserys came before him, he would do whatever it took to keep her safe from him and the same went for this Aegon.
He explained once more, and again he made sure he was sincere when said it, he could not afford to have any negative emotion in his voice which she could get even more suspicious about, "I beg your pardon, my lady. But you are mistaken once more. I am neither Viserys nor this Aegon you speak of. My name is Rhaegar Targaryen and I…"
She cut right in the middle of his words and Rhaegar couldn't remember a time when he was interrupted mid-sentence before. This stunned him into silence as did her shocked expletives, "Well, fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit. That in-fucking-sane old hag. What the fuck did she do? She really sent me to Westeros or I am really tripping on some awesome pain meds in the hospital. Fuck."
Gods of the old and new, her mouth knew no rest from the filth that she spewed and it did not offend him in the least bit. A part of him smiled when he heard her angry, sharp curses, it was a part of her. She was fearless, didn't care who thought what about her, she spoke what she thought and there was always something like fire burning in her words, bold, fierce, passionate and alive. She was nothing like the demure and flirty girls who held themselves as to how men wanted them. Her curses made her more impressive and fascinating to him. What kind of girl had that much confidence in the manner she spoke? She had bravado that men twice her age did not possess.
He did not know what this 'hospital' was or 'meds' for that matter. He assumed that these were things from where she came from. He made a mental note to ask her about it sometime in the future. He did get the reference to pain, if associated with her injuries and the croon, it was a logical conclusion that she was wondering if some herb or concoction was used on her to help with the pain which made her hallucinate, like the milk of poppy for example.
He smiled wryly and assured her, "My lady, if it is the blind cackling croon you speak of, then you are in Westeros and I may be of help to you."
He had generously offered his help and what any person in her position would have done was accept it graciously. She continued to adamantly boggle him and try her best to light his temper on fire. She was infuriating. Her reply had shocked him cold.
She threw back scathingly, her voice dripping poison, "Fuck your help. I don't need help from a selfish twit like you. Where the hell is Elia or did you leave her already for Lyanna?"
It was undignified and his years of training as a prince forbid it, but right then he was left gaping like a fish. He didn't know how to respond to theat. A large part of him exclaimed that she was mad, completely and utterly mad. But then he remembered this woman was sent to him by the old croon who was considered mad as well. This woman was lucid and like the croon talked of things which did not make sense. The croon was undeniably famous for her visions which came true and so whatever utter nonsense this woman spoke of at least had a little bit of truth to them.
Maybe she was confusing him with someone else once more. That could be it. He did not even want to consider those impossible, offending and utterly unbearable accusations that she threw at him. She was a lonely, injured woman under his protection, he would not be angry at her even if she was insulting him in such a manner. He had to be patient with her, even though he was frustrated and his temper flared out with the sheer unfairness of her words. It hurt that she would deem him so low and vile, that she could even think that he used women in such a manner, that he had no honor. She truly did not trust him and clearly had no intention of trusting him and that stung him and his pride.
He tried his best, but there was an indignant tone in his words, his honor demanded that he bury the baseless accusations made on him, "My lady, I do not understand. Why would you search for this Elia and Lyanna? Why would they be in my presence at this hour of the night? I assure you, I am an honorable man and because of your recent tragedy I am not taking any offense at your vile implications. I have never compromised any lady before and certainly never disgraced a woman by leaving her for another."
In the dark of the room and the storm howling outside he saw and heard her slap a hand with some force on the floor. She huffed and growled in exasperation and frustration, "Shut up. None of this is making any sense and you will do exactly what you are claiming not to do in the near future. You will leave a good woman for another because you will claim that it was for love. Your actions will bring ruin to uncountable good people."
Her words were like daggers to his heart. She continued to spit out venomously, "You are a self-centered, thoughtless, irresponsible, impetuous, shameless, insensitive, arrogant man who proved to be just another mad Targaryen by actions alone even if your sanity remains intact."
