Chapter Text
Aggressive clacks of quick-paced footsteps rang through the hall. The sound jolted the unsuspecting night guards, drawing their once bored attention to the sound. Their eyes flitted around, trying their best to see in the black. The only light source in the hall was the moon shining through the palace windows, casting gentle shadows on the polished slate floor.
In a moment, the source of the sharp echoes rounded the corner to face the keepers. Her heels stopped a few feet from them as she stared expectantly at the obstruction. Without hesitation, the sentries bowed and pushed open the heavy wooden doors, allowing the woman entrance to the chamber within.
She did not much more than nod before making her way through the threshold. Her insistent footsteps still clicked, muted greatly by the scarlet of the isle runner. The carpet was framed on both sides by endless arcades, reinforcing the vaulted ceiling. She wondered if they would be enough.
Magical creatures and wars of the distant past constructed the ceiling and the walls. Goblins and dwarves, nature nymphs and many various sprites donning war gear, headed into the center of a battle to die for a corrupt king who cared not about their lives which he took as a sacrificial gift. The architectural sculptures once shone with the brightest, most vivid pigments. It was enough to serve as a half-assed attempt at honoring the lives lost. Now the scenes were faded and worn down. It seemed the artists were not so well versed in preservation-or at least not so worried about it. Pathetic.
It seemed like ages before the relentless tapping of footsteps ceased. The fae came to rest before the foot of the wooden throne. Gold tendrils climbed up and away from the seat, framing the velvet in ecstatic sun rays during the day. In the night, she thought they more represented vines twirling round, dragging the seat down into the depths of hell. The choice was made not to scale the steps-not because she was afraid, but because she wanted to try her absolute hardest to exercise tact. However, it did take an unreasonable amount of effort not to scream into the face of the man sitting before her. She was not acknowledged. Her near black eyes traced the filigree details of the golden throne, then the pathetic slump in the shoulders of her counterpart.
He sat, one leg over the arm. His elbow rested upon his thigh, face in his hand. He was certainly in a grandiose mood. The fae could tell by the way her entrance was completely ignored. His golden crown was encrusted with precious gems and slid forward awkwardly on his head. The ring looked like it might slip all the way off. She wondered what reaction she’d earn by knocking it onto the ground. Better yet, what if she placed the circlet atop her own head?
She reminded herself to sound pleasant and shifted her weight, clearing her throat. Nothing. With a huff, she dropped the act. ‘That strategy lasted all of four seconds’
“I don’t suppose you’ll ignore me all night?” At least this caught his attention. A bored brow lifted as his crystal eyes flicked up to meet hers.
“I hoped that you might allow it,”
“Sorry to foil your plans,” The woman outstretched her arm. Yellow parchment-cast gray in the low lighting-swayed slightly in the drafty air of the throne room. “You’ve got mail,”
The king released a dissatisfied huff, but he dragged himself into a proper sitting position and snatched the letter from her tanned hand. His eyes trailed over the script, wrought with disinterest. After a moment, the royal rolled his eyes and held the paper in the air, insinuating that she take it back.
“I said I wanted to hear no more of this,”
“Sire, we’re hemorrhaging. He is asking for an end to this stalemate-a chance to make things right. To form allegiance-”
“Things will never be made right!”
The bare state of the walls, and the accompaniment of a fist slamming on the wooden arm of the throne amplified the shout through the air. Her eyes traced the floral imprints on the tanned leather of his vest to keep her grounded.
“Maybe so. But we have been so secluded these centuries-”
“Why would I strike a trade deal with an enemy!”
“He is only your enemy” That stare could cut through stone, unwavering, intense. She might be afraid if she wasn’t so indignant. Her weight shifted and she took a clarifying breath. Now was the time to use a gentle hand. “Sire, people have never been more unwell. Dying of curable illness and famine. Vegetables are good and fine, but what is that to fuel bodies without game to keep them strong? For the sake of the gods, there are children who have never tasted the juice of a peach-”
An amused chortle filled the chamber.
“Have peaches always been the answer to civilian morale? We don’t need anything Drenad has to offer. We have done without for a long time. We will continue to do without,”
An air of animosity washed over her. It was obvious to the prying eyes of the monarch.
“How can you say that?” Her thick lips pursed; Her tone took on a dangerous waiver. “We don’t have the medicines we need, we can’t get them!” Her fiery attitude was met with his own. She thought it funny that he ever thought he could intimidate her.
“We have herbal gardens just the same as the other side of the border!”
“We have almost none. Certainly not enough to sustain the whole of Koda! You can’t argue with what you’ve seen for centuries. The land you’ve cleared of crops only keeps overtaking the medicinal gardens you try in vain to establish. They’re weak at best-withered and weeping. Magic does not cater to your will. It never has, Marin. It never will. Isn’t that why we’re in this predicament in the first place?”
A nerve was struck, and she knew it when she said it. Marin threw himself out of his chair, descending the steps, coming nose-to-nose with his mistress. Outrage shone bright on his features. She showed no reaction to the aggression he displayed, capturing her face with a gloved hand. She could feel the bruises form under his fingertips as he spat in her eyes.
“You are self-serving in pushing for this. I don’t know what angle you have but I know unseelie when I smell it,” His voice was quiet. It sank into her bones as a warning, but the woman did not crumble under his threatening stare.
“There is no angle. I want to help civilians-”
“Bullshit!” He demanded. The king looked her up and down, thinking of all the ways he could hurt her, take her down a notch, put her in her place. His angry sheen of sweat stuck a coil of chicory root hair to his forehead “I don’t know why you think you have any say in these matters. I don’t know what you’re doing accepting my personal correspondence. I knew it would go to your head to ask your thoughts-one time I did and now you think you’ve fallen into power. Do you think I will coronate you? Give you a crown? Ha! Restructure your mindset. You are nothing but a whore that fills my time. Do you understand me?”
The caramel blonde woman suppressed a smirk. She supposed it wouldn’t be very productive to call his bluff. Instead, she said nothing. She did nothing except breathe in the silence and his breath washing over her face. With time, his grip softened, and he spoke again. His venomous voice erred just slightly gentler.
“If you want to help, then do your part, and do it as I say. We can end this. Not by compromise, but by taking his kingdom out from under his unsuspecting nose,” Her brow quirked in curiosity. The sparkling, mischievous smile she got back was worth the bruises on her jaw. “Ah. I thought you might want to play,”