Chapter 1: Blue Eyes
Chapter Text
His hair seemed soft, or rather, well kept. Once a light lavender, as he aged, the locks had deepened into a rich shade of purple, accenting his violet eyes nicely. One might have considered him handsome, or in some cases she had even heard, ethereal.
The princess snorted to herself at the thought, finally moving her eyes forward to the main road ahead. The Captain led her horse by the reins, his strides steady, vision always on the move for potential threats. Their conversation had been shallow since they left town, most likely due to the days of travel, the blazing sun, and the princess’s impending marriage to the neighboring Prince.
Their visits throughout the Kingdom had been merely for show, demonstrating to the people that their Highness was joyous, and of course, eager to wear a ring on her finger. Well into her second decade of life, she was used to the theatrics. She could have cared less about her future husband, the man had done nothing but cause her grievance after grievance, and she’d never even met him. But, the crowd could never tell.
Her eyes drifted to Rafayel once again, and she sighed, hoping to get his attention. She fought the smirk that threatened to lift the corner of her mouth when his head subtly tilted towards her, and she could see him looking over her form from the corner of his eye.
“Princess?” He inquired with an amused lilt to his tone.
“Nothing.” She mused, and tugged at the hem of her cloak. The fabric was worn and musky. “Just wanted to make sure you were still alert.”
“You wound me,” He responded as he grasped his chest as if shot by an arrow. “Are you by chance bored, Princess?”
Her boot found his side for a second, tapping him as a scolding. She knew the answer, she could tell by the way he pushed her boot back to rest against her horse. The man is in the exact same predicament as the princess.
“So,” she began, her tone casual. “What’s a kiss like?”
If she hadn't known him since they were young kids, she would have easily missed the falter in his step.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “We’ve always told each other everything. Do you know how disappointed I was to hear through maid gossip that you were courting the Blacksmith’s daughter at some point?”
His next chuckle was seductive, not a single tint of shame. Her thighs tightened against the side of the horse, an involuntary reaction of muscle. It was rare when his voice deepened, when she caught a glimpse of what past lovers may have experienced. While it was true they mostly told one another everything,their romantic escapades were never mentioned. Well, in her case, the lack of them.
“Raf.” She tried one more time whilst leaning over to poke his shoulder. When that didn’t work, she pressed her finger lightly to his cheek. He stopped.
The look she received was one of mischief. The fluid turn of his head had his nose merely an inch from hers. Unsure where to rest her eyes, his gaze held hers. When his stare made it difficult for her to think, let alone swallow, was hard to identify.
“Since when did the babble of maids interest the Princess?” He avoided, his warm breath tickling her dry lips.
She licked them.
His eyes dropped quickly on a sharp inhale, then his gaze slowly, ever so slowly, dragged back up. Tortured. That’s how he looked.
The princess’s lower back ached from the awkward position she held, her fingers clenching around the soft mane of the horse. The shuffle of hooves was loud, interrupting her thoughts as she returned to her previous position, sitting straight. She cleared her throat, and rolled her shoulders. The weight of his gaze was heavy.
“What brought this on?” Was his question, his voice abnormally serious. She still didn’t look at him, but she felt her horse begin to walk again.
“I’m nervous” She confessed truthfully. “The Prince is scheduled to visit next month. Negotiations are to begin.”
He hummed, acting as if he already didn’t know this. Rafayel was the Captain of the Guard, no one made a move without him knowing. The princess was sure he already had it planned where each Knight would be stationed the minute the Prince arrived. Hell, he already knew where the Prince’s personal guards would be staying.
“At some point, the Prince and I will need to . . .” She trailed off, her eyes back on Rafayel’s hair. She swallowed. “There are duties I need to fulfill.”
The clenching of his fist upset the leather of reins. He had always been protective, critical of any suitors that came before her engagement. The Kingdom’s future was his justification. When she was younger she truly believed such words, now, her chest warmed at his poorly disguised jealousy.
Rafayel was bold with his actions, confident in his words. He stood tall, and his subordinates held him in high regard. His expertise was masked by a facade of arrogance and sarcasm leading his enemies into a dangerous assumption. They underestimated him.
“If it’s a political union, sharing a bed, let alone a kiss, isn't required.” His voice brought her back to the present, and she turned just in time to see his hand wrapped around her covered ankle. He removed her boot gently from the stirrup and replaced it with his own. With a grunt, he lifted himself onto the horse behind her; the front of his thighs molded to the back of hers. Her feet hung loosely as he nudged the horse into a steady canter.
“Gotta move a lil faster.” His words were rushed, informality sneaking its way through his usual proper speech.
She nodded, suddenly attune to every breath she took. Could he feel her heart through her back? Can he feel her trembling? His scent enveloped her, rich and clean, a mix of the leather that protected him, and the ocean in which he came from.
She was aware of every inch of his body, every taut muscle that begged her to touch. She’d harbored such feelings for years, since her late teens, when she first spied his body drenched in sweat, a thin white tunic stuck to his skin, his forehead littered with strands of purple hair. A princess wasn’t allowed on the sparring grounds, where Knights trained and bled. No, she was required to remain safe, clean, and proper. God forbid a speck of dust from the training ground’s sand sullied her dress.
She had snuck out that day, eager to find Rafayel. The night before they had escaped in the middle of the night to a town festival. She had her first sips of alcohol while Rafayel cheered her on with a wide smile. They always got into trouble, his way of supporting her dismissed curiosity, yet they were never separated by castle personnel.
After the warmth of intoxication had worn off, the night chill assaulted her skin. Always a Knight, Rafayel had offered her his overcoat, which she had taken without hesitation. She had come to the grounds simply to return it. Something she thought at the time couldn’t wait.
She hid behind the side of the barracks, unaware he was not alone. His shoulders were rising and falling rapidly, accommodating his harsh breaths. His fingers were wrapped tightly around the hilt of his dagger, the sharp metal gleaming in the unforgiving sun. The fact it wasn’t sheathed told her he was sparring with a full-fledged Knight.
Pride had risen in her throat at that time, proud he was moving his way up the multiple ranks. Such innocent thoughts had vanished when he had dodged then rolled, landing in a crouch. One hand supported his weight in the dirty sand, while the other holding his dagger lifted to wipe the sweat off his forehead with his wrist. Everything shifted, her eyes focused on the sharp V of his loose tunic, suspended, exposing his chest. She even found the way his legs strained and his boots dug into the sand interesting. She was suddenly curious about things she shouldn’t be. More specifically, how he held his weight over someone.
The corner of a mouth touched the shell of her ear, and she gasped, her gaze focusing on the path cutting through the forest. The horse walked now, the sun low in the sky as day transitioned into night. They were near the castle gates.
“Relax,” he whispered, and that soft sound made sensitive skin tingle. “You’re trembling.”
“Cold.” Her voice was just as light as she imagined leaning back into him. It was a lie that protected both of them.
“Sure.” She could hear his amusement. Regardless, he scooted slightly closer. It was enough for the fabric of his clothing to brush against her shoulder blades. It would be dangerous for him to get any closer, especially as they neared the guards standing by the gates.
Green, transparent wings glistened behind the back of the guard standing to the right of the gate. His pointed ears were hidden under a dark hood, the tips created two, small bumps underneath the cloth. She didn’t remember the guard’s name, but he looked at her, weary.
He nodded his head to Rafayel, and opened the gate, allowing them to enter. Rafayel led the horse to the stable while the princess grew restless. Her time away from the castle had allowed her to bury any worries, to live in a fantasy where Rafayel and her solely existed as equals.
The Captain dismounted first, his hands clenching at his sides as she then dismounted on her own. Just a few days ago while they were traveling, his hands had held her waist to help her land. They had lingered, too. The air around them was restricting, the soft pitter patter of rain echoing off the roof as a light drizzle started. Torches were being lit by guards with the full absence of the sun. These guards were the unfortunate ones, the few who spent all night awake, stuck with a shift all should dread.
A stable hand grabbed the reins of her horse. The boy clicked his tongue, nodding to the princess quickly before leading the tired animal. The black horns atop his head were prominent against the light blonde of his hair. A dragon, if she didn’t know better.
Quietly, Rafayel led her through the castle halls. He walked a few paces ahead of her, much slower than his usual stride. He was exhausted, that much was obvious. It was only the beginning of his watch, he wouldn’t be able to close his eyes until morning tomorrow.
Laughter echoed in the main hall as nobles conversed. The door was closed, but she could clearly envision men and women drinking from crystal glasses, crimson red wine dark and plentiful. The bodies of these nobles were absent of what they would call abnormalities.
When the Captain and princess reached the door to her chambers, Rafayel turned to open the door for her, gesturing her in. He didn’t enter, nor did he say anything. His eyes looked to the ground as he waited for her to cross the threshold.
She reached and pressed her hand gently to his cheek, brushing her thumb lightly over the skin just below his eye. He leaned against her palm ever so slightly, breathing out slowly. As his eyes closed, his features relaxed, and she knew he wished nothing more than to sleep.
Any person could understand the misery of loss of sleep. She frowned and removed her hand, stepping into the chambers and closing the door. Her body fell slightly to lean back against it as she heard Rafayel take his post, right outside her door. There he would stand till she awoke.
She slid down till she hugged her knees to her chest. Mythical creatures were the ones who worked through the night, giving nobles the luxury of rest so they may rise the next day while those seen as inferior could finally sleep. Nobles could converse and socialize, meet with loved ones, and aid in running the Kingdom without the presence of a creature.
The princess’s head tilted to press the back of it to the door. She wouldn’t be seeing Rafayel until the next night. It wouldn’t take much to open the door and invite him in, aid him in removing outer wear so he might have laid his head down on her lap and rested. But he wasn’t allowed such a thing.
She thought back to the memory of him sparring. His opponent had bested him, and in a rare fit of anger, he had flung his dagger to the ground as he walked harshly into the barracks. Unable to help her myself, she followed, his overcoat in her hand. With his back to her, Rafayel had pulled his tunic over his head, throwing it onto a nearby table. His shoulders were tense, and his hand was running through his hair repeatedly.
She stopped just outside the door, leaning against the frame. Flecks of blue were on his neck, small patches of scales making their home against his skin. Without seeing his face, she already knew there were more clusters on his upper cheeks. The sound of her next step alerted him, and he whipped around.
“Silly girl.” He chastised, eyes darting behind her to make sure no one was around. Once he had confirmed they were alone, he met her stare.
And no matter how many times she had seen them, those blue eyes of his were stunning.
Yet so . . . defeating.
While beautiful, they had reminded her of what he was - a Lemurian. If he wanted, his legs could fuse into a tail, and his life wouldn’t stop underwater. She had seen it once when they were kids, when they didn’t understand he would be seen as something below her, something forbidden.
“So scandalous, watching me undress. Didn’t know you had it in you, Princess.” He had said with a smirk, sauntering till he stood in front of her, forcing her to raise her chin.
Not only were princesses to remain safe, clean, and proper, they were also taught to obtain whatever they wanted.
A bead of sweat trailed from his scalp, down his cheek, and curled over the bump of his jawline to slide over iridescent scales. The overcoat was on the ground, and her fingers were suddenly stopping the droplet, eyes fixated on her soft skin against the hard growths.
His hiss was sudden and heavy. Emboldened, she had pressed harder, outlining them with her finger. Rafayel, who usually had the advantage, was putty in her hands. He took another step closer, his fingers wrapped around her wrist to guide her touch.
“I like that.”
The blue in his eyes had grown stronger, hypnotizing just like his breathless tone. He wouldn’t let her look away, pulling her wrist past his scales to the nape of his neck, where the ends of his hair flared out. On instinct, her fingers grabbed, pulling strands between her digits gently.
She watched his reaction, his soft groan revealing teeth through parted lips. His canines were slightly sharper, dangerous. Their ability to bestow a mark, or maybe more, tempted her thoughts. As his head tipped back to relish in the feeling, he looked down at her, gaze so dark and inviting. She could see it in her mind, his back arched, eyes on her as she ventured further down.
“Rafayel.” She whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, their breaths intermingling. The composed princess was losing control, anxious but equally curious.
His hands found her upper arms, holding her in place. “You started this.”
Gods, his voice. She nudged even closer, the tip of her nose touching his. She wanted more. Her other hand rested on his neck, where her thumb could absently trace his jawline back and forth. She realized she could stand like this for hours, feeling his heat, allowing his breath to warm and moisten her lips. Imagining his lips on hers seemed even more delicious than the act itself.
“Whatever you want,” He nuzzled his nose against hers, his voice guttural, desperate, filled with restraint. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
“But what do you want?” She opened her eyes to meet his. She didn’t want this if he felt obligated due to her status, or his undying loyalty.
His nails dug into her arms, hands pushing her back till she hit the cold, stone wall. His hand found its place against the wall above her head, positioning him even closer. He parted her legs with one of his, resting his weight against his knee. His other hand gripped her chin, tilting it up so he could look down at her. His blue eyes, almost pulsating, narrowed.
“Sure you want to know?” It was whiplash, the change in his demeanor. That reflected him, though. One minute he would be impatient and pouty, the next sly and cunning. “I’ve spent years, Princess, years imagining us. Where would you like me to start? Should I tell you about how I can be a good, honest Knight, or a commanding Captain?”
She couldn’t tell what heated first, her cheeks, or her ears. His eyes roamed over her face, the corner of his mouth revealing a confident smirk. The princess was so easy to read. “Or, are you interested in both?” He asked.
Both, definitely both.
Before the words could leave her mouth, however, the sound of a sword sliding into its sheath signaled the entrance of another Knight.
The blue in Rafayel’s eyes receded, and she could see his expression change from one of intrigue, to one of an alert protector. The room they were in was around the corner from the entrance to the barracks so they were fine, unless the visitor rounded the hall. To be caught in the same room as a shirtless merman, would most certainly ruin the princess’s reputation.
Mind already working fast, Rafayel looked back to the princess. Her eyes were worried, but her skin was still flushed, and her lips were slightly parted as small, rapid breaths escaped her. It was enough to tempt his hand that held her chin, to lift, so his thumb could slide over her full, bottom lip.
Her response was her jaw relaxing, her mouth opening a little wider.
This couldn’t happen again.
His hand left her, lifting to remove her touch from his neck and lower scalp. Once there was space between them, he bent to lift his overcoat and threw it over his shoulders. He hid his smile as she still stood there, leaned against the wall, eyes following his every move.
“Careful, your Highness.” He adjusted the collar of her dress, the fabric slightly askew. “Stare any longer, and I might think you find me handsome.”
The usual fire returned to her eyes, and with a defiant huff, she found her feet again. She waited for his direction.
“I’ll keep him occupied.” Rafayel decided, his demeanor calm and comforting. “You get out of here while you can.”
She nodded, determined. Their shared moment faded, but the tension remained. And it would, for years to come. Constantly on the edge, always teetering to ignite. However, never satisfied.
That’s what she thought about as she sat against the door. How long she had recounted that memory was unbeknownst to her. Her mind lingered on the past sensation of his touch, his presence.
How would it be different now? Back then, in their late teens, they were both unsure of not only their situation, but themselves as individuals. She had no doubt he was probably even more sensual now, even more of a tease. His grip would be tighter, and he would only budge if he wanted it. Rafayel was toned and lithe, fluid like water.
His scales and Lemurian eyes hadn’t appeared in years. He had learned to reign in his emotions, only a flash of blue here and there, perhaps it was a trick of the light.
She could only guess that late in the night, when candles burned, and harsh breaths mingled, his eyes might change.
She shot up, grasping the skirts of her dress as she paced her rooms. Those thoughts were dangerous, and the right thing to do would be to stop. But they were also oh so delicious. Her delusions were fed every moment she saw him, his gaze only confirmed them, when she saw he fought to keep it off her mouth, when his touch remained for a few seconds too long.
It was all consuming.
Her hand found the handle to her door, and without hesitation she opened it. Rafayel leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. A look of shock covered his face as he looked at her, eyes wide.
“Princess-”
“You never answered my question.” She declared, exuding the air of a royal, of a future leader of the Kingdom. Inside, she was unsure. “From earlier.”
When he didn’t answer, she still didn’t falter. They both knew what she was referring to, but neither pushed. Instead, Rafayel stood and faced her, the tips of his boots touching the threshold of the door. One large breath from either one, and their chests would touch.