Rhaegar had enough of her. Amusement at bold words from a woman was one thing, keeping composure and having a heart of steel in the face of tragedy and grave circumstances was one thing, being the latest trick from the croon was one thing, but going this far with her malicious words and relentlessly attacking his honor and pride was going far too far.
His voice was like the sharp whip cracking through a silent room as he warned her coldly, "My lady, I ask you to mind your words. I have been considerate thus far and ignored your repeated offenses because you have gone through a very traumatic experience and because I know how frightening the blind croon can be. Be assured that I will not tolerate such words any longer and there will be consequences."
It was a match between two snarling and roaring bears. If one roared loudly, the other roared louder and the process continued. She spit back, angrier and surlier than before, her voice the very essence of Winter in the North, "Consequences my ass. If that blind old bat told me any grain of truth then I already know that you are tricked in some crazy way by her too. You will not condemn me or serve me with any punishment simply because you need me."
Despite the anger that burned in him, she managed to impress him once again. She was angry and seemingly throwing baseless malicious accusations at him, but if so then how did her brain work out such logic in the chaos of anger consuming her mind? She was right, he wouldn't hurt her or punish her. Not yet at least. She had a talent for reading in between lines and observing and assessing things.
He informed her darkly, "You place far too much worth on yourself."
She goaded him, "Really? You don't have that good of a poker face. Look me right in the eye and tell me you don't need me or my help."
He did not know what this poker face was but he assumed it was something in reference to when a person lied. He almost petulantly wanted to snap back that it was far too dark to look at her, just as it was too dark for her to see his face and tell him that he was lying. But the entire truth was that he needed her help just as much as she needed his. But she did not want his help nor his protection, but he needed to have her around because she was chosen by the croon and she had a purpose to serve, he was sure of it. Then there was the matter of her being the object of his fascination, he wasn't going to let go of that so easily. He needed his answers first.
He told her simply, "I need not do anything."
Her reply was fast and dripping with sarcasm, "Of course you don't need anything, but you do need me and you cannot lie about it and later on ask me for help because your pride would not let you."
Her words, no matter how true, were irritating him beyond no measure. She was pushing him too much and everybody in all of Westeros knew that it was a very bad idea to push a Targaryen too far. He retorted back frostily, "My lady, as far as I can tell it is your pride which needs to be kept in check as well as that awful tongue of yours. You need my help far more than I need yours. You are the one who is injured, alone and without any resource in this strange unknown world."
Her reply was as sharp and quick as a whip cracking, "You forget, you royal twit, I am not like those sniveling, fainting, delicate and beyond stupid women you are used to."
Rhaegar threw back uncaringly, having had enough and completely prepared to give her a taste of her own medicine, "I noticed and you have proved so time and time again in the few moments we have been acquainted. Yet, despite my continuous compassion, kindness, courtesy and forgiveness towards you, you are the one who throws accusations at me for actions I am innocent of and have not even dreamed of doing. You are the one who uses atrocious language at me while I try to comfort you. You are the one who has been condemning me from the moment you knew my identity yet I am more than willing to let go of each and every slander you make at me, each time you verbally besmirch my honor and not make you face the consequences of your actions as my honor demands it."
Everything was quiet and the silence between them thick with tension. Despite there not being more than a few footsteps between them, it felt like they were leagues apart. Rhaegar did not know what went inside her head, what she thought and how she felt but he knew one thing for sure, his words had hit their intended target. Her silence was more than enough to make him feel content as he waited crouched on the floor waiting for her response.
She was going over his words, swallowing their meaning and the truth behind them. If her temper was anything to go by, he had to be prepared for a very violent outburst. Because his words couldn't possibly do anything to her except hurt her ego and make her temper boil over. He couldn't even see her face to determine her mood. He blinked once; actually all he had seen and taken note of was her unusual eyes. He didn't even see her face, only those molten gold eyes.
Molten gold wasn't as beautiful as it looked; it was gold and it was precious, it inspired greed and mesmerized one with its natural beauty, but it was all deception for molten gold could never be achieved, it burned one's skin right through to reach within. She was like that as well, all fire and not quite what she seemed. She was not soft and malleable like the other women; she was strong and ferocious to a point of violence. Rhaegar mused, one could only watch her from afar; get too close and she would burn them irreparably.
Once more that most prominent trait of hers shined through; that trait being her unpredictability. Instead of snarling at him in rage, spitting fire and scratching his eyes out like a cat, she huffed. She huffed in the grumpiest manner Rhaegar had ever heard from anyone and grumbled petulantly, "Fine. So maybe I went a little over board with all the things that make you one of the characters I dislike, but that does not mean that what I said was any less untrue. It was all truth, but I guess I could just be a bit civil with you and not say what I truly feel."
Rhaegar had to blink a few times and even resisted the urge to punch himself, did she just, could she possibly have, was that some twisted form of apology? He couldn't help it and his lips twitched into a grin. It was an apology, at least the closest apology he could have ever hoped to get from her. She had not taken offense to his words and actually listened to him. She compromised in her own way and that gave him hope. Hope for a truce and possibly for a future alliance.
He decided to take a different method than behaving exactly as she did. Heated words and vile accusations would not make her amendable let alone make a bridge between the two of them. But that also did not mean that he would be entirely too soft on her and let her walk all over him. He needed to get an edge over her, maybe reach her through logic and steer her with words.
He kept his voice even, soft and made damn sure that his voice dripped with disappointment, "My lady, what you accuse me of, I haven't done yet, so it is all false to me in this moment. I pray that it will always remain false to me. I would never be a dishonorable man and bring such disgrace to not one but two women. I never want to treat any woman like that, believe that much if nothing else of me."
After a few moments of tense silence where Rhaegar held his breath finally hoping that his sincerity reached her, a soft sigh reached his ears. In the darkness of the night, he couldn't and didn't stop the grin from spreading wide across his face as he heard her grumble, "Damn you. You can guilt trip better than an Irish-catholic mother. I am not going to feel guilty though. I am right in my way and you are right in yours. So there, a stalemate."
In that very instant he felt giddy. He felt the same frisson of satisfaction, pleasure and pride he usually felt when he achieved something he worked hard for. He had just achieved something monumental as well. He had laid the very first stone of foundation in whatever this association with this strange ferocious woman would be. Their partnership had just begun and he had somehow managed to come to a little civility with her. She was still plenty defensive and paranoid, but the constant rage had cooled a little.
He almost laughed out loud, but forced himself not to. No need to agitate the easily irate girl any further. He didn't mean to guilt her, but he understood her comment about certain mothers guilt their children into doing certain things. He didn't know what this Irish-catholic was, but he assumed they were a people of some location she knew of. She was stubborn and he mused, it wasn't unattractive at all; it had its own appeal and he liked how everything about her was not easy at all.
He said to her softly and as charmingly as he could without coming off as too strong or gods forbid flirtatious to her, "I am very happy with that. I only want for there to be not so much hostility between us, my lady. I would hate it for you to not speak your mind and your feelings. Please speak to me freely, only with a little less hostility and a little more chance for me to prove myself before you condemn me."
For the first time since she came to be in his chambers, her voice was devoid of all that boiling anger. She conceded and apologized, "Whatever. I guess I am sorry for making you feel like you would hurt women. That wasn't right of me to make you feel that low of yourself. You might be selfish and a womanizer later on, but you will never be violent and hurtful to a woman. If nothing else, you will never become like your father, Rhaegar Targaryen. You aren't mad and you aren't cruel."
Her words, although not the most conventional of apologies, still acted like a balm to the wounds she had inflicted to his pride and honor. For some reason, he felt lighter and that constant self-loathing and insecurity about becoming a man like his father eased considerably when she told him confidently that he was nothing like his father. He felt overwhelming relief that even if she didn't trust him with anything else, she trusted him not to harm him in all the heinous ways a man could harm a woman. So she knew with complete surety that he was nothing like that Viserys she talked of before.