His hands came up to grasp the sides of the entryway, caging her in her room. It was a casual stance, but it made him seem that much bigger. Ah, she was right, he wouldn’t budge unless he wanted to give her an enticing illusion. Judging by the tug of his lips, he too realized they’d be in a constant push and pull.
He couldn’t help himself. He winked. “It’s rude to leave a man such as myself in suspense.”
“A kiss, Rafayel.” She paused. “What’s a kiss truly like?”
In truth, she had some ideas. She had read enough literature and listened to enough gossip from maids to know the gist. Some nobles were never patient enough to wait till they reached their chambers, either. She may have taken a peek from time to time.
“Depends.” He answered, and she felt her heart sink. So it was true then, the blacksmith’s daughter really had gotten to know him . . . intimately. Well, luckily she wasn’t in the market for swords any time soon - “or so I’ve heard.”
The princess’s look of shock was so sudden, Rafayel snorted, reaching forward to flick her forehead. “Such a cutie,” he mumbled, then pinched her cheek. “I know, I know, it’s hard to believe. But being the Captain and all really takes up much of my time.”
She covered her mouth and giggled, partly relieved, partly due to the shrug of his shoulders at his confession. An insecure Rafayel was a rare sight. She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his torso and pressing her cheek to his chest. Her weight pushed him back a step, but he caught himself. He called her a cutie, perhaps it was the other way around.
Rafayel pressed his nose to the top of her head, nuzzling gently. Hugging wasn’t anything new for them, it had happened since they were young kids. The princess had cut her finger on a small shell, and to ease her pain, he had hugged her. The last thing he wanted to see were tears staining her cheeks. Whenever anything had gone wrong, no matter how slight, he had welcomed her into his arms. Over the years he had begun to savor the feel of her body, her scent.
His princess deserved nothing but the best.
With a deep breath in, he began. “It should feel good, real good.” His lips pressed to her hair, and he looked past her into her chambers. Deeper within was another door, one ajar that revealed her four-poster bed. His hold on her tightened. What would happen if he told her he could hear her pleasure when she thought no one could? He nearly groaned, “so good, nothing gets you close enough to him. He should make you breathless, desperate, unable to keep that sweet voice of yours contained.” At that thought his mouth moved down to rest next to her ear. “Fuck, you would sound so good, Princess.”
Her nails dug into his back through the leather of his overcoat at the same time a small gasp escaped her. She felt as if her heart was in her throat, his last words sounded as if they were painful.
Slowly she pulled back, her hands sliding down his back to rest on his hips as she looked up. Flushed cheeks and parted lips filled her vision. Her eyes wandered lower to his neck, where his Adam’s apple dipped with every swallow. She wasn’t familiar with mythical creatures and mating, let alone if merfolk partook in such customs, but she knew exactly where she wanted to bite.
Her eyes traveled back up, and were caught. His own were full of yearning and unfulfilled desires, yet offset with something tender. Whatever it was led her to stroke down his cheek with the back of her fingers. The sensation of scales teased her skin, so small and strong.
She may not have recognized what was deep in his eyes, but she was certain of one thing.
Like waves crashing against one another, they were a raging blue.
Chapter 2: Slippery Fish
Notes:
“You must know, it’s hard for us fishies not to nibble.” His thumb came up and pressed to the corner of his mouth, gliding along his bottom lip. It reminded her of when he ate his favorite treat, the sugar residue collecting. He’d wipe it away, then bring the pad of his thumb to his mouth.
She’d been told princesses were made of sugar, spice, and everything nice.
His finger came to a halt midway across his bottom lip, his eyes boring right into hers. Almost as if he was thinking the exact same thing.
This chapter serves to really set everything up for the future. Things will begin ramping up. Rafayel having this side is heavily inspired by LADS Chapter 8 Rafayel. Not that you need to know this, but he lives in my head rent free.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The sharp grind of sand against metal assaulted Rafayel’s ears. It didn’t stop him, he continued to drag the tip of his dagger over and over through the sand between his legs. Zoned out, he watched the moon reflect off the ocean’s waters, sat far back enough the waves were a foot or two away from his boots.
It was once said merfolk would find answers when close to the water, their original home.
Whoever said that was spouting a whole lot of bubbles.
All Rafayel felt was turmoil, torn between his duties and his desires. In a world where he was at a disadvantage, he offered no political gain, no security.
Unlike a certain Prince could.
He stabbed the blade into the ground next to his thigh at the thought. Restless, he began to snap his fingers, little flames of fire igniting to flicker around his fingertips.The princess always teased that his habit might burn kingdoms down.
How tempting.
Usually at this hour he would be standing behind the Princess’s dining chair, quiet and obedient. He knew if the Princess had any other say in the matter he’d be sat next to her, teasing her about avoiding her vegetables. But she was the minority, believing humans and mythical creatures stood on equal ground. To ease her burden, he had obeyed the cruel traditions since he first understood them.
Tonight, he had assigned a trusted guard to take his place. Not once had he ever taken an evening off. He couldn’t face her, not after the previous evening.
Not after she looked at him as if she were his.
He wanted everything. From the boring, domestic moments of daily life, to the passionate, intimate moments stolen whenever they had the appetite.
So thrilling yet frightening. He had shared himself with her from the beginning of his time, when his memories first started. Things had begun innocently, just as it would for any child, regardless whether they were mythical or not.
The first outing the two had ever experienced was ironically to the ocean. Their retainers that day were not equipped enough to handle two young ones. It hadn't of taken long for Rafayel to find an opening and seize it, leading the young princess by her small hand to a hidden cove.
His skin had felt almost dry, instincts nagging at him to escape and explore. He wanted to swim, to take them both away to freedom. He wanted to do so many things.
The princess had come skidding to a stop, shrieking she didn’t want to get wet, just as Rafayel dove in.
This was it, this was where he belonged. His calling was somewhere deeper. And he would have found it if it wasn’t for the piercing shout of his name.
A lick of annoyance touched his mind. Eyes darted up to the surface, his tail undulating enough to keep him in place. The shape of the sun was now a blob, yellow and white billowed across water. How far had he descended already?
Off in the distance, footsteps disrupted the natural flow of water. She wasn’t like him, she’d be swept away. He could have sworn even the fins behind his ears twitched in irritation.
Muscles worked quickly to propel him up to the surface. Once broken, he turned towards the princess, ready to scold. That was, until he took in her appearance.
Her hands had her skirts bunched up to her knees. However, her hands weren’t big enough to hold all the fabric, and some portions fell unevenly into the water. Eyes somewhat damp from fighting tears, her gaze transitioned from a look of despair to relief.
“Raf!” Her hands formed an O around her lips, amplifying her voice. With it went all her efforts, the ends of her dress falling to temporarily float then sink with the weight of water.
As she scrambled to get out of the water, Rafayel dipped back underneath, swimming until he reached the shore. He laid down on the warm sand, covering his eyes with a forearm. His tail twitched, the fins at the end flicking water.
He felt the sand near his ribs shift to give way to knees. He knew what was coming next, and let it happen.
The princess reached forward, her index finger running along the side of his tail. Her nose scrunched, the scales hard and slick. They glistened against the light of the sun, sometimes purple, sometimes blue, depending on the subtle movement of his tail.
Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, removing his forearm from his eyes. Now she could clearly investigate the fins behind his ears. Touching them didn’t seem right, so she refrained. They were thin, but seemed strong, reminding her of smooth leather. Skin she thought was webbing was near transparent, fading from a dark blue to that of frothy ocean water.
Determined, she nodded to herself. “So, you’re a fish.” She blurted.
Rafayel’s eyes snapped open, his brows furrowing. “A Lemurian.” He corrected, sitting up.
“Oh.” She felt dumb. She didn’t know what that was. “A type of fish?”
He was just about to explain when she fell forward onto her hands. “Last night!” She exclaimed, her enthusiasm causing eyes to widen and cheeks to flush. Rafayel wasn’t sure what she meant, until he realized what they had for dinner. Fish with a side of potatoes.
“Did we-” she cut herself off with a gulp. She seemed a little green. “Were they your friends?”
He threw his head back, laughing. It was her genuine concern that soothed his previous sense of dread.
They returned to their retainers moments after, the princess shivering in her loose shift, Rafayel with his legs once again, body covered in the frilly dress.
It would be later that week when he would explain what exactly he was, under the safety of their blanket fort. Something in his chest had tugged, his sense of survival. He included that she shouldn’t tell anyone about what she saw. She never did.
Because it was only a few months later he would understand why he was reluctant.
Now, he looked out at the sea once more. He removed his glove, and reached behind his ear.
There, a thin bump resided. Another could be found on the other side. Alone in this world as a Lemurian, he wasn’t sure if fins could grow back. He waited, and waited.
Unfortunately, they had cut too deep.
He stood and sheathed his dagger. His bare hand grabbed a bottle that sat next to him from the beginning of the night. Retrieving a small piece of parchment from his belt, he rolled it, and slipped into the glass. It sealed with a push of a cork in, and he twisted it in the sand just at the tide’s edge.
Rafayel walked away, replacing the leather glove over his bare hand. Just before he reached the pathway back to the castle, he looked over his shoulder. As he expected, the bottle was already gone.
Sirens worked fast.
His trek to the castle was brisk, long legs allowing his strides to be efficient. Once in, he made his way to the throne room. Standing in front of the large doors, he rested his hands on thick, polished wood. He took a deep breath in, a long one out. The phantom of the princess’s voice brushed past his mind. She would be upset. He couldn’t blame her. And on that thought, he opened the door.
All eyes landed on him. Advisors of all departments sat around a large table, each one a human. The King sat at his throne, expression void of any indication he was upset with the Captain of his Guard.
Rafayel purposely avoided the gaze of the princess, instead looking to the guard behind her. He had taken Alastor off gate duty, the green-winged forest fairy showing signs of fatigue.
Alastor’s hatred towards the royal family was unrivaled. His wings were clipped, adopting a fringed appearance at the edges, preventing him from flying.
His revenge, he wanted to exact himself. He wouldn’t let anyone take the princess’s life. The fairy thought that right belonged to him, and him alone.
Alastor received a nod from his Captain, and removed himself from behind the princess. Rafayel took his place just as the guard slipped from the room. Conversation continued as if his interruption never happened.
A manicured fingernail continuously tapped on an armrest. He didn’t need to glance down to know it was the princess. Either that unrest was directed towards his absence, or the topic of the conference was unsatisfactory.
“A Masquerade Ball. That’s our next course of action.” The man behind political affairs announced. Rafayel could already hear it now, the complaints from the woman sitting in front of him. With a hidden smirk, he decided he’d have to join her when the seamstresses came to visit. Now intrigued, he focused back on the man speaking.
“When the Prince arrives, we should have an official announcement made. He shall ask the Princess to dance, make it public. Celebration throughout the land solidifies the unification.”
“Increases revenue.” The head banker added.
Nevermind, that smirk turned into a miniscule frown. Rafayel’s hands went behind his back. He wasn’t sure about burning down a Kingdom, but the princess might have been onto something about him and his habitual snapping. He wouldn’t mind starting small, maybe a throne room.
“Captain.” The King’s voice had Rafayel startling. He caught it in time, body angling to face the man seated next to him. He bowed his head slightly.
“You’re attending,” was his command. That wasn’t surprising, Rafayel was raised to be the shadow of his princess. Then, the King finished. “As a guest.”
Rafayel couldn’t hear, his focus tunneling. Things moved in slow motion, the moment between himself and the King suspended in their own time. What was the motive behind that? He tilted his head slightly in thought, trying to read the leader of the Kingdom. Had he seen the way he looked at the princess? Did someone see the two of them the night before?
Either way, it was safe to assume he was becoming a threat. Rightfully so.
He would have to be more careful from now on.
“Your wish is my command.” He wouldn’t argue it, that would only raise more suspicion.
As the meeting came to an end, humans remained and conversed amongst each other. Small conversations that carried more personal tones.
The princess exited first, quick enough to make it so Rafayel had to catch up. She didn’t seem like she had the intention to let him escort her.
When she rounded a corner, he was only a few steps behind. But it was enough for him to lose sight of her. Panic coursed through his veins for merely a second, before a familiar hand grabbed his upper arm and pulled him.
Some castle halls were lined with alcoves, each set lining the walls differing in depth. The one he had been pulled into had slabs of stone, and wooden beams leaned diagonally against the wall. The rustle of curtains told him this alcove was covered to hide the unsightly construction materials.
His back hit the wall, hands pressed against his chest to hold him in place. Her eyes were daring, almost dominant. She was determined. This side of her only he could see. Anyone else, and she’d be reprimanded for not maintaining a proper image.
“Oh?” He couldn’t help himself, once again. It was just too easy, too seamless. Like syrup, his gaze slid slowly down from her face to her hands holding him captive. It was irresistible, how it climbed back up, taking its sweet time. “A slippery fish like me can’t be caught so easily.”
Her eyes narrowed, the pressure of her hands increasing. He would amuse her a little longer. His next words were slow, calculated, taunting. “But, you’re very, very cute right now. I don’t mind being at your mercy, Princess.”
“Where was that smart mouth of yours when you lost your rank to be a guest?” She fired back, not in the mood to play. Or, that’s what she wanted him to think. His close proximity and enticing words tempted her to continue where they left off the night prior.
Clearly, if she ever wanted to take the lead, he wouldn’t protest.
His mouth parted, ready to respond, but her hand came up to cover his lips. She wasn’t confident his next words would be related to their current issue.
“I’m not sure what my father’s intentions were.” Her thoughts, she needed to express them to someone. “As a guest you wouldn’t be able to manage the guards as well. You couldn’t be preoccupied, your focus would solely be on the main event. No other mythical beings will be guests, it will just be you. Unless . . .”
He watched as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. She was about to be married to a man she never met, only heard about. And, her first priority was him. He could see the lines forming from her concentrated brow, her mind racing, never to find an answer. They wouldn’t know until the night of.
So, he bit the palm of her hand.
All thoughts of the upcoming situation fled her mind, he could tell by the way her lips parted. She looked at the back of her hand as if that could replay what he just did, suspicious, unsure if it even happened.
He reached up, and gently curled his long fingers around the base of her hand, adjusting it so he could feel the heel of her palm against his mouth. This time, he bit a little harder. Her perfume, potent and sweet, teased his senses.
She hissed, yanking her hand out of his. “Rafayel!”
He swallowed, the sound of his name, so harsh, made him curious. Oh so curious. What else might he have to do to hear it again?
“You must know, it’s hard for us fishies not to nibble.” His thumb came up and pressed to the corner of his mouth, gliding along his bottom lip. It reminded her of when he ate his favorite treat, the sugar residue collecting. He’d wipe it away, then bring the pad of his thumb to his mouth.
She’d been told princesses were made of sugar, spice, and everything nice.
His finger came to a halt midway across his bottom lip, his eyes boring right into hers. Almost as if he was thinking the exact same thing.
Flustered, her eyes darted to the side. “You bit me.” She muttered. “Twice.”
“Hmm, that I did.” He said, matter-of-factly, then brushed strands of hair from her forehead. This had her eyes realigning with his. “Had to stop the wrinkles, y’know.”
“Of course, that’s your reason.” The sarcasm in her voice paired with the faint roll of her eyes was the segue he needed.
“Enlighten me, your Highness. What other reason might I have to leave my mark on you?”
“Rafayel!”
He snickered, catching her hands as she attempted to shove him. There it was, his name, once again. He cupped her hands with his own, bringing them to his chest, holding them secure. Thumbs gently stroked over the top of her hands, gaze softening to welcome a sincere demeanor.
“You have more important things to worry about than my attendance at a Ball.” He wasn’t going to mention the Prince, he already knew they both were thinking about it regardless. “Whatever your father has planned for me, have confidence I’ll handle it accordingly.”
Before she could dwell on the matter any longer, Rafayel took a step forward, keeping her hands prisoner within his, bending their arms so they were only an inch apart. He transitioned both her hands to one of his, and raised the other. His index and middle finger spread to create a V.
He looked down at her, waiting for her to catch on. Confusion graced her features, earning her a teasing smile from him.
The Captain wiggled his fingers. “That’s how many . . . favors I owe you.”
“Favors?” She asked.
He lowered his hand to trace where he had bitten. Two, very light, bumpy ovals had formed.
Her eyes glazed over with something dangerous, breath hitching. What a satisfying reaction, he was glad to know she was eager to return them.
Wanting to get even closer, he lowered his head. The small space between them was thick, heady with unparalleled attraction. His eyes slid shut, breathing deep. He wouldn’t find this anywhere else.