He was not mad and he was not cruel, her words echoed in his head and he smiled. There was also that small matter of fact that he liked very much how his name sounded from her lips. He really did want to see how her lips formed his name.
She sounded firm and sincere, the sweet voice was like caresses to his spine; he mused, she can sing, songs of hope, melancholy, love, stories, life, lullabies and of course, seduction. He smirked a little; her voice was made for whispering sweet nothings in one's ears in passion and begging for even sweeter release while being tormented in the most delicious of ways. How ironic was it that a woman with that kind of voice, a voice that is capable of stirring a man's passions, never says a soft word. She used her words to cut men open and watch them bleed as she breathed fire like a dragon.
He answered her with a large grin that she couldn't see but hear in his voice, "I accept your apology, my lady."
There was a snooty sniff and then true to her form, she snipped back, "But you are arrogant."
He grinned even wider; there she was, back breathing fire. He was very pleased to know that her soft and warm moments were very rare and completely against her ferocious personality and he had been the one to witness and share such a rare and intimate moment of hers. No matter, he would find many more moments such as that, his curiosity regarding her was only increasing by every passing moment and every heated or otherwise word exchanged.
He replied back charmingly, not the least bit offended, "I suppose that comes with the territory of being who I am. You seem to know a lot about that."
She drawled, "You mean how you are the crown prince and all that jazz."
He didn't know what this jazz was; he observed out loud, "You have an odd manner of speaking and I do mean that as a compliment."
She snorted, not the least bit charmed or offended and argued back, "No, you mean that as an oddity and just that. Nothing complimentary about it. Work on your diplomatic skills, man. Is this how you are going to speak to an emissary who comes to your kingdom from another kingdom or like myself, another world?"
He really liked how her mind worked. How she argued passionately and how utterly fearless she was, he couldn't help but be intrigued. There was not another woman like her in all of Westeros, at least not that he knew of. His mood was not going to be ruined by anything she said. Now he knew her character and how being prickly was a part of her personality and most of what she said she meant it. He was far too ecstatic from her apology not a moment ago and that declaration of how she knew his character to be not of a vile man who hurt women for his satisfaction. Her trust in him and this truce forming between them had brightened his mood too much for him to scowl.
Besides, she always threw back a few criticisms for every seemingly nice word she spoke. He teased back, "Many apologies then, my lady. I will work on fixing myself."
She huffed, "See that you do, Targaryen."
How bold of her, throwing orders at the crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms. His lips twitched to smile at her; gods he hadn't smiled this much in weeks and she had managed to do it with her barbed words and downright stinging insults. He pointed out fairly and again, as charmingly as he could, "The fact still remains, you know who I am and many things about me, I am at a disadvantage, my lady. I do not even know your name."
She retorted without even the slightest of pauses, "With who you are and the life you have, you are at a crap load of disadvantages. Not knowing anything about someone like me is the least of it."
He smirked; she had an answer for everything and never gave in. He smiled mischievously and flirted back, "Be that as it may, I would still like to know the name of the fair lady who possesses such intimate knowledge regarding myself."
There was aggravation and frustration in her voice as she demanded, "Why do you need to know my name? I am not going to stick around here for much longer. I need to get home."
For a moment his heart ached for her and all he could feel for her was compassion. Despite her fearlessness and unbreakable strength, even those fiery words could not hide how she was in fact a girl alone in an unfamiliar place and the truth was that she wanted to go home as it was her right. She was taken by force and she was far from accepting it.
She was going to fight against the croon and her powers, being scared of the croon was not something she would do let alone give in to the croon. He admired her spirit. Still he had to reach out to her, comfort her, explain it to her, because the truth was that she was not going anywhere until whatever the croon had planned came to pass, "My lady, I don't think the croon has planned such a short trip for you."
She snorted dismissively, "Like I would ever do what someone else plans for me to do."
He agreed wholeheartedly and explained pleasantly, "I understand. I assure you I feel much the same way, my lady. The croon also has something planned for me but tells me nothing but befuddling riddles."
Rhaegar couldn't help but chuckle when he heard her let out a little growl of exasperation. She snapped, although not angry at all, just a little irritated, "You need to seriously stop with the 'my lady' bit. It's getting on my nerves."
He decided he quite liked getting on her nerves, it was far too amusing. He felt mischievous, which was odd because he never felt like just teasing around someone for the sake of enjoying it. His life had always been far too solemn with a lot of responsibilities and pressure on his shoulders and with the darkness of his father's shadow, he never did quite laugh as much as any other man.
He learned that she didn't quite have the patience for flirtations and charms. His overtly polite ways, honeyed words, flirtations and charms made her irate. He couldn't help but smirk wickedly at the future prospect of teasing her with this very ammunition. He asked her sweetly, "Oh. What would you prefer I call you by then? Perhaps by your given name."
His throat tickled with a laugh when she hissed at him, "You're a persistent twit, aren't you?"
This time he replied without any hesitation, leaving behind his years of etiquette and propriety lessons, "Persistent, yes. Twit, no. May I offer my assistance to get you seated to a much comfortable seat? Perhaps a cushioned chair as opposed to the cold floor?"
He let out a sharp breath of incredulous laughter after she deadpanned, "Yes, that would be doing a much appreciated favor to my ass."
He asked dryly, yet amusement shone through his voice, "You like scandalizing people, don't you?"
She replied back solemnly, "Just like you like suffocating people with your oozing teeth-gritting and thoroughly unnecessary decorum. I prefer blunt and honest words as opposed to honeyed words with hidden meanings and even worse hidden intentions."
His lips quivered to smile, yet the deep implications of her last statement made his heart clench for a moment. She would hate politics. But despite that, her initial comment tickled his playful side which lay dormant within him for years. He would make it a personal mission to tease her and rile her up with his, how did she put it, ah yes, oozing teeth-gritting and thoroughly unnecessary decorum. He agreed with her, he valued honesty above all else as well, "Indeed."
He set the candelabra aside, and because it was his chambers and he was very familiar with every inch of the room, he walked slowly and confidently over to her making sure to make noise and not startle her or worse yet, send her into a complete defense. He did not want her to get hurt further on the account of trying to needlessly fend him off with physical assaults. His stomach churned unpleasantly at the thought of restraining her physically.
Just as he was near her and about to lean over and offer her his assistance to carry her to a more comfortable seat, she snapped, "I can get up by myself and can walk on my two feet. I don't need you to treat me like an invalid."
He noticed something he hadn't noticed before; she smelt sweet. So heavenly sweet, some kind of spice which tickled his senses sensually and made his mouth water; for the life of him he couldn't guess what she smelt like, all he knew was that she was doused in that scent and he felt like drowning. He was dazed and for a moment all he could do was close his eyes and breathe in deep. He swiftly shook it of or at least tried to, his mind was going very quickly to the worst path possible and he was far too honorable to ever go there. He bit his lower lip to keep in a groan.
He opened his eyes to realize in through disgust and shame that while he was busy sniffing at her like a dog and having these shameful sensations, she in her weakness and such injury had stood up shakily with the support of the wall behind her. Rhaegar had never felt such blatant shame before, and he was grateful for the darkness, he knew he had turned red in shame like he was supposed to. Where did all his years of etiquette, proper manners and those vows and ways of knighthood gone, he berated himself in self-loathing and mortification.
He somehow managed to hastily retort and this time adamantly offer her his hands to hold, "I am doing no such thing. You are injured, I was offering my help and my propriety dictates for me to help a lady in need."
She let his hands hang between them as she declared indignantly, "I am the farthest thing from the usual breed of overtly sensitive, ridiculously delicate and materialistic minded ladies you are used to. If I need help from you, I will ask for it."
He spoke to her, his voice low, deep and earnest, "I noticed how unique you are. I am here to help, my lady. I will offer it even if you don't ask because I can also tell you are quite prideful and I couldn't bear it if you were inconvenienced or hurt further more on my account."
Still she did not take his offered hand, standing against the wall, trying to find strength in her to walk along side him. He decided not to move away and block her against the wall until she took his hand. Without his guidance, in the darkness she wouldn't be able to move in his chambers. He could be more stubborn than her and it was time she knew it.
She argued back, "Who said I was hurt because of you in the first place? I was hurt because I tried to help an old woman in the street from things which were attacking her even though I knew from before she was a raving lunatic."
Even though her pride and this strange sense of independence and iron defense she had around her was vexing him a little, especially because she was rejecting him and his help time and time again; he admired her more than before. She risked her life to help an old woman who from her own words could be derived that made her uncomfortable. Honor, he smiled at her warmly in the darkness, she had honor; something so very rare in women, especially the kind of honor which leads to risking one's life so recklessly.
He made another remarkable observation of her. The calmer she got, the less crude her language had gotten. His eyes tried to rake over the dark shadow where her face was, now she spoke like any other high-born lady, although the interesting words she chose, the passion in her voice, the cunning logic and the sheer intelligence in her arguments, the fearlessness in her, all of that set her apart from any of the high-born ladies he knew. He just knew it deep in his bones that every time she talked with such fire, she looked or in this case would look him right in the eye, the fire in her words reflecting in her eyes. He just knew it and the thought of fire burning in those golden eyes that he but only got a glimpse of before sent thrills of anticipation throughout his body.
He told her the truth that had been plaguing him since she appeared in his chambers, "Perhaps because she sent you here to me and in the process she has hurt you."
There was a low groan from her and she instantly berated him, "Seriously, man, you need to stop blaming yourself for every little thing. This habit of yours gets really annoying really fast."
Despite being scolded like a child, it warmed his heart to know how much unknowingly she exposed to him. It mattered to her that he felt guilt; guilt that she did not want him to be burdened with. He knew it then that even though she was angry, defensive, and uncompromising most of the time, she was going to going be an ally at some point. She had compassion, kindness, honor and she was clearly above average intelligence.
He teased, "I apologize once more then, my lady."
She huffed, "Okay, now I know you are just doing it to annoy me."
He answered honestly, "Only sometimes."
She retorted dryly, "Good god, the prissy prince setting his arrogance aside to be all playful, must be the end of the world."
He rolled his eyes at her, "I am not that bad."
She disagreed, "You are. You are very uptight and I just met you."
In her own way, she was teasing him or at least he hoped she was. He really could not tell if she was jesting or not. But he felt optimistic about finding out more about her, so much more that soon he would be able to read her very well. His fascination with her was really taking root in him and he had no problems whatsoever about it. Most importantly, his gut told him that she was going to prove to be a useful ally in his quest. How he knew that, he couldn't quite explain or understand himself. But he just knew it deep in his bones that the connection both he and his guest shared with the mad croon was something very significant. His guest was very much related to his problems. Now all he had to do was help her, keep her safe and figure her out while he waited on the croon's promised 'wisdom' to fall in his lap.
For now he was glad to be finally distracted from all his worries; he was finally free of that cloud of tension, stress and worry had eased considerably as soon as he found this enigma in his chambers. For the first time in a very long time his mind was intrigued by something and he felt something very close to passion and inspiration just as he met his fascinating guest. He felt lighter and surprisingly enough, his mood was a little jovial and playful as well.
In the very few moments he had known her, her presence was changing something in him and he was willing to bet that it had something to do with the croon and her mad ways. There was something of the croon's scheme brewing and simmering around them both. They had to ally themselves to each other in order to survive the journey he knew the croon had pushed them into.
His declared mockingly, "Then I fear I must abandon all my mercy and start to really annoy you at every waking moment, then and only then, you will abandon this accusation you have labeled me with."
There was a snort from her and then she deadpanned, "In that case, a fair warning, I will punch your teeth out."
He grinned wide in the dark.