“Anywhere you want, Princess.” His voice was low, a hushed, provocative tone.
Expectation was another flustered reaction from the Princess. He waited for that accusing sigh of his name, the signal for him to open his eyes and see soft skin turning red from cheeks to chest.
Instead, he felt a hand slide up his chest to his neck, the soft webbing of skin between thumb and index cradling the base of his throat.
Her forehead rested against the side of his neck, inviting his head to tilt back to accommodate her. The earring that dangled from his ear tapped against the top of her head. Her eyes watched her thumb lazily circle around his Adam’s Apple, her nail scratching lightly to stimulate.
Lazy mornings with him would be exquisite. If that’s where they were now, laying in bed, early on a warm morning, her fingers could travel, could explore just like they undoubtedly would have all night. She wouldn't be strong enough not to drag a finger down his throat, over the planes of his chest, and along the lines of his stomach. She wondered if his muscles would tense and contract. Wondered what that felt like.
Those thoughts never crossed her mind when confronted with another man. She had met many, many suitors. While the majority were handsome, polite even, she never desired such intimate knowledge.
They wouldn’t sound like Rafayel would, taste like he would. They wouldn’t look like him when he finally lost his precious composure.
“Anywhere?” She wasn’t sure he could even hear her.
She felt his head tilt back further, baring more of his vulnerability, and watched as his Adam’s Apple bobbed on his next swallow. “Anywhere,” he repeated. “I’m all yours.”
Her mind would entertain those words later in various different fantasies. In those delectable dreams, she’d return the sentiment. She was his to do with what he pleased.
Her lips came to rest gently against his skin when she leaned forward. Now, she could taste the next dip of his throat.
Anticipation made the Lemurian tremble. His hands moved, finding their natural resting places. If he wasn’t wearing his gloves, he’d be able to feel that warm curve of her lower spine. His other would sense the delicate strands of hair as he pulled her closer, impatient. He didn’t know how bad he wanted it until it was right out of his reach.
Just minutes ago he was making a silent vow not to do this again, not to risk her safety, or his. Hell, he knew better. He knew so much better. But he couldn’t stop, the push and pull between them too strong, too enticing.
The years of seeing her hesitate, stopping before words they might regret were said. What would happen if she finally gave in?
“Captain.” Her voice was sultry, confident. Her hands moved to adjust the collar of his top, roles reversed from years ago. Smug eyes met him as he lowered his head, the skin of his neck lonely with the absence of her breath.
He composed himself, struggling not to show his disappointment. His following words would have seemed like a complaint, if not a whine. He was off kilter, unable to come back with something worthy of his usual dramatics.
She swiped underneath his chin with her index finger, a motion to entice his attention back on her. “Two things.”
She smoothed down the front of her dress to look presentable, and ran a hand through her hair, where his fingers had previously upset it.
“First, the Captain has an appearance to maintain. The sounds you will make for me . . . not exactly proper.”
He stood still, eyes glued to her as she pushed the curtain aside, looking over her shoulder one last time.
A dangerous one, she was.
“Second, as of right now, a mark from me must remain hidden.” She mimicked his earlier gaze, sight dragging slowly down his entire body. “I only have two, I will choose my locations wisely.”
The curtain rungs slid loudly after she exited. They were close enough to her chambers, she didn’t require an escort. He had a few hours before he would have to take post outside her door.
That thought was fatal. Her chambers were very close, indeed. He’d be delighted to show her the difference in sensation. The difference between teeth indenting the soft skin of her hip compared to the palm of her hand.
If she didn’t like it, well, then they would know. But God forbid she figured that out with someone else.
He waited, thinking, taking the extra precaution no one would stumble upon him leaving a hidden alcove after the princess.
Once he deemed it had been long enough, he reached for the curtain, a smirk evident on his mouth despite being completely alone.
Wicked thoughts plagued his mind. Those thoughts devoured and dominated all logic.
He felt invincible.
“Challenge accepted, Princess.”
Notes:
If it wasn't obvious already, accept your formal invitation to a Masquerade Ball. Date and Time? Next chapter.
Chapter 3: His Colors
Summary:
“I’m asking more for permission, your Highness.” His hands ran over hers, sliding over them as a momentary greeting before resting atop her legs. He grabbed them, jerking her towards him. His next words weren't a command, they were an invitation. “Give it to me. Please.”
Notes:
Just a gentle reminder, keep in mind the relationship tags. Just keep that in mind, okay *wink wink*
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
She wanted to dig a hole and bury herself.
The future of the Kingdom be damned. She didn’t mind going down in history as the Princess who never even made it to her reign. The people would echo that she was forever young, taken at an age too early.
Her cause of death: attempting to seduce the Captain of the Guard.
What had she been thinking?
Daring words like the ones she had said within that alcove weeks ago implied the removal of clothes. It meant she wanted to place her mouth on areas of him she could only see.
A squeak slipped from her throat without her permission, her gloved hand covering her mouth. Silk stuck to the gloss spread intricately over her lips. Goodness, she was a mess.
“A drink, my lady?”
A cocktail server, her Knight in shining armor, her savior.
“Yes, thank you.”
She received the champagne flute with an elegance she prayed would conceal her internal struggle.
Glancing around, making sure no eyes were on her, she downed the drink in one, unappealing swig.
Not that anyone necessarily knew she was the princess, considering this was, after all, a Masquerade Ball. Alfred, the advisor who suggested this, clearly wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. How could they make an official, public announcement, if no one was supposed to know who they were?
Cutting corners, her father always managed to find the most unreliable subordinates. Rafayel was the only exception, ironic considering he was exactly what they detested the most. That’s why his ancestry wasn’t exactly public.
If her suspicions were right, the King declared Rafayel as a guest to continue that hypocrisy. As a guest, Rafayel could mingle with suitors, noble, human women who might take a liking to him. Women who she wouldn’t doubt her father inserted into the crowd, the rare few who didn’t dread discrimination.
Especially if the King offered a monetary reward.
Those women would take a fancy to the Captain. She knew first hand it wasn’t a difficult task.
The princess loitered on the outskirts of the decorated throne room, secretly placing the empty flute on the base of a pillar. Despite her upbringing, she hated crowds. Especially those that were meant to nurture an environment of competition.
Modesty was not in the room that night. Each person dressed to sway the sex they favored.
The princess had managed to persuade her seamstress to not travel down that particular route. Together, they had settled on a halter top dress, using the delicate outline of her collarbones to attract attention. While the skirts were layered to add volume, the dress remained sleek and humble.
The coloring on the other hand . . .
“Hmm, blue . . . purple . . . gold . . .” A familiar voice listed the blend of colors she wore, his presence warming her left side. “Is this a coincidence, my lady?”
No, it wasn’t. When the seamstress had visited a few days prior, the princess had walked past the Captain’s study. The seamster was attending at that time, taking measurements for alterations on his client’s complete outfit. Rafayel’s door was slightly ajar, which led greedy eyes to steal a quick peek. Memorizing his color palette, she nearly skipped to her seamstress.
“I have a request.” Was what she told her.
That was how she ended up in the same combination of color Rafayel boasted. The bodice of her dress was a darker tone of aqua blue, progressing to bleed into the top of her skirts. There, it transformed into an alluring purple that spread all the way to the ground. Around her waist was an array of gold stomach chains, some adorned with diamonds.
Standing side by side, they must have appeared to be an item.
Rafayel was adorned in a collared tunic, the fabric a rich blue. The gloves matched, blending into the sleeves of his top. His white pants disappeared into blue, knee-high boots, embellished with gold buckles. The belt around his tunic was purple, engraved with gold designs. The cape resting over his shoulders reflected the same colors, purple and gold.
Their masks were similar, the base gold, shimmering with kisses of purple and blue.
“What were you thinking?” His teasing tone was gone. She didn’t have to see his face to know concern was etched into his features.
Anonymity birthed a false sense of courage to those it inhabited.
“Am I not allowed to take risks?” She questioned, not looking at him. Her eyes searched the crowd.
“Not when it endangers you.” He hissed, she could hear his teeth clench.
Anonymity also birthed a very real form of protection to those it rewarded.
“You always protect me. Let me protect you, for once.”
He huffed in defeat. “From what exactly?”
They were quite easy to spot, the women meant to capture her Captain. It was obvious with how they examined the crowd, not mingling, their eyes constantly on the hunt.
Dying hair was part of the Masquerade fantasy. Nobles wanted to escape their reality, changing their features to mirror those of mythical creatures. Beings they deemed as untouchable and unknown.
Many avoided the unknown.
Some masks were enhanced with horns and scales, some covered just the eyes, others the entire face.
Rafayel’s purple hair was not uncommon within the room. And with their matching attire, a quick sweep of the space would blur them into an accounted for misconception.
“Dance with me.” She stepped in front of Rafayel, extending her hand. Part of her protection was not allowing him to worry the rare night he wasn’t on duty.
Many pairs danced in the middle of the throne room, the orchestra playing music that allowed for exceptional movements, same rhythm. She wanted to know what unique pattern they would create.
Rafayel slid his hand underneath hers, bowing to place a kiss to the top of her covered hand.
“I’d be delighted, my lady.”
Her smile was wide, white teeth on display, eyes within the mask sparkling. Despite his social shortcomings, he knew he could make her happy if he was truly allowed to.
He led her to the center, pulling her close to him by the waist as they got into position. The princess was well versed in the art of dancing, it being part of her daily lessons. His realm of art involved a paintbrush and a steady hand. Deep in the corner of his study an easel was hidden away.
“Lead me.” She breathed, placing her faith into him.
Those words captivated him, urging him to take the first step, her body obliging him. Their fingers entwined, she squeezed his hand, communicating she would accompany him in his created cadence.
Their silent exchange was intimate, eyes locked on one another, finding and exploring their shared rhythm. They both knew they could only achieve this together.
“I haven’t stepped on your toes yet, Captain.” The princess whispered, moving an inch closer so he could hear his title. Her smile hadn't diminished in the slightest.
He spun her, the skirts of her dress orbiting her in a whirl of purple and blue, hypnotizing those who caught a glance. Once she was back in his arms, he tugged her so close, his mouth connected with her ear.
“Having the most beautiful woman in the room step on my toes would hardly be considered a grievance.”
“Raf!” He spun her again, chuckling.
They danced until they began to lose breath, so lost to each other the room might as well have been empty. Onlookers couldn’t begin to guess what was said between the two, joy plastered on their faces as one would giggle, the other would respond with a smirk.
Anyone could tell he adored making her laugh.
They separated, Rafayel departing to grab a glass to drink. He made his way to the opposite side, her eyes following him.
The high of their connection would never wear off, what they shared was too powerful. But that didn’t mean that good things still never came to an end.
She could see it from across the ballroom. Amidst flowing dresses, and rich, colorful fabric, only the swirling of blue was the most beautiful. Those eyes, born of the ocean’s treasures, beckoned to everything within her.
If he was willing to gift it to her, that treasure would be cherished by her for years to come.
She was not the focus of those eyes, however. His stare was behind her, where she felt the weight of another gaze.
Turning around would do no good. She already knew it was the Prince, he had arrived. What she felt roaming down her back were claws of a brewing obsession.
This was it. The Prince at her back, the Captain in her line of sight. The King had to be watching, as well. What would she do? Assumption was she would do what everyone supposed was right, turn around, greet the Prince, and forever be his.
Rafayel wasn’t just her confidant, her protector, and partner in crime. Whether he realized it or not, he held her heart.
Selfish, that’s what she would be called, prioritizing her own needs over that of her country’s.
Underneath those expectations, she was still just an individual person.
Seemingly realizing her intentions, Rafayel’s eyes snapped to hers. She’s not sure what her expression conveyed exactly, but the room shifted. The princess felt bare, the longer he held her in his stare, the more he revealed.
She took one step toward him. He registered then she wasn’t fulfilling everything she was brought up to do.
The thought made his eyes fully develop into a radiant blue.
They met halfway, the princess grabbing his hand to lead him away, attempting to prevent him from becoming a spectacle. It felt like a whirlwind, heart racing as she challenged a predestined future assembled by everyone but her.
She led him upstairs, down the hall. She needed to find somewhere he could collect himself. She increased their pace the minute she found it.
This time, there was no denying it. Alone on the throne room balcony, the Princess trapped the Captain against a column of the balustrades. Her body pressed to his, discarding their masks, fingers covering his eyes while they caught their breath.
The sweet scent of flowers filled their nostrils, an arrangement of connected ivy, plants, and blossoms decorated the railings and connected the tops of the columns. Stars painted the sky, twinkling and dancing with the full moon. Torches illuminated the gardens below where guests loitered, others danced. The princess watched their movements while Rafayel calmed down, his hand reaching up to grasp her wrist, the other making its way to her lower back.
“Captain,” she warned.
“Princess,” he returned, removing her hand from his eyes. His eyes had returned to their normal violet, but his smile was too smug, too dangerous.
She chose him, defying expectations. He would have to do the same.
“Raf, whatever you’re thinking -”
His hand traced up from her lower back, the leather of his gloves roaming over the exposed skin of her spine. That smirk of his turned up more at the slight shiver her body produced.
“I’m thinking I hate the way he looks at you.” His voice was low, sharing his forbidden thoughts. “Like he can’t wait to get you alone.”
When his hand reached the back of her neck, he held it gently, applying enough pressure to force her to look up at him. “He won’t kiss you right, the way you need.”
Rafayel flipped their positions easily, holding the princess against the column. The stone was chill against her spine, making her arch. He took another step forward, a hand moving to slide along her skirts to lift her leg, hooking it over the side of his waist. His forearm rested on the pillar above her head, making him lean over her. They were so close, he nuzzled his nose into her neck.
Her hands found his shoulders, gripping the first thing she could find to ground her. His hand held her thigh firmly against his waist, their hips slotted perfectly against one another. Head foggy, she struggled to make sense of what was right and what was wrong.
“And how do you know what I need?” She never hesitated to question him, it was always her way of teasing. There was no threat of embarrassment revealing her thoughts. Never with him.
“Because he won’t kiss you the way I would.” His breath tickled the slope of her neck. Instinctively, she tilted away, exposing more of the delicate skin. He pressed even closer. “The way I will.”
Nothing would have prepared her for the soft press of his lips against her skin, or the soft groan he released. Her fingers found his hair, grasping the strands to hold him in place, silently asking for more. She felt his jaw move, his lips parting. His tongue, warm and wet, flicked against her skin curiously. When there was no protest, he did it again, making a path up to her ear. There, he pulled the skin of her earlobe between his teeth.
Warmth blossomed in her chest, unfurling to reach the tips of her fingers. She wasn’t sure what to do, and judging by his tentative touches, he wasn’t entirely sure either. Words from those hidden books of hers filtered through her mind, but were useless.
What they both knew was, they didn’t want to stop.
The night breeze cooled the spots his tongue had touched her skin, his head now resting alongside hers. He simply held her, unmoving. That earlier instance of boldness, that sense of throwing caution to the wind, was fading. Each move made had heavy consequences.
“Raf.” She seemed almost dizzy, her voice more of a breath. Elated is what she felt. For years, she had waited for this very moment.
“Princess.” He echoed her, pulling away just enough to meet her eyes. There was not a hint of doubt or regret. Matter of fact, her eyes were warm, slightly smaller due her soft smile. A sarcastic remark came to mind - his defense mechanism. Instead, he took a deep breath. He wanted this to be genuine.
Her hands moved first. He felt them slide from his shoulders, slowly up to the sides of his neck, her thumbs resting at his jaw. Heat sparked through her gaze when his jaw clenched, the movement pressing against her thumbs.
Permission was given with a nod, hands guiding his head closer. She was fearless when he least expected it. It didn’t take much coaxing for him to voluntarily lean in the rest of the way. A sharp intake of her breath and his lips finally came to meet hers.
Rafayel had heard rumors it would feel like an explosion, a moment full of heat and messy advances. Hands would roam almost violently, clothes would be scattered. He supposed he should have questioned the words of his Knights in the tavern, their eyes roaming over women of pleasure, simply interested in means to an end.
He decided it felt like soaring.
Soaring through time, to be exact. He could envision it, his mouth landing on hers after a long day. It’s the first thing he would do when he entered their chambers. He could practically feel the outline of her lips brushing against his when they would eventually share rigid, rapid breaths. Her sounds, he would swallow them all, muffle them with his lips. They were only his to hear.
His fingers flexed, pressing into the back of her thigh. They trailed down behind the bend of her knee, to her calf and finally to her ankle. With a soothing back and forth of his thumb, he teased her, before slipping the hand underneath fabric to slide up bare skin. The edges of her dress pooled at his wrist, exposing her leg.
The princess wouldn't let this happen - let him get away with something so indecent.
Usually.
He smirked against her mouth, almost faltering in their rhythm, satisfied her thoughts were solely on his kiss.
Tilting her chin back with his other hand, she surrendered to him, pliant, welcoming of his exploration. This was as equally surprising as it was flattering. But he would dwell on that later, the mixture of her gasps and quiet moans entering the forefront of his mind. He wanted to hear more.
She bore more of his weight as he pressed closer. He was greedy, mouth hungry and eager. Lips smacked with each wet departure and return.
“Just like that.” He praised. The words fell as he changed angles.
How he said it, a man confident in his needs and wants, sent shivers cascading from the base of her skull to her lower spine. The only fear she had was she knew she’d do just about anything he wanted. She didn’t doubt he would do the same for her. Not with the way the Captain was devouring her.
He pulled away, just enough so his mouth could move to form words. “Don’t tell me . . .”
She didn’t respond. He’d figure out what she liked and what she didn’t, soon enough.
“Come here.” His words were quick, he didn’t want to spend a single second away from her mouth if he didn’t have to. “Need those legs around me, Princess.”
That confirmed it. She moaned against his mouth when he lifted her, both hands cupping the back of her thighs. A distant reflection occurred to her, she should have requested a lighter, thinner dress. Legs tight around his waist, her arms over his shoulders, the only thing between them was the pesky material of their attire.
It may have been too soon, too early in this exploration, but she couldn’t stop herself to save her life. One thought crossed her mind. She had been on the right track weeks ago, implying the removal of clothes.
Suggestion could effortlessly become instigation.
“Wearing my colors. . .” His mouth found the space right beneath her jaw. “You’re always doing things that test me, but letting me claim you for the night? You’re practically begging for me to lose what little control I have left.”
His admission felt more carnal than his actions.
His name whispered, it was like a curse, forever binding him to the woman in his arms.
He set her on the wide railing, hands planting next to her hips. He leaned forward, starved, but her hands pressed to the sides of his face. Her eyes didn’t indicate dislike, they searched for each individual feature of his face.
“I -” she began, words struggling to form. How could she relay her feelings in a mere sentence or two? Emotions she refused to acknowledge and process for what felt like ages came bubbling to the surface. The surge was a violent current so easy to be swept away and drown in. She would go willingly.
“I know.” Years of standing by her side, reading and learning her, meant words were no longer required. “I know.” He said once more, his voice trailing off into a groan. His lips pressed to her forehead, cheek, tip of her nose, and finally her mouth. “I feel the same.”
He had to brace against the stone, her pull on his body so abrupt as her hands dug into the back of his tunic, nails stinging his skin. He felt it, the muscles of her thighs contracting around his hips, seemingly making an attempt to entice him into her, body and soul.
She sometimes wrestled with words, always poetic on paper, and fierce in the beliefs she nurtured in her head. The stammer when caught off guard, the subtle insecurity, was a piece of her he watched evolve with her throughout the years. His abilities to use words to fluster and manipulate were opposite to hers. She was endearing, genuine. Physical assurance and expression was her strength. Be that through a fleeting caress of a hand through his hair, or the grounded glimpse in her gaze.
How she kissed him now told him everything he needed to know.
He couldn’t get enough, the taste of her infused with the bright tones of champagne intoxicated him.
“You must think you’re the only one unable to think, to catch your breath.” He wanted to let her know that he was equally as devastated. “Know this, Princess, it wouldn’t take much to get me on my knees.”
She bit down tenderly on his bottom lip, nails no longer pressing into his back, but now dragging down. She liked that.
“I once told you I could be a good, honest Knight.” He pushed, comfortable navigating this unknown territory. “Should I prove it?”
“There’s nothing to prove.” Her fingers raked over the back of his ribs, down to his sides, resting above where her thighs still trapped him. She should tell him more often how good he looked, how good he felt. “I already know you would follow any order I’d give.”
“I’m asking more for permission, your Highness.” His hands ran over hers, sliding over them as a momentary greeting before resting atop her legs. He grabbed them, jerking her towards him. His next words weren't a command, they were an invitation. “Give it to me. Please.”
He felt her relax underneath his touch, granting him the permission he craved. Judging by her half-lidded gaze and the rapid rise and fall of her chest, there was no pressure.
He never wanted to do something she didn’t wholeheartedly desire.
His eyes held hers as he gradually lowered into a kneel, his hands skimming over the tops of her thighs, to her knees. This dress, although exquisite, was a barrier he wouldn’t delay tearing if they were alone.
As his body descended, her hands came to rest where they could reach. One over his on her right knee, the other against his cheek. He removed her hand from his face, pulling off her silken glove in one swift gesture. It fell to the ground the same time he grabbed her wrist. Looking up at her still, he kissed her palm from heel to the base of her fingers.
This again, she feared her heart might break free from her chest. Maintaining eye contact left a delicious burn in her stomach, flecks of blue beginning to mingle with his usual lilac. His mind, vast and gifted, had so much in store for them.
He kissed each fingertip, eyes closing as if savoring the feel of her skin. Lingering on her ring finger, he bit down, not hard enough to mark, just grab her attention. “One day . . .” He muttered, then maneuvered to rest his cheek on her knee.
Across from him, his hand there, still covered by hers, began to lazily move up. Once halfway up her thigh, he paused, looking up at her. Fingers against her skin soothingly stroked back and forth. She avoided his gaze.
“Look at me.” He requested softly, relaxing when she did.
If they were going to explore more firsts, he wanted it to be together.
“Tell me-” he began, only for him to look back at their hands. Curled to cradle his, she guided him further up, certain of his intentions.
She would have led him to where she ached, if it wasn’t for Rafayel unexpectedly cutting his ministrations short, his body rigid.
His head turned slightly as if trying to listen closer to something over his shoulder. When the princess went to question him, a lone finger came to rest against her lips as he stood.
Before she could process what was wrong, mind muddled and flustered, Rafayel rotated. He placed himself between her and the door, hand reaching back to make sure she remained behind him. She hopped off the railing, skirts falling to cover her legs.
That’s when she heard it, the crisp fall of footsteps. They were slow, methodical, steady, and confident.
Those were the steps of a royal.
They halted right outside the door. The handle curved downwards, and the latch inside clicked.
Whoever they were, they knew Rafayel and the Princess were on the balcony. Alone.
Regardless, the intruder didn’t hesitate to enter.
His mask was black, highlighted by a mixture of red and blue. It framed stern, amethyst eyes that flickered between the Captain and the princess as if he had the authority to admonish. Fringes of dark, brown hair, cut similarly to Rafayel’s, fell haphazardly over the material deception.
Purple eyes settled on Rafayel, the stranger’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. It unsettled the princess. That smile was a facade which seemed so fragile, it could crack at any moment.
Removing his mask, the man shook out his hair, running a leather gloved hand through it. With his bangs pushed back, his unique eyes were the center of the princess’s attention. A light dusting of freckles were splattered across his cheeks, portraying innocence.
That illusion vanished when he chuckled.
“Rafayel.” He greeted, his voice uncharacteristic when presented with his captivating presence. If the situation wasn’t so dire, she might have been tempted to coo.
“You know this man?” She asked, unsure whether she should be relieved or guarded. Part of her was jealous, even. He was a part of a past Rafayel hadn't cared to reveal.
Rafayel’s jaw clenched, scrutinizing the man in question. He didn’t hear the princess. His mind was reeling, calculating his next moves.
“I didn’t expect to see you again, Caleb.”
The intruder, or she realized now, the guest - Caleb, hummed simply in agreement. He took a solid step forward revealing to the princess that he was an inch or two taller than Rafayel.
His eyes slid from Rafayel, to over the Captain’s shoulder, finally landing on her, and staying. “I didn’t come here to be an enemy.” He seemed to be addressing them both. Then, ever so slowly, his features softened in an attempt to comfort. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess.”
Rafayel stepped aside, his sudden obedience shocking.
Caleb closed the distance, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the top of it. As his eyes looked curiously into hers, he muttered against her skin. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“Your Highness.” Rafayel was stiff, voice desolate. Her heart sunk, the safe haven she was just secure in collapsing completely. “I present to you, your betrothed, Prince Caleb.”
Notes:
Now a good time to mention I'm also a Caleb girlie? No? Okay
Before you panic, it's probably not what you think. Do not fret. If you are worried, you might want to think back to my *wink wink*
Chapter 4: Pipsqueak
Summary:
“You realize what you’re asking, correct?” His eyes narrowed. “It would mean treason.”
Notes:
I present to you: angst.
Mentions of kidnapping and body augmentation.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The universe had an interesting way of toying with him.
Minutes ago he was near satisfying his princess, watching her fall apart under his touch. And now, a man he wasn’t sure he would see in person again had appeared.
He knew which fate he would have preferred for the evening.
Rafayel exhaled, and leaned against the pillar, crossing his arms. The princess stood like a statue, her hand still held by Caleb’s. If she was hoping to figure him out, she’d find herself disappointed. Rafayel had tried well over a decade and still sought an answer.
“So, this is her, huh.” Caleb straightened, eyes fastened to the princess as he directed his words towards Rafayel. “The very princess you boasted could save us all.”
“I didn’t expect it to be you.” The Lemurian ignored Caleb’s observations.
“They say if you want something done well, do it yourself.” He responded. “Besides, I’ve made a lot of enemies since I last saw you, this title protects me the best.”
Uncharacteristically serious, Rafayel remained quiet. A silent observer, his eyes roamed over Caleb. In the years he hadn't seen him, the man’s tempered posture exuded time spent worrying about others opinions. The ‘Prince’ wasn’t lying.
“Instead of speaking as if I don’t exist, it’s common courtesy to let everyone in on the conversation.” The princess removed her hand from Caleb’s, his eyebrows rising in response to her retort. “Considering the Captain has dropped formality, you aren’t a royal.”
“Prince Caleb doesn’t have the ring to it I was hoping it would.” He finally addressed the princess directly, resting his hand at his side. He clenched his fist, right hand appearing cumbersome. Only Rafayel noticed. “Your Captain helped me dispose of the Prince many years ago.”
Once, when he was younger, Rafayel had learned the danger of keeping secrets. Gluttony was a common component of rising with other Knights. It was ugly, and made bonds brittle. Paranoia joined him in bed every night, unsure if what he had said that day would be warped then used against him.
As the future Captain, Rafayel was privy to information others weren’t, leading to false pretenses from companions. With the intention to help, words he had said were made common knowledge amongst his peers, and unfortunately his superiors. That sinking feeling, that rush of scrambling for defenses when caught, he vowed he would never feel again.
When wide eyes landed on his being, eyes which previously held affection and heat, disappointment swelled in his chest. His vow to himself had been broken.
Caleb felt the air around them shift. He wasn’t naive, he knew he had walked into a moment of discovery of new feelings, unexplored wants and needs. How the princess looked at him, how the Lemurian looked at her, only a fool couldn’t conclude what was looming between them.
The writing was on the wall, and the faux prince had read every single word. At a beachside, sirens delivered bottles to him weekly, each bottle hosting details of subversion, a little piece of parchment written by the Captain himself. Recently, doubt lingered in the ink. Between words small dots of ink dawdled where the writer had held the quill, unsure what to reveal next, if anything at all.
Deep within the recesses of his mind, Caleb remembered the Lemurian, how he was amongst others who were kidnapped. When everything was being taken from him, he still gave. Choosing him as an ally should have been calculated as a fatal mistake.
Because he should have known the Lemurian would go and surrender himself to her.
The right thing to do would be to give them time.
“Your father, the King, has requested my presence.” Caleb subtly nodded towards Rafayel, communicating he was giving them a chance. Regardless, his words weren’t a fib, there was much to discuss regarding the impending marriage. “I’ll be seeing you two soon.”
The princess didn’t notice his departure, her eyes still analyzing the Captain. She wasn’t shocked, nor was she upset. If anything, she felt empty. Had he not felt like he could talk with her? Confide in her?
Was she just someone to pass the time with?
“Whatever you’re thinking, just stop.” Rafayel grimaced, already anticipating her thoughts. He closed the distance between them, hand pushing her hair back, nails teasing her scalp. His forehead rested upon hers. “I didn’t kiss you thoroughly enough if you doubt my intentions.”
Gods, take her back to earlier, when she was lost in him. This unease, it was miserable.
“Humans really are greedy . . . Always exploiting other species once you discover their weaknesses.” He whispered between them. “That’s what I’ve told myself. Over and over, especially when I got caught in those pretty eyes of yours. If you wanted, I wouldn’t hesitate to call you master.”
“That’s not -”
“Listen, I’m not done.” His whisper was sharp. “I know you wouldn’t. That’s one of the many reasons you’ve come to mean more to me than you know .”
Down below, a guest laughed, her voice a gentle melody amongst the wind. The princess listened to it, finding whatever around her that could tether her to reality. Beneath her feet, the balcony felt fragile, as if it could crumble any second. And she would fall, hopefully out of this dream.
She felt her eyebrows furrow. So many emotions circled within, unsure where to go, unsure how to escape. Her next words spilled from her, pathetically. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Nothing, Your Highness.” Rafayel took a step back, giving her the space she required. He took no offense to her words.
She moved, walking to lean forward on the railing he had lifted her onto earlier. He stood next to her, but not too close. He figured reaching out to touch her was the last thing she needed at that very moment.
“That’s why I could never tell you about what I have been doing.” He could only hope she believed him. “I know you would only wish to help, place yourself in harm’s way. You’d be working to destroy your home, your family. It would go against everything I was raised to do . . .”
“So . . . you kept it all to yourself?”
Frustration slid around him like a snake - quiet and patient, waiting to suffocate when vulnerable.
Of course, she noticed that.
“How would you like me to react?” She questioned, fingers absently moving to pull on the petals of a flower hanging from the column. “Would you have even told me if it wasn’t for Caleb? Or would I have found out the day you executed your plan.”
He wanted to grab her, and shake her, force her to understand why he couldn’t have told her. That would mean admitting he wasn’t sure himself how he wanted to proceed. Each day, as their plans became more concrete, the more he began to waver.
It was easy to ignore - the outside world. If he remained next to her long enough, he would forget his past, neglect the itch of his skin, adapt to the sticky air land dwellers lived off of.
Over the years, Caleb became a constant reminder, corresponding with him, concocting a plan. But, Caleb didn’t have the princess at his side, in his arms.
In his heart.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply.
“I just need you to trust me.” His words were a mistake, and he knew it.
“Oh, like you trusted me?” Her body turned towards his. Defiant, she looked up at him.
Many would cower under the gaze of the Captain. All it did was make his heart soften, his feelings spread and warmed his skin. It ignited something within.
“I don’t know, what I was thinking, what I am thinking!” His voice didn’t necessarily raise, just strengthened. It startled her, how passionate he seemed. Rafayel shook his head to himself, and found himself chuckling.
“All I know is that I love you.”
Not once had the princess ever seen Rafayel defeated, yet here he was, in disbelief, his heart laid bare between them. His eyes drifted to the side, the corner of his bottom lip sucked into his mouth. Pretty, that’s how he looked, with a shy blush tinting his cheeks and ears.
Through rose-tinted glasses, confessions of love should be done in a different setting, under different circumstances. She wouldn’t have changed it, this was theirs, devastatingly authentic.
Guiding him with her hands cupping his face, she had him look at her once more. “And what do lovers do, Raf?” His eyes dipped to her lips, then back up, a rich, saccharine quality to his gaze. She could tell he wasn’t implying a kiss, he simply wanted to read her. “They share their highs and lows, their aspirations, their burdens. So will you?”
“Will I?” Entranced, he couldn’t believe this was happening. There was a dark, nasty weight in the pit of his stomach, questioning whether she would accept all that she found within.
She smiled. “Let me in, let me see all of you?”
He was nodding before she said her next sentence.
“Let me love you?”
It was only a few days later that Rafayel was summoned by the King.
As he walked the halls, he knew the topic of conversation. The man they believed was the prince had finally arrived. The upcoming sequence of events were predictable.
When Rafayel received the summon, he had already begun packing.
Entering the throne room, he took a few steps before lowering into a kneel. The last time he had kneeled was before the princess. That one was genuine. This one was not.
“I’ve received a request for aid from an ally.” Just like when he had last seen him, the King’s voice was uninterested, undisturbed by Rafayel’s presence. Disapproving of the Captain who had dedicated his life to protecting the Kingdom.
“I assume they’ve requested reinforcements.”
“I told them I’d send my strongest . . . Knight.” The King struggled with the term, refusing to identify Rafayel as what he truly was - A Lemurian. That would entail admitting the mythical being was stronger, perhaps to some, even superior.
Rafayel highly doubted such a request even existed. He was being sent to his death.
“They expect you within a week’s time. I suggest you leave tomorrow.”
“Have you notified the princess?” It was mere luck that his voice didn’t fluctuate.
“She will be summoned later.”
A response would be a waste of breath, so Rafayel stood, bowing his head before turning to leave. His hand wrapped around the handle, when the King spoke once more.
“When she comes to you, make it a final farewell.”
The leather of his gloves strained against his grip, the metal of the handle beginning to mold to his grasp.
This was a battle he wouldn’t lose, so he calmly exited, shutting the door gently. As he began the long walk back to his study, he had to weigh his options.
The princess was going to be left with Caleb. That thought alone taught Rafayel he was more possessive than he might have anticipated. He shook that feeling off, rationalizing his next train of thought.
Caleb might have been human, but he was sympathetic to their cause.
He was meant to be amplified, used as a surrogate for abilities only beings like Rafayel could inherit.
Caleb was the product of human greed, Rafayel was their resource.
They had been allies long enough he knew he could trust the man. It wasn’t the lack of trust that was his problem.
The princess was Rafayel’s priority, he couldn’t say the same for Caleb.
There wouldn’t be enough time for him to meet with the prince, and formulate a plan to accommodate this sudden change. While he wanted to just steal the princess away with him, that wouldn’t benefit anyone.
Perhaps the humans were right to fear mythical beings. He smirked at the dash of sympathy that touched him.
The unknown was truly unnerving. Unlike the humans he knew, he walked towards it, with his head held high.
Rafayel looked up from his bag at the slam of his study door. The princess filled his vision, shoulders heaving with each breath. She had run to him.
So, she had heard the news.
Their first kiss was exploration, this one was pure, unadulterated need.
Her arms looped around his shoulders, raising on her toes to erase the space between them. His mouth opened immediately, welcoming the press of her tongue. There was no sensual delay, no drawing the moment out. They were desperate.
“I want to hear you.” Her words were rushed. “Feel you.”
Desire, hot and sharp, shot through his body. “Fuck, Princess.”
“More.” Her hands found their way down, then slid back up from his stomach to his chest, lingering at his dip between his collarbones, then over his shoulders once more. He was warm, soft, and hard where it mattered.
“I think I like you demanding, cutie.” He replied, moving his mouth to kiss along the line of her jaw. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
Filthy words played back and forth, tugging on her chest, rising in her throat. Those words would have to wait. “If I told you that, we’d be in here for days.”
“Oh? Just days?” He bit the side of her neck, rewarding him with a hiss. He soothed the sting with the flat of his tongue. “Not good enough.”
“You can’t be serious!” Her laugh brought a small smile to his lips against her skin.
“I’m very serious, Princess.” He tried to maintain his bluff, but failed the second his words came out. Soon, he was laughing with her.
His arms came to wrap around her, pulling her close as he placed open-mouthed kisses over the skin he could reach. The further he went, the more obnoxiously wet, more obnoxiously loud they became. She tried to pull away, but he squeezed more, following her with his mouth.
She mimicked him, latching onto his neck, collarbone, jaw, chin, and cheeks. A giggle would slip through here and there, but she continued regardless. It was a competition, who could cover the most ground.
Eventually his mouth found hers, their movements sensual and heavy, slow and deliberate. His ministrations could have easily been mistaken as gentle if they weren’t so deep. Silently, he was dominating.
Rafayel was faintly aware of the unbolted study door, the time of the day welcoming Knights, scribes, and maids alike to enter.
His teeth pulled on her lip, tugging it then releasing. His tongue poked out to taste his bite, sampling them on her mouth. Maybe, just maybe, he liked the risk.
The princess seemed equally unbothered, her fingers playing with his hair, messing it up in ways that made him appear completely and utterly wrecked.
After a while, their kiss turned lazy, hands roaming less with lust and more with devotion. Whenever they departed, a few breaths were taken, sometimes a soft nuzzle of noses, then they’d return to one another.
As much as she wanted to argue with him, she already knew it’d be futile. So, there was only one thing to ask. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow morning.” The words were a soft breath against her lips. “Long before you’re awake.”
His hands cupped her neck, thumbs stroking over her jaw.
“When we meet again, I’ll make up for every second spent away from you.” His lips tickled her ear. “I’m going to kiss you, taste you, and touch you. I won’t stop until you’re a mess beneath me, begging me to give us what we both need.”
Within his arms, he felt her subtle jerk, head tucking tight against his chest. Her shoulders rose sharply with each silent sob. Rafayel ran his fingers through her hair repeatedly, resting his chin atop her head.
When she looked up, her eyes were red-rimmed, already swelling. She teased him, voice wet and weak. “Are you sure it won’t be you begging, beneath me?”
He laughed, kissing her forehead. “There’s only one way to find out, Princess.”
“I look forward to it.” She refused to say ‘goodbye.’
Rafayel wasn’t sure how long they held each other, simply memorizing the sensation. It was what he would be recalling for many nights to come.
As the light in the room shifted from a bright white to a dim auburn, with one last kiss, she left him.
He stood alone for a while, doubting he would be able to do it. He missed her already, his body felt cold, hands empty. If he wanted to hold her again, he would need to survive.
Resolve coursed through him, accompanying him all night until early morning, when he rose and reached for his bag.
With one last look around his room, he threw his hood over his head, and began his journey.
Summer departed to welcome Fall, then came Winter. Time eventually became irrelevant. Every single day gave way to more duties, more events that served to spread word of a royal union between the prince and princess.
She wouldn’t admit it, but having Caleb’s presence by her side through the long days brought a distinctive sense of comfort.
They fell into their own rhythm, exchanging light touches to tease the crowd, murmuring in each other’s ears. The Kingdom thought they were madly in love, unable to stay apart. It worked to their advantage, ultimately coming to share rooms, appear as a united front in public. His habits she came to know, and vice versa.
“They say he’s been doing well.” Caleb had whispered in her ear one evening, the banquet hall filled with nobles. They sat adjacent to one another at the dinner table, his mouth near her ear causing young girls nearby to blush. His arm went over the back of her chair as he leaned even closer. “Not that this matters . . . but they say his hair has grown longer, too.”
Those were the kind of words he would reveal under the guise of a lover’s whisper. Caleb’s web of spies seemed neverending, relaying information weekly. He knew where everyone in the realm slept each night.
At night, they would return to their bed chambers. Their individual routines never interfered, she would brush her hair, while he would untie his boots, discussing, decompressing.
At rare times she would grieve, curious if her routine next to Rafayel would be just as seamless.
Even so, it was impossible to compare the two.
Caleb felt different, not good, not bad, just different.
She stared at his back, as she did every night. Caleb never faced her, would just silently enter their bed and turn away. The princess assumed it was a gesture of security, she was certain he wouldn’t attempt anything.
In return, she wasn't positive he thought the same.
He was always gone by the time she awoke. While most would be apprehensive of such discovery, it allowed her to finally stretch, slide her hands underneath and revel in the cold cocoon beneath his pillow.
Something sharp and equally smooth had glided across her fingertips one morning. Whether the knife was meant to harm her or protect her, she couldn’t tell.
Even so, she never told him she knew it was there.
He froze when her hand pressed against his back, between his shoulder blades. His heartbeat was steady, unwavering. The longer she kept her hand there, the stronger it became.
“Need something, Princess?”
Caleb had a lovely drawl, a voice that allowed for emphasis whenever he willed it. In another lifetime, she knew it would have been a feature of his she adored, if not desired.
“Will you . . . tell me?” She was hesitant. Ultimately, she was requesting his trust. Something she wasn’t sure he was ready to give.
The princess had also come to notice Caleb had a certain groan, a sound he would release when contemplating, or in some cases, internally struggling.
Slowly, he rolled over, those amethyst eyes of his meeting her. She would never get used to his boyish qualities, it’s no wonder no one questioned his farce.
“I met Rafayel close to two decades ago.” He kept his voice low. It made her think they weren’t alone. “We just so happened to be locked in the same dungeon. He was one cell over.”
“Lemurians’ tears are rumored to turn to pearls, their songs fatal, and have scales sharp enough to rival any weapon in the entire world.” Caleb continued. “Whether that’s true or not, no one wanted to risk it. That’s why you have to catch them when they’re young and defenseless. Rafayel was no exception to that rule.”
The princess didn’t move, just took a deep breath in, then breathed out. That burn behind her eyes would have to wait, now was not the time.
She remembered when Rafayel had disappeared for a few weeks many years ago. The King had announced the young boy was on a brief journey, preparing for his training as a future Knight. Any child her age would have believed it.
When Rafayel returned, not much had changed. He seemed a little older, but she had attributed that to his preparation. It wasn’t uncommon amongst the children chosen to follow the path of Knighthood.
His indifference towards humans she thought was just a trait of him, something he would have developed regardless. Especially in a world where he was mistreated, prevented from discovering his true potential. Whenever his hostility surfaced, it was most certainly deserved.
Seeing her mind connecting the dots, Caleb kept going. “Rafayel talked much about you, during his time in captivity. His young mind was already conjuring up a plan. Someone of power, you, might make a difference. You became much more than a piece of the puzzle rather quickly, however.”
Relief rushed through her, body heavy as it relaxed. She had trusted Rafayel’s words the night of the Masquerade, but to hear it from another, was the security she needed. She must’ve sunk further into the mattress in relief, because Caleb chuckled.
“Have him look at you while a merman, I’m sure his tail would be restless, exposing his delight at seeing you.”
Her smile was genuine, the mental image of Rafayel in some way shape or form wagging his tail offering a pleasant, although short, respite.
A finger poked her cheek, “Finally, I can make you smile too.”
This sobered her. She maintained that small smile, scooting a little closer to Caleb. “What about you? Why were you there?” Her smile disappeared the second grief bled across his gaze.
“Orphans can’t be considered lost.” His gaze was empty, remembering a time he would much rather forget. “While they forcefully took from mythical beings, they forcefully gave to us.” His right hand filled her vision. “Touch me.”
Rafayel wouldn’t mind, was what she told herself, reaching forward to hold his hand. It took a second before he returned the grasp. The time it took him to respond was enough to tell her his reaction wasn’t subconscious.
“I can’t feel it.” He confirmed her suspicions. Bringing her hand to his cheek, he closed his eyes, savoring her touch. “This arm, it’s not real. Underneath it’s made of crude metal, the skin an illusion cast by talented fairies.”
She watched him, waiting for him to continue.
“A creature related to Earth, I’m not sure what exactly, that’s what runs through my veins.” Eyes slowly opening, it was as if he came back to himself, removing her hand from his face. “Gives me the ability to manipulate gravity.”
On the tip of her tongue were words of awe, amazed such a feat could be achieved. But at what cost?
That wasn’t right, to celebrate his pain. In the months she has been with him, he had never shown her his ability, even behind closed doors.
“And I assume whomever was behind it had a plan to build an army, Knights altered to wield the abilities of mythical creatures.” The words felt like taboo, so her voice lowered as she continued. “Something that doesn’t belong to us humans. Such hypocrites, suppressing mythical beings in fear of an uprising.”
“The person behind that specific batch of subjects was the prince I replaced, your future husband.” His words were bitter. Not towards her, no, he was truly disgusted by the implication, the destiny she was meant to bring to fruition.
“You don’t mean -”
“The castle is impenetrable, knowing that Rafayel’s ‘training’ was really a kidnapping, I’m sure you can agree it was arranged by the King.”
It dawned on her then.
“Please.” The princess grasped Caleb by the front of his shirt. His hands in return came to rest over hers, unsure of what she planned to do. “Help me save him.”
Alone, in their chambers, the princess allowed herself to cry. Small tears welled, then fell, curving around her jaw to drip from her chin. Getting up and trying to find the Lemurian was illogical and rash, yet her body still shook.
At that moment, Caleb understood Rafayel a little more.
“You realize what you’re asking, correct?” His eyes narrowed. “It would mean treason.”
The fabric in her hands bunched, dampening from the sweat of her palms. She felt the heavy crescendo of courage rise from within.
“Show me a world I’ve never seen.”
He smirked. She would feel so tiny in such a vast realm. “Thought you’d never ask, Pipsqueak.”
Notes:
Now that the mandatory chapter of angst is completed, let's go get our fishie.
Chapter 5: Covenant
Summary:
Neither could resist it anymore, succumbing to the rich desire encapsulating them both. He had to trust she knew how much he loved her, that this wasn’t something purely physical. Because once he started, he wasn’t sure what he might say or do to express his desires. It might be devastatingly gentle, or turbulent and uncontained, prone to having a mind of its own.
Notes:
This one may have gotten away from me for a bit . . .
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It was the sixth time that day Caleb had pinned her down.
“Caleb: six. Pipsqueak: two.” The man above her teased, relaxing his grip around her forearms when she stopped struggling.
Caleb, the princess had learned, was a relentless teacher.
“Can’t keep letting this happen, I might begin to think you want me on top of you.”
He was also an insufferable basta-
“Oh, I like that look in your eye.” He was quick with his words, too. “Hold onto that feeling, and show me what you got.”
Caleb had escaped with the princess late in the night a few days before the end of the year. It was a risky decision, losing the possibility of shelter and warmth in the colder part of Winter. Though, it wasn’t a spontaneous decision, either.
The endless fall of snow made it hard to track them, and the merciless freeze didn’t spare the horses, forcing the two humans to continue their trek on foot. Caleb was positive the princess would complain, urge him to turn back and beg the King for forgiveness.
Instead, she turned out to be the one encouraging him.
There were many nights, while they built a fire underneath whatever natural formation of refuge they could find, where he doubted inviting the young woman into the conflict. Even more so when she failed to light a fire the first few times.
He had mentioned her failure, in which she had responded with “Fail stands for ‘first attempt in learning,’ I’ll have you know.”
Winter was harsh, even for someone experienced on the run like himself, but they both survived. Spring was their reward, which was when he began their training.
As he looked down at her, breathing hard, the definition of muscle was forming at her shoulders, toning her upper arms down to her wrists. Even now, he wasn’t holding back any longer. Excitement tickled in his throat, he knew sparring with the use of gravity was around the corner.
He sat back, resting on her legs. The princess didn’t move, simply looking up at him. Caleb turned his attention to the side, watching the flow of the large river next to them. The water reflected and sparkled under the sun. It was warm and tranquil, a moment of peace. Peace was a foreign concept to the rebel; however, the longer he remained by the princess’s side, the more he seemed to experience it.
“I’m not a chair, Caleb.”
He didn’t have to look down to know she was practically scowling at him.
Caleb wiggled his hips. “Then why does it seem so comfy?”
Seconds ago, he was confident he could argue humans didn’t growl, but after the sound the princess produced, he wasn’t entirely sure. Her nose scrunched, irritation molding her features.
Oh how he thoroughly enjoyed riling her up.
Removing himself off of her, he stood, reaching out his hand. She recognized his hand served as an olive branch, so she took it, reluctantly. One day she’d be victorious, she promised herself.
“We should probably head back, Pip.” Caleb threw his jacket over his shoulders as he spoke, slicking his hair back, the fine pieces of hair saturated with sweat.
The princess assumed she was in no better shape.
Caleb had introduced her to the others roughly half a year ago, when they first began her training. She was now the minority amongst the community of people both Caleb and Rafayel aimed to protect. While she wasn’t the only human, the other humans had come in contact with mythical abilities, forced just like Caleb. Everyone else belonged to the realm of mythical beings.
They followed the makeshift path that ran along the river, leading to an abandoned town. She stayed in a near demolished home with Caleb, their ceiling partially collapsed, the walls crumbling. The luxuries that were previously ingrained in her very being had long faded from her body. New habits had formed and became her normal.
Caleb had explained that throughout the years him and Rafayel had communicated via water. Sirens served as their messengers, carrying Rafayel’s words from the ocean shore then up the river to Caleb.
The princess had met them briefly, crouching next to the river one summer morning. They were dangerous creatures, voices seductive to all despite being exclusively feminine. She had found herself leaning towards the water the more they conversed with her, pulled by an imperceptible string. At first, she had thought she was chatting with mermaids, but learned there were subtle differences between the two species.
That didn’t stop one siren from quipping that Rafayel was considered attractive to creatures who dwelled underwater, even if those creatures were not fellow Lemurians.
Like she really needed to know that. She had spent the next few days sulking, poking at her own legs, contemplating if Rafayel would prefer she had a tail. As a merman, what were his standards for beauty?
After embarking on the perilous adventure that was insecurity more times than she could count that week, Caleb had approached her. Stating she needed to clear her head, he dropped a glaive at her feet.
That had become her weapon of choice since that day.
As their home materialized on the horizon, the princess increased her pace to walk alongside Caleb. Her thoughts had made her fall behind. Unlike Rafayel, Caleb didn’t wait.
She had come to appreciate he didn’t fawn on her like everyone else in the castle had. If she fell behind, he wouldn’t slow. His protection was provided from a distance.
Seasons transitioned once more, and Caleb continued to train with her by the river. Sometimes they would cool off by jumping in, other times he’d help her try and balance while they stood on the frozen water. They played and they fought. Caleb came out of his shell more and more with each passing month.
It was a humid summer evening a year later when the tables finally turned.
Air was knocked out of his lungs when his back hit the ground, a knee connected with his chest, keeping him pinned. He cocked his head to the side just in time to dodge the blade of her glaive as it embedded itself into the dirt by his ear.
She looked so beautiful when she was triumphant.
“Caleb: two. Pipsqueak: six.”
“We have his location.”
Two years. Two whole years since she had walked out of Rafayel’s study.
Gentle hands stilled over a blade, damp cloth scrunching within her grip. She had waited for such words for so long. She briefly wondered if it was a figment of her imagination.
Caleb’s voice was hushed, the intel delivered by a young mythical being. Even as the small creature relayed delicate whispers, Caleb’s gaze stayed on the princess.
An energy, so weighted and dull, crept over her limbs. Invisible chains tethered her to the ground, wrapped tightly around her arms and legs. Her body was not under her control, completely at the mercy of another.
Caleb always thought he knew better. He deployed methods the majority would consider beyond reason and convention.
Not once in her entire life had she experienced mythical power. Her heart seized, fear gripping her throat with its dark hand, squeezing.
Luckily, all Caleb did was hold her in place.
She wouldn’t need to ask his reasoning, anymore. He anticipated abrupt movements, he foresaw her body quickly rising, unable to contain herself as she would approach and demand answers. It had always upset her, how he never completely trusted she could hold her own.
If she didn’t know any better, Caleb’s ability would have made him an executioner. The hold his gravity locked his victim in, served as his weapon. That executioner’s blade kissed the back of her neck, ready to slice through whenever he ultimately decided.
The man himself approached her, cutting through bustling creatures and humans, stopping in front of the princess. She had been perched on a bench, oiling the sharp end of her glaive.
“Can I let you go without you running straight to him?” He kneeled in front of her.
Obviously, since she couldn’t respond, it was up to him if he was going to believe her or not based on her past with him alone.
His eyes searched hers, then his features softened, resigning completely.
Her body felt as if pounds of metal armor fell off simultaneously.
Caleb sighed, poking her forehead. “I want to be overprotective, but it’s almost as if he wanted his whereabouts to be known. Almost like he’s ready for you to find him.”
“Didn’t have to go that far.” The princess stretched, tilting her head first to the left, then the right.
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t have let that poor soul who had the message get one complete sentence in.”
She would never admit he was correct. His ego was inflated enough.
He held a piece of parchment in between his middle and index finger, extending his hand in front of her. “The location of his meeting is written here. He will be there next week.”
“You’re not coming with me?” She was genuinely surprised, pocketing the parchment before he changed his mind.
“I don’t think Rafayel would appreciate that.” He laughed, shaking his head as if he knew something that she didn’t. “I’ll meet up with you the day after.”
“Okay . . .” This was so unlike him, she was suspicious.
He poked her forehead again. “What? Trust me, Pipsqueak. Go get him.”
The tavern that the princess stood in front of was quaint, light brick walls were embraced by an array of ivy, benches with flower pots hugged the door, and barrels housed assorted plants.
Seemed innocent enough, but she supposed that was the point.
Her hands went to her hair, running fingers through the strands to try and tame whatever she could manage. Her trousers, submerged within knee high boots, had old stains from training, from running, from working around camp. They were recently cleaned the day before, but without the proper tools, stains remained like scars. Then her shirt . . . what a disaster. A few sizes too big, it hung loosely on her frame, the hem shoved into the waist of her pants. Over her shoulders was a large jacket, worn by royalty.
It smelled strongly of crisp apples.
She hadn't left the side of the path since she had stopped in front of the tavern. If she were to be completely honest with herself, she was terrified. As eager as she was to see her Captain again, she knew they had both changed. This was the longest they’ve ever been apart since initially meeting.
Suspense, however, turned out to be worse than the unknown. With that thought, she grasped the door, swinging it open with false confidence.
Taverns were loud. She shut the door quickly behind her, almost fearful of disturbing the peace outside. Customers were rambunctious, laughing, bumping large glasses of ale, resulting in a slosh of white foam landing on tabletops. Women, adorned in worn dresses and aprons carried large plates of boiled chicken.
She wasn’t grimacing from the sight of pale chicken meat, rather, she couldn’t imagine wearing a dress again.
There were other women within the establishment, the ones who weren’t navigating throughout the dining room, avoiding chair legs and boots. Those ladies sat atop laps, fingers playing with the hair of their suitors. Some of those suitors had horns nestled within that hair, some of those women had otherworldly gazes.
Not everyone was a human.
Chandeliers floated above sections of the room, multiple candles were lit, a large fireplace against a far wall was also crackling. The dark red and orange hues within the room made business conducted seem private.
The princess began to make her way to the far corner of the tavern, where the bar was located. According to the intel given to Caleb, he would be meeting there. She had no intention of interrupting whatever personal matter he was addressing.
When she laid her eyes on him, her movements slowed till she came to a stop, simply standing, only capable of staring.
He sat upon a bar stool, one boot on the ground, a long leg bent to allow his other boot’s heel to prop itself against the footrest. His elbow was bent on top of the bar, his cheek pressed to his fist. His other hand was clenched on his thigh.
Strands of his purple hair now reached the base of his neck, rogue strands wrapping around to curl at the sides. Highlights of natural blue meshed with his rich locks of purple, commemorating his otherworldly heritage.
Whomever he was conversing with, led him to talk with his hands. At the tips of his long, nimble fingers, were painted nails, so dark they appeared to be black.
So this was who he was.
It saddened her that she wasn’t able to see it sooner.
A hand wrapped around her forearm, the skin rough with callouses, slightly wet with sweat. It made her shiver in disgust, especially when her head turned, and came to meet the eyes of a gruff mercenary.
It quite frankly irked her.
It would be so easy to obtain the upper hand. She visualized the hold Caleb would want her to utilize, the few quick, swift movements she needed to execute.
Judging by how this man’s gaze slithered down her body, slowly, he wasn’t in the mood for much conversation. And as much as that made that irritation of hers spark, she kept her calm, considering here was not the location to make a scene.
The civil tone between mythical beings and mortals appeared to be fragile, brand new and weak, simply unexplored.
The princess composed herself, taking a deep breath in, she was prepared to speak.
“Let her go.” The room dimmed as she was consumed by a shadow. The being before her stood tall, his hand gripping tight around the mercenary’s wrist. “She’s not yours to touch.”
The hold on her forearm released, allowing the Lemurian to place himself between the princess and the patron. This mercenary was either incredibly brave, or beyond feebleminded. He postured, rising on the balls of his feet subtly to reach the same height as the former Captain before him.
Rafayel scoffed. “I recommend you back down now, while I’m still playing nice.” With one step forward, his opponent took one back. “You’re touching someone who was mine, still is, and forever will be.”
Eyes wandered up his back, focusing on his profile. His brows were slightly furrowed, lips tight in a frown. Not because he was upset or appalled by the human before him. Instead, it was the restraint he was fighting to maintain.
Skirting around him, the princess placed a hand on the mercenary’s chest, continuing to walk him back until his legs hit the table he had been occupying. The glass of his drink rang out against the tabletop as it tipped over from the momentum.
The commotion garnered attention from customers, multiple pairs of eyes zoning in on her, the man, and the Lemurian.
The princess adjusted the suspender that laid upon the side of the man’s chest. She smoothed it out, appearing as if realigning something that was previously out of place.
“Seems you may have had too much to drink.” Overly sweet, her voice mirrored who she used to be, the princess who catered to the people. “I won’t take offense, as long as it doesn’t happen again.”
He took a seat at her words, turning away before embarrassing himself further.
Rafayel hooked his hand underneath her elbow and led her back to the corner where he had originally sat.
She knew they were being watched, even more so when the Lemurian looked over her shoulder.
Rafayel’s eyes flashed a potent blue, surveying the room. He didn’t want to keep his abilities a secret, rather he invited them to look. The audience returned to their previous activities, pretending nothing had happened.
When they finally looked at her, they were painted his calm violet.
She couldn’t breathe, drowning in the troubled waters he drew her into. Disarmed, she never stood a chance. Every illusion she had created during their separation, the daydreams she cultivated, shattered with one glance. Whether she had wanted to be sly, teasing, romantic, or passionate, it all meant nothing. She was truly enraptured.
The princess nearly lost her footing when his eyes trailed down, inspecting every inch of her being. He didn’t care they weren’t alone, this moment was theirs.
“The years have been quite kind to you . . .” Those words were said when he finally reached her boots, after he had taken her all in. Despite being fully clothed, she felt the need to cover herself.
What could she say in return?
Nervous, she laughed. The bartender pushing a rag around the rim of a glass was suddenly her new fixation.
A finger slid up her neck to rest underneath her chin, commanding her. It led her to look back to its owner, his lips revealing a look of disappointment. She hadn't felt his warmth in years. The touch burned, almost unbearably so.
“You may not know what to say.” He closed the distance between them with a single step. “But, please, don’t look away from me.”
Instinct had her wanting to retreat, the relations between a human and mythical being frowned upon. His hand slid around her waist, coming to hold her possessively by her lower back.
With a dip of his chin, his lips parted, enclosing around her top lip, then her bottom.
The gentle possession didn’t allow her a taste, she highly doubted here would even be the place to do so, anyways.
Rafayel groaned, his hand on her back pulling her closer. “That night at the Masquerade made me realize I want others to know . . . to know my lips find yours, my hands touch you, that I call you mine. Here, I can declare that.”
It was true, no one took notice. To those within, they were simply a couple who haven’t seen each other in a long time.
Above all else, he was acting as if they had never been apart.
Kissing him never failed to steal her breath, and his gaze, that enthralling gaze of his, scorched every fiber of her being. The pads of his fingers, or the feeling accompanied them made her wonder how she could survive when he’d eventually do more. It was a double-edged sword.
None of that made her heart race as much as her next thought did.
Abandoning regret, she reached and grabbed his hand. Her fingers pushed between his, connecting their palms.
She felt as if she couldn’t swallow, heart thundering. Holding his hand felt more intimate than anything they had tried so far. Something so simple was foreign to a human who was raised in a world where his existence itself was considered forbidden.
“Come with me?” He nodded his head in the direction of the stairwell. “I rented a room.”
Whether his intentions were innocent or not, she would follow. Any moment alone with him was something she constantly starved for.
Once she granted him a nod, he pulled her along, hands still entwined.
The soft click of the door closing was isolated to her mind.
Distracting herself, she outlined the room with her eyes. A large bed was in the middle, headboard pressed up against the wall. It had a canopy, the blankets thick and rumpled. He had been here already for a few nights. Candles burned on the nightstands, another one on the desk against the wall opposite to the bed.
Expectation would lead her to believe she was supposed to turn around, run into his arms, and kiss him silly.
He came to her first, wrapping his arms around her from behind. His forehead landed gently onto her shoulder, his bangs hanging down against the front of her shirt.
His body stiffened when he inhaled deeply, but he didn’t dwell on that for too long, instead focusing on the solidarity of his princess.
Words expressing how much he had felt her absence tumbled back and forth across his tongue, but they all seemed inadequate, only weak and useless. Nothing could describe the loneliness he endured - the late nights spent wondering what she was up to.
His arms tightened, he would never let her go again.
“Do you want to run away?” He asked. He may have not seen her in years, but he knew Caleb quite well. The man wouldn’t waste a single second in getting the princess up to speed. “Find somewhere quiet, maybe oceans away, a small coastal town where we can live the rest of our days?”
Despite the intensity of his question, she smiled to herself. Leave it to the merman to desire a town that was along the beach. She could imagine a different life with him, walking across the sand hand in hand.
Living a peaceful life at the cost of everything around them wouldn’t sit well with her.
Slowly she turned within his arms, meeting his weary gaze. He was worried what she might say would not align with what he truly thought was necessary. If she chose a different path, he was not sure he could accommodate it.
“It wouldn’t be fair.” She whispered between them. Her answer, it must have been the same as his, because he did nothing but encourage her to continue with a smile. “For us . . . to live in seclusion, side by side, while it would be beautiful . . .”
She would never understand how deeply she was woven into his very soul. How that need for her would physically manifest itself towards her still remained to be seen.
“We’d simply be ignoring our problems.” His lips, familiar, pressed to her forehead. “We have the best chance at changing this, I’d rather die trying, than not give others around us the same hope. I like the way we think, Princess.”
She laughed. “I’m not a princess out here, Raf.”
“Princess.” He addressed regardless, voice trailing off into a low growl. “You think I would give up the opportunity to see that look on your face?”
“Give me another, Princess.” He smirked. “Keep going, just like that, Princess. You take me so well, Princess.” He had leaned closer with each remark, tip of his nose touching hers. “You sure you never want to hear it like that?”
Her fingers played with the buckle on the top of his leather vest, eyes lowered. In the dim lighting, she prayed it hid the ruddiness of her cheeks. “Quite the praiser, aren’t you.” Her mumble could have been mistaken as a pout, easily.
His mouth found hers briefly, just the press of lips. He decided he wanted to draw this out.
He wanted her desperate, unable to string thoughts together. She wouldn't want him, she would need him.
“Want me to please, instead? I’ll do my best to satisfy your every need.” His hands slid around her waist. “I might die if I can’t taste you, Princess. Let me show you how good I can be with my mouth, Your Highness.”
With a small step forward, his hips pressed to hers. “Am I deep enough, Princess?” He was practically purring, teasing as he demonstrated what might be in store for her. “Still want me to drop the title?”
He felt almost cruel when she bit her lip, teeth pinching the thin skin. But he loved it, knowing he could produce such reactions from her. The slight hitch of her breath, the dark, hungry look in her gaze . . . he wanted them all.
The princess moved her hands from his buckle to his face, her thumb playing with his lips. “Quite the talker, my love.” She returned his chaste kiss from earlier, moving her thumb to stroke his cheek softly.
His chest warmed at her endearment, causing him to smile softly. “You still fell for me already knowing I was quite the yapper.”
“Indeed I did, and I’m glad it doesn’t stop behind closed doors.”
His hum was deep, perhaps even a little cocky. And here he was ready with a remark detailing exactly how she just might shut him up.
The next few moments were quiet, just the exchange of breaths, of glances. Neither made the first move, not wanting to disturb the serenity that was their reunion.
A gentle breeze entered the room from the window. The shades encapsulating the opening billowing softly, created the soft swish of fabric colliding then sliding across the wall. Light itself shifted as the flames atop candles curled, struggling to burn.
“Are you staying . . . with me, tonight?” Rafayel found himself apprehensive.
The new beings and humans he worked with were very much unlike the Knights in which he previously led. Throughout his time with these people, he had witnessed rejection, humiliation, and vulnerability. Each emotion produced raw and authentic reactions. While those wounds would eventually fade, the time spent recovering gave the impression that it was rather terrifying.
After the years he had survived, he felt those emotions would be his defeat.
The princess happened to be just as shy, it seemed. “If you wouldn’t mind . . .”
Relief rushed through his body, a smile gracing his lips, his forehead coming to meet hers. Nothing could have stopped him aside from the woman herself when his mouth captured hers. His hands were firm, traveling up her back, gripping the back of the jacket she wore. It had to go, the scent of apples coaxing something primal within.
Heavy, it fell to the ground. He vowed to replace it when he saw Caleb next. The thought of that man he knew rationally shouldn’t stir a rage, but he had witnessed a side of the princess Rafayel had not.
He was jealous.
That feeling, so mighty and robust, would be blamed for his next actions.
He guided them, maneuvering until the princess hit the bed with the back of her legs. His mouth never once left hers, simply changing the angle, applying pressure to make her sit. He bent at the waist, following her so his knee made space between her thighs, pressing into the mattress.
Seamlessly, it’s like she knew where he wanted her hands next. Her fingers struggled, muscles weak with each slide of his tongue against hers, but eventually she undid the buckles, and his leather overcoat landed at the heel of his boot.
It left his arms exposed, the vest he wore concealing parts of him she was most curious about. The pads of her fingers discovered how his arms flexed as he pushed her down, holding his weight over her. The movement forced their kiss to halt. This gifted her sight, the ability to catch the pink dusting along his cheeks.
She adjusted, scooting up the bed a little further, her legs dangling off the side. He didn’t move, his knee still planted, one boot still on the ground.
There were too many possibilities. Her hands on his arms were warm, soothing. He distantly thought a better word would be comforting. It was quite the contrast to the ravenous thoughts polluting his mind.
He could pin her hands above her head with merely one of his, hold her by the wrists, and identify what made her writhe. Her protests would trail off into breathless moans, and he’d catalogue each location in his mind, experimenting between lips, tongue, and teeth. Judging by how responsive she already was, all he would have to do is breathe against soft skin, maybe mutter a few filthy words.
Perhaps he wanted to savor every minute he had. Gently, he might trail his fingers over her collarbone, down her arm, and entwine their hands. If he could somehow tempt her to arch her back, her chest would rise to his lips naturally. His hand would hurt from her grip, yet that pain might arouse him more, as he would be the subject of her release. He’d be her anchor, even when crescents would mark the top of his hand, her nails sharp.
How exquisite that pain would be on the bare skin of his back, gods, maybe even his thighs.
Rafayel realized he was versatile, any route they took would satisfy him because it was her. If her arms wrapped around him, and held him close, falling asleep next to him without a single touch, he’d be content.
With the way she looked up at him; however, he figured that wasn’t the route she wanted to travel.
“What did you think about?” He was curious what thoughts crossed her mind, curious whether they were as obscene as his. “When you were alone at night?”
Eyes widened at his implications. Thoughts that were anything but innocent she had longed to keep to herself, locked up, forever hidden from prying suspects. The way she was caged by his arms, his gaze cradling her, compelled her to expose her vulnerabilities.
The princess was rarely bold, not sure her words would entice. Attempting to seduce Rafayel was a risk - her goal seemingly unachievable. She wasn’t as confident as him, as selective with her words. His tone of voice was unmatched. The alluring notes were threaded so tightly within the blanket of desire that cocooned her entire being.
Rising up onto one hand, her arm locked, positioning her close enough her lips were a whisper away from his. She used her other hand to press on his bottom lip.
“My hands were yours, slow and intimate, until it became unbearable.” His mouth moved closer, but she pulled back, teasing. “I whispered your name, wondering how it would feel on my lips when you finally made me yours.”
“And how did it feel?”
“Too quiet.” Her eyes dropped to his mouth, tilting her chin up to brush her lips against his before retreating once more. “No one knew who I belonged to.”
His hand cupped the back of her neck, refusing to let her run away this time. His kiss was urgent, bordering on that dangerous line, tiptoeing past the boundary to be a little rough. That urge to possess, to claim, seared into his flesh like a curse.
He nearly whined when he realized she’d only ever felt him, her preferences solely his to indulge in.
He obtained the upper hand once more, placing the princess on her back again. Their kiss was still unrefined. He swore she seemed to enjoy that more, yearning to explore unbridled passion.
Rafayel tore at the tie at the top of her shirt, fingers hooking on the thick string and pulling down harshly. Once the fabric was loose, he grabbed one side, tugging to reveal smooth skin. His mouth left hers, wet lips touching her chin, throat, then collarbone. When he welcomed the thin skin into his mouth, between his teeth, he expected hair to twist at the base of his scalp.
Her hands found the sheets underneath, instead.
“Feel good, Princess?” He whispered, his voice shaping small puffs of air that tickled the acute patch of rose dabbled across her skin.
He felt her nod, heard the sheets coil in her grip. He would have preferred to hear her words, so he moved further down, finding the swell of her breast.
A gasp, that was good enough . . . for the time being.
Straightening, he looked down at her moments later. Her top was now crumpled, wrinkled where his hands had pulled. He had been so eager, the hem of her shirt had been yanked from the confines of her waistband, exposing more skin for his mouth to examine. At her hip, her navel, and side, red, messy dots lived.
He hadn’t been able to make her talk, the only indication she felt his mouth were the multiple whimpers, gasps, and breathy sighs she bestowed upon him.
He smirked.
“I painted a masterpiece on your body, and only I get to admire it.” His finger pressed to a forming bruise, his princess arching, lifting a knee, seeking leverage to lift hips. She wouldn’t find it.
Since he was unable to bring his brushes and paint, he hadn't practiced his craft. His supplies were collecting dust deep within his abandoned study at a castle he planned to never return to.
His new canvas was right before him.
He rose to fully rest on the bed, his knees nudging the princess’s so he could kneel in between spread legs. At his ankles, his boots hooked over the edge. If there was one thing that drove her nuts, let alone anyone, were the soles of sullied boots on the bed.
As he slowly unbuckled his vest, the clink of metal ringing loud in the confined space, he observed the woman beneath him taking him in. Even if she was under him, her power over him had no equal. She looked at him as if she was seeing something no one else could, even more so when his leather vest slid down his arms.
Raising her hands as he leaned over her, gentle fingers ran over his chest as if he was fragile. He felt delicate. Sensations he was taught to deny washed over him. He wouldn’t mind seeking refuge within the embrace of the princess, nuzzling her neck while her fingers combed his long hair. He would surrender.
Rafayel grew up in a society where humans defined him as a man, and with such brand, came societal constructs meant to sculpt him into someone strong, someone meant to lead and dominate. It was exhausting - such expectations.
Within her gaze, he appeared with both his strengths and his vulnerabilities. The depths of her eyes reflected beauty.
“I think you need to go . . . a little lower.” Breathless, he licked his lips as he grabbed her wrist, pressing her fingers into his skin, dragging them down his sternum to his abdomen. His stomach contracted. Her eyes dropped to observe the reaction.
“Tickles?” She asked, already knowing better.
“Something like that,” he responded.
Her finger traced down his navel till his waistband stopped her. His hips, without his permission, jerked forward, seeking something that required a little more time to find.
She bracketed his waist with both hands, sliding her fingers beneath the fabric, touching the soft skin underneath.
“This is where it would begin . . . your tail.”
Her observation was so unexpected, Rafayel could produce nothing but a chuckle. “Of all the things I have hidden down there, you’re seriously curious about my tail?”
The princess puffed her cheeks. “In my defense I haven’t seen it since we were kids. And . . .” She paused. “The sirens say you’re the talk of the reef, or whatever you all say.”
“Puh-lease.” He rolled his eyes. “I should be the talk of the entire ocean.”
His pride made her smile, hands traveling back up his body to cup his cheeks. While she was preoccupied with that, he slipped his boots off, letting them fall next to his vest and overcoat.
His hand splayed across her lower back, lifting her slightly so he was able to maneuver them swiftly, allowing them both to lay comfortably on the bed. His head found a pillow as she curled against his side. His hand remained at the base of her spine beneath her shirt, drawing random doodles with his finger.
“I want to know those things . . .” she admitted. “Now that you can speak freely about them, I want to know about that side of you.”
“All you have to do is ask.”
“I wasn’t sure now was the time.”
He chuckled again. “The things I want to do to you . . . shouldn't be done in a rented room above a tavern. I want us to be truly alone, so I can take my time with you.”
Her breath hitched, and she snuggled closer. He pulled the blankets over them, preparing their bodies and minds for sleep.
“My knowledge is yours until I fall asleep,” was his next promise.
And she would ask many things. From the simple questions regarding the colors of his tail, to the more complex, asking whether he aged differently in comparison to a human.
And he would answer them all, voice low, until she fell asleep early into the morning.
When the princess awoke, she squinted, burrowing back into the darkness. Her sanctuary had turned out to be between Rafayel’s jaw and shoulder.
Before surrendering to sleep, they had forgotten to close the curtains, allowing the morning light to intrude and violate her safe haven.
She laid on her side, her leg thrown over his waist. Rafayel’s arm served as her pillow, especially now that she rested her cheek on his shoulder. The arm stuck between their bodies had no use, but her free hand rested on his side.
Rafayel didn’t stir when her thumb stroked over the base of his ribs, hand cupping his side. She watched his face, not sure how to wake him up, let alone if she even wanted to at all.
His sleeping face was majestic, features relaxed, softening his mouth. She suppressed a small laugh, realizing he wasn’t snoring. Instead, he breathed deeply, slowly. It was the mundane things she wanted to learn about and grow accustomed to.
Affection. That’s what she was nurturing within her chest. He was just too precious.
She wanted to show him, shower him in kisses and touches, drive him wild.
“Touch me.”
His eyes were still closed, but a barely visible smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth.
“I can feel you staring, Princess. So do it. Touch me before we have to get up.” Then, he looked down at her. “If you don’t do something, I will.”
A sharp thrill stung her body, motivating her to move, leg fully sliding so she straddled him. His hips were wider than she had originally anticipated, the fabric of her trousers stretching tight over her skin, pulling taut over the right places.
“Always knew you’d look good over me.” He commented, hands moving to rest underneath his head. He looked presumptuous, as if this was exactly how he expected her to react. That light within his eyes sparked, tongue wetting his bottom lip. “I’m at your mercy, Your Highness.”
“I believe you owe me a few favors.”
At first, he was confused. Brows furrowing just enough to display that. Then only seconds later, he was transported to an alcove where his teeth sunk into the firm skin of a princess’s palm. He arched a brow, presenting a challenge.
The night before his upper body had been touched only by her hands.
She would only return one favor this morning.
Where her mouth found his skin set ablaze a sensation so fierce his body felt aflame, his mind feverish.
He hadn't mentioned a covenant when discussing his heritage. How she’d know to choose that area -
Coherent thoughts were impossible for him to form. It was his turn to grip the sheets, back arching as he threw his head back. He whimpered, getting ahold of himself after he exhaled slowly.
His eyes he knew were a striking blue, he could feel the weight of them. Instincts wanted a mark, a tangible symbol that represented their bond.
“Is that as hard as you can bite?” He taunted. It could hardly be considered a bite - her blunt teeth barely applying any pressure, not even pinching. His control was slipping, in frantic need to complete an imitation of a pact. “Bite me like I know you will when I make you - fuck,” he hissed. “Good girl.”
She sat up quickly, catching his face contorted in pleasure. Her fingers trailed over her mark on his left pectoral, right over his heart. His chest rose and fell rapidly, hands trembling at his sides. He looked as if he was drunk, eyes glazed over, blue contrasting nicely against his pink skin. She felt something tick deep within her, leading her pelvis to press down for some relief unconsciously.
She had done that to him.
“Playing with fire, Princess.” He sounded out of breath, a light raspiness accompanying the usual velvet of his voice.
She smirked, emphasizing her following words with a lazy roll of her hips. “Think I can’t handle a little heat?”
His nails dug into the skin at her hip, hands effortlessly slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt. He pulled her down by those hips the same time he raised his own.
She could feel him.
He did it again, torturing them both. “Careful, Princess. I’m starting to not care whether everyone in this tavern hears you screaming my name or not.”
This was different, new to the both of them. The atmosphere was sweet, dripping in outcomes so messy and addictive. Her head was spinning, mouth watering to taste what was right in front of her. She needed a form of relief only he could provide.
Blue eyes widened, absorbing every miniscule reaction that flitted across her features. The shift was visible, mind and body surrendering to him. She would take whatever he gave her.
He couldn’t suppress the groan in time. He knew she’d take it so well.
Neither could resist it anymore, succumbing to the rich desire encapsulating them both. He had to trust she knew how much he loved her, that this wasn’t something purely physical. Because once he started, he wasn’t sure what he might say or do to express his desires. It might be devastatingly gentle, or turbulent and uncontained, prone to having a mind of its own.
She fell into his arms as he rolled them, climbing on top. He hooked her knee in the crook of his elbow, rewarding him with more space to comfortably press himself to her. The fabric between them did nothing to obscure the heat of her.
By the way she closed her eyes, nails finally clawing over his shoulders, it did nothing to conceal him either.
“Are you sure?” He whispered into her ear, the question considerable. She had to know what her consent would entail. He wouldn’t stop halfway, not when she was practically begging for a release. He’s not sure he would stop even after he saw her come undone once, he might even request one more.
She brought his mouth down to hers, breath sharp in an exhale of relief. “Please.” The word was pushed into his mouth along with her tongue.
He didn’t think the room could get any more stifling. He could only hear her, every inhale, every moan when he finally took control of their kiss. Their bodies were hot, the blankets bunched and wrapped uncomfortably around his ankle. He was becoming damp with sweat, slick where their skin touched.
Rafayel found the leverage he needed with his knees, adjusting her leg still held at his elbow slightly. As a warning, he pulled on her lip, diving back in immediately to swallow whatever sounds she was about to make with each drive of his hips.
“For fuck’s sake.” He shot up, climbing off the bed. He threw his overcoat on quickly, leaving his chest, bite and all, exposed.
He opened the door right as Caleb’s fist was coming down to knock. He luckily stopped in time to avoid hitting the Lemurian in the chest.
“You have impeccable timing.” Rafayel’s eyes were still blazing. His passion could quickly turn to rage.
“I waited, but the food is getting cold.” Caleb bit his lip to prevent a chuckle, amusement coursing through his veins. His eyes then drifted down to the mark on Rafayel’s chest. “Pip might not be hungry if she’s indulging in a seafood feast, though.”
“Caleb!” The princess shouted in embarrassment as she slipped into her boots, coming to stand next to Rafayel. Her hair was a mess, cheeks still red. “You’re such a little gravity gremlin!”
He snorted. “Okay, okay, I concede.” He raised his arms as if admitting defeat. He wasn't sure referencing a merman creating an ocean of his own would go over well with the seething Lemurian before him. But there were so many things to say. He’d have to try again at a later time.
“Did I not tell you I would be visiting the next day?” Caleb reminded the princess, lowering his arms to look between the two. He cleared his throat. “Get dressed, there’s much to discuss.”
Rafayel didn’t budge. “You seriously couldn’t wait.”
“As much as this reunion warms my heart.” He caught the attention of the princess. He didn’t need gravity this time, his eyes alone locked her in place.
“The King has finally made his move.”
Notes:
If you're following this story, I'll be out of town for work next week. Might delay the next chapter. Just letting ya know.
The longer I'm writing this fic the more I'm torn going to the dark side and playing with the dynamic of both. Please send help.
Chapter 6: Two's a Company, Three's a Crowd
Summary:
He tore away, beginning to breathe a little harder. Anticipation made his chest tight. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Touch me, Captain.”
Notes:
So . . . what do I say? Left for a work trip, got injured on said work trip. Teehee, hence the delay. Also posted the start of another fic that took some of my attention away from this one. But, we are back, baby!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The princess had been asleep in Rafayel’s arms for the better part of the day. She sat in front of him, caged by his arms as he held the reins, her head was turned so her cheek rested against his chest. When the horse was unsteady, sometimes her forehead would knock against his chin.
Caleb sat astride his own horse, keeping the animal consistent to walk alongside Rafayel’s.
Neither had been unsure what to say to one another since reuniting, and now with the princess asleep, awkward silence had done nothing but ensue, then remain.
Caleb was older, so he should have been the one to know what to do right? Or at least he thought he was older. He never had specifically asked, and he wasn’t sure if Lemurians aged the same -
“Thank you.”
“Huh?”
Caleb had been so lost in thought, he barely had heard Rafayel speak.
“I won’t say it again.” Rafayel huffed, shooting a glance at the human. Gaze lethal, Caleb could only chuckle.
“I know what you said, I just don’t understand why you said it.”
Rafayel shifted, lips softly pursing to press gently to the top of the princess’s head. His eyes closed, breathing deeply. “For keeping her safe,” he whispered.
Offense creeped up beneath Caleb’s skin. Of course he kept her safe. They had fostered a bond unexpected, rooted deep in his core, born from survival. There was no need for gratitude, he would have done it regardless.
“Think that lowly of me?” His hiss intended to cut. He needed the Lemurian next to him to know he was on the defensive. “You think I’d let anyone touch her?”
Rafayel spent the majority of his life observing. That trained skill of his latched onto the subtle clenching of Caleb’s fist. Violet eyes narrowed. As he had expected, the princess and Caleb shared something. That something was unique, protected by a man who was designed to stand by her side.
If that dynamic was a threat or not was a question he would have to save for later.
“You might hate to hear it,” the human continued. “But, she and I lived for a long time under public scrutiny as a couple.” He lifted his left hand, the one that could feel warmth - companionship. “We held hands. Shared a bed. Had to trust one another.”
Rafayel did, in fact, hate to hear it. He was half tempted to retract his thanks, even. Dark shadows curled and played around his heart, inky tendrils slipping past his defenses. With a deep breath in, he forced them out.
“Neither of you had a choice.” He realized as the words materialized within the quiet mountain pass. “We are just pawns in this game, it comes down to what we can offer. If either of you had hesitated, you two would have been disposed of, considered useless.”
That truth made Caleb want to reach across the small space between them, and run his fingers down the princess’s arm in comfort. He didn’t.
“I haven’t told her yet.” Caleb found himself confessing.
Rafayel looked down quickly, double checking the princess remained asleep. While she deserved to know the truth, it shouldn’t be in the middle of an abandoned pathway.
“I could have told her, too, but I didn’t.” Rafayel now lowered his voice. “You’re not the only one to blame.”
What was left between them was once more silence. This time less awkward, more contemplative.
Caleb lifted his gaze, analyzing the natural blueprint of the sky, tracing the curves and soft lines of each cloud, taking note of the birds. The sun warmed his back, casted shadows.
“She’ll be upset.”
Rafayel hummed in agreement. “Who wouldn’t be.”
“I plan to make you my Captain of the Guard.”
“I think I may have given you too much credit in regards to intelligence, then.”
“Think about it,” Caleb urged. “In what position can you give her the most support? Where can you publicly stand by her side?”
Rafayel grimaced, despising the idea of admitting the prince was onto something logical. They both knew that Caleb wasn’t wrong. Rafayel’s silence was his answer. So, Caleb added more.
“Having you by my side will also aid me. To have my right-hand be someone I trust . . . In this situation, it is hard to find. This way as well, I can protect you, too.”
They were an odd group, Rafayel realized. It was them against the majority, a human princess, a modified human prince, and a mythical being. What could possibly go wrong?
”Fine, but I’m not cheap.” Rafayel agreed.” And I’m high-maintenance.”
Caleb laughed, covering his mouth quickly not to wake the princess. His eyes were closed as his shoulders shook, breath sharp against the skin of his hand. When he calmed down, he directed his gaze to hold Rafayel’s.
”I have no idea why she likes you. You are a menace to society.”
What Caleb provoked was a lengthy argument the Lemurian provided, spouting off a list as to why he was an ideal partner. The human was willing to bet all the coins in his treasury that Rafayel had that list written down somewhere.
On the bright side, hearing the soon-to-be reinstated Captain ramble made the long trek through the valley somewhat bearable.
They had left the tavern only a week prior, acquiring two horses with what little currency they had brought with them. Collectively, they hadn't thought to stock up on anything worth any value before they each had fled.
After sitting down the second night they had travelled, all of them huddled underneath an overhang, feasting on rations. They had come to the conclusion they would have enough to at least get them to Caleb’s home.
There, Caleb would have access to his funds once more.
The other two were lucky he was a leading royal, because how else could he support the three of them?
It made him smile to himself, no longer alone in a world where he had to constantly watch his back, and question every word said to him.
That ball of affection grew and pulsed within his sternum, a little supernova that could consume and even destroy. It could also spread and overcome the loneliness he had felt for so many years.
“We will reach the inn within a few hours.” Caleb said, interrupting Rafayel and his endless list. When the merman looked at him with annoyance, Caleb smiled.
He urged the horse on, getting ahead of Rafayel. Not before muttering words that made Rafayel chuckle.
”You have me convinced. I can understand why the princess is drawn to you.”
The princess thrived off fantasy, off of other worlds unimaginable. With a hint of romance, she would be roped into a life written upon pages. Many books were stored beneath the floorboards of her abandoned bedchamber. She had no shortage of genres, each home to a plethora of tropes.
She had never imagined the one bed trope would fall right at her feet - with two males.
“There’s no other rooms?” Rafayel asked the innkeeper once more. “If you even got a closet -”
“My lord,” the innkeeper interrupted, the sigh she let out was poorly hidden. “Either you take the room, or you don’t.”
“We’ll take it.” Caleb said with a smile, leaning forward to push coins across the counter. “Please excuse my companion, he’s been in the saddle a long time.”
“Oh good God.” The princess complained under her breath. She felt Rafayel stiffen by her left side, felt his stare that passed over her head, directed to the human at her right. The two were in constant competition, it seemed.
The innkeeper slid the key to Caleb, who in return nodded his head. He turned, and began to walk up the stairs first, Rafayel followed. The princess was last, but she didn’t miss the look she received from the young woman.
A wink and nod from her told the princess exactly what she thought.
“It’s not like that!” The princess nearly stomped her foot, face completely flushed. She scurried up the stairs, finding both Caleb and Rafayel waiting at the top.
“Considered shoving me into a closet, did you?” Caleb ground out, back turned to the stairs. Rafayel was standing facing him, his eyes darting to land on the princess before returning to the human.
“Well I certainly wasn’t considering shoving the princess into a closet.”
The woman in question ran a hand through her hair, realizing it was going to be a long night. Stuck in bed between the two might mean a night of boundless chatter.
She paused. Bold of her to assume she was going to be lying between the two.
When Rafayel and Caleb were civil enough to make it to the door, the princess entered first. At this point, she didn’t want to cast a look in either of their directions. One little opening, and both of them would take it.
The bed was sizable, large enough to fit all three of them. However, it would be a tight fit. Across from the bed was a door that accessed the bathroom. Within was a bath large enough for a certain merman to possibly submerge himself and his tail.
As it was later in the night, Caleb returned to the horses to grab their saddlebags, while Rafayel went on the hunt for a hearty dinner. The princess took that time to slip into the bathroom and take a bath, washing off the sweat and muck of their travels.
Caleb mentioned they should reach his castle by midday the next day. She had been briefed, relieved that Rafayel would take his previous position. She was confident it would be a much better experience under Caleb’s rule.
While Caleb was no King, his Kingdom didn’t have one. The prince he had replaced was the last royal in that particular realm. Caleb wouldn’t take the crown until he had a princess, a partner to declare the future Queen. It wasn’t a tradition he wanted to abide by, but he would lose the respect he cultivated for many years if he didn’t follow the rules.
Caleb revealed to his companions that he had sat and questioned why his advisors were so hell bent on a princess standing at his side. He understood that it secured an alliance, but he was certain he could achieve that solely off of politics.
It left only one thing they had set their grimy sights on - an heir.
Which reduced the princess to be valued for her ability to carry a child.
That didn’t sit right with him. It was all sorts of complicated, because his status couldn’t grow unless he had her hand in marriage, and children hadn’t even crossed his mind yet.
The princess marrying Caleb all in itself created a dilemma all three refused to acknowledge.
She heard the bedroom door open, and she climbed out of the tub, drying quickly to wrap the towel around herself. The smooth baritone of the two talking carried beneath the bathroom door, granting her a sense of peace as she got dressed.
When she emerged, Caleb and Rafayel were seated at the small table in front of the empty fireplace. Bread, cheese, and fruit colored the dull wood of the tabletop.
As her and Caleb ate, Rafayel washed up. When he was done, Caleb went in after. They sat together for a few hours, discussing the route and provisions, when to water the horses. It was a form of procrastination, avoiding the elephant, or the bed in the room.
She chose her location first, lying smack dab in the middle. Caleb didn’t make much of a fuss, joining her on the side furthest from the door. That left one location for Rafayel.
“You are exactly two inches closer to Caleb than you are to me.” Rafayel huffed, propped up on his elbow as he looked at the two of them.
The princess laid facing the Lemurian, her eyebrow arching at the accusation.
What she hadn't seen, was at Rafayel’s remark, Caleb wiggled his brows and stuck his tongue out behind her.
“That’s it.”
His arm went around the princess’s waist, essentially scooping her up, sliding her towards him as he rolled over her. Now, he laid between her and Caleb.
“I think I prefer the other way.” Caleb muttered.
“I’m sure you do.”
The princess was near the edge of the bed, having to lay on her side otherwise she would fall off. Rafayel’s body heat had warmed the mattress, making her almost uncomfortable. All of them exuded too much heat for the humid night.
It led her to lay in silence until the two of them fell asleep. They might have bickered nonstop, but within their subconscious both had obtained a certain level of respect for one another. The princess might have argued it was a friendship neither could live without. She could only imagine that if someone else spoke to Rafayel the way Caleb did, or the other way around, neither would tolerate it.
She would never tell them that Rafayel scooted a little closer to Caleb in his sleep, and Caleb rolled to face the Lemurain. That would mean both admitting they felt comfort in each other’s presence.
She had to chuckle to herself, sitting up to look at them both. She didn’t like sleeping on the side closest to the door, so she meandered over to the couch located near the window. It was warm enough she didn’t require a blanket, and a few throw pillows were located atop the cushions already.
There was where she drifted off to the land of dreams.
Rafayel and Caleb stood over her hours later. The Lemurian had his arms folded, and the human rested his hands at his hips.
“This is definitely your fault.” Caleb said matter-of-factly, voice hushed as it was still early morning. “She would have been perfectly fine between us.”
Why Rafayel’s mind drifted to somewhere suggestive with those particular words was rather startling to him.
He gently lifted the princess into his arms, carrying her back to the bed to set her down in the middle. He crawled in next to her, then looked at Caleb expectedly.
“We don’t speak of this, understand?”
Caleb bit his lip, trying not to smirk. He too got back into bed. “Not a word.”
The princes awoke late in the morning. She made a groggy comment that she had gotten the best sleep of her life, stretching and yawning. She was alone in the bed, unsure how she returned to the mattress.
Rafayel and Caleb stood by the door, saddlebags packed. Not a single wrinkle was in their clothes, hair perfectly styled. They must have been up for a while, eager to go.
“Chop - chop, Princess. We got ground to cover.”
It didn’t take long for the princess and the Captain to become well acquainted with Caleb’s castle. It was similarly laid out compared to their previous home, albeit it was much smaller. There wasn’t any need for gaudy decorations or murals. Even so, the interior was positive, beautiful, and bright. Flowers lined the halls, catered to by servants who appeared delighted with their roles.
Caleb had arranged that all their rooms were on the same floor.
Rafayel for the first time had a full room, full study, and a washroom large enough to fit his tail should he had desired it. Where he would bathe was built in-ground, mimicking a pool large enough to fit five or six tubs. The others didn’t need to know he would sometimes lay in a tub, tail hung over the edge. What Caleb had supplied for him, made it so his tail could remain beneath clean water. Maybe there was even enough room for him to swim around.
Again, no one needed to know that, however.
The princess was across the way, and Caleb’s room was adjacent to his.
The first few nights, he had meandered across the hall to knock on the princess’s door. It felt uncomfortable not to stand guard at night, the transition foreign.
She hadn't answered, and he had presumed her asleep.
Until he heard the books fall, a squeak, and a masculine laugh. At the end of their hall was a massive library, equipped with a seating area.
Caleb and the princess had been spending the evenings cooped up discovering what the library had to offer. Before their arrival, the generous space had felt too immense to adventure through alone, so Caleb never appreciated the room.
Rafayel joined them that night he had heard the chaos that was the princess trying to transport a stack of books. It had become their nightly routine.
That safe haven was also where Caleb and Rafayel decided to tell her the truth.
They had to watch her expression as they revealed quietly that experiments were still undergoing under their supervision. That after the two of them had escaped so long ago, they hadn't possessed the capabilities at the time to prevent it, or stop the entire operation.
Even when they had obtained enough jurisdiction to make such a drastic change, discovering that the princess’s father was behind the experiments and orchestrating her future marriage, halted their plans.
Caleb had the authority to challenge the King, Rafayel did not. In order to stay in the King’s good graces, and permit a marriage between Caleb and the princess, they would have to continue the King’s ambitions.
Originally, the princess had been a pawn in his scheme, a tool to get closer to the King. That wasn’t the case anymore.
What they had expected was the princess to stand, maybe leave. They agreed they would have accepted any harsh judgement, anger, and mortification.
She remained silent and composed. Her eyes would slowly alternate between them, hoping they had more to say.
Her faith in them was a relief, because they had none.
“The beings who sacrifice their abilities are volunteers.” Caleb breathed out, his leg crossing over the other where he sat in the padded chair. “Usually they are mythical entities who are near death, or have an ability that is hard to control. Some simply don’t want them. They aren’t abilities your father favors, which is why this was not thought of by him.”
“The ones that receive the abilities,” Rafayel took over. He leaned against the wall beside the fireplace, elbow resting on the mantel. “Some are in similar situations, given a tough life, or terminal illness. Others . . . Well they are convicted criminals, hand-chosen by Caleb or I. It’s either life in prison, judgement at the gallows, or joining our fight.”
”It’s the best we could do to . . . Make it somewhat merciful.” Caleb added.
“If we had our way, it would have never come to this.”
The princess placed her trust in them. Their resigned expressions and clenched jaws spoke volumes.
Stringing the correct words was a difficult task to complete. They wanted her approval and validation. What could she say to ensure that? If she said anything comforting, they’d believe she was just being generous.
So, she walked over, leaning down to kiss Caleb on the cheek. His scent was warm, apples with a tint of substance that was thick and gooey. Honey? Vanilla? Whatever it was reminded her of a sweet drink laced with brisk fruit.
Her lips found the soft skin of Rafayel’s cheek next. Familiar, his existence was irreplaceable. He didn’t need to touch her for her to sense his embrace.
As she went to exit, her hand skimming down the wooden door, she gave them a small smile.
“In this world, in which we must make sacrifices to defeat something larger than life itself, you did what you had to, to survive.”
Before him was a woman he couldn’t recognize.
“Let me show you the true art of combat.” Rafayel jabbed, winking at Caleb who sat still on the sidelines.
They had gathered at the training grounds. It was mid afternoon when trainees and Knights were indoors or on duty. Personnel who required the training grounds made use of it in the morning, when the sun hadn’t yet reached its peak.
“I can hear you loud and clear.” The human responded, folding his arms. “I’ll have you know I taught her well.”
“We will see about that.”
The princess, witnessing their interactions, stood steady. She wouldn’t put it past the two to purposely be trying to catch her off guard.
She had been an observer one too many times when she was younger, watching from afar as Rafayel took on his opponents. While always fair, he was still a trickster.
His dagger was the length of his forearm, and he usually wielded it in a way where the tip of the blade almost touched his elbow. For safety, he kept the sheathe on, just as she had with her glaive.
“Oh how hot it is.”
With a dramatic flourish, Rafayel unbuttoned the top few buttons of his white shirt, failing miserably at hiding his smirk.
So, it had begun.
“Keep in mind, Pip, I never had to resort to such underhanded methods.” Caleb commented.
“As if your body would do anything for her.”
Out of the corner of her eye, the princess caught Caleb reaching for the top of his own shirt. When his thumb pushed one circle of wood through, she had to look away.
Rafayel parried the attack just in time, his eyes dropping to the wrist that supported his defense. His princess was strong, the glaive pushing harder against his dagger. But not enough to best the Captain.
“Oh? This intense, huh?”
“I saw an opening, I took it.” She shrugged.
Rafayel pushed her away with a shove of his dagger, immediately creating space between them.
They circled one another, eyes direct and focused.
”This isn’t going to be some weird form of foreplay for you two, is it?” Caleb sighed. The princess could hear the slide of skin as he ran his hand over his face.
”Well,” Rafayel flipped his dagger in his hand, idle. He was well aware the princess fancied his cocky facade. “The princess and I will be all hot and sweaty, exerting our bodies, and in close contact. What do you think?”
The princess didn’t hear Caleb’s response, all attention still trained on the Lemurian acting all non-chalant in front of her.
Rafayel knew his princess was waiting for his attack, assuming he was purposely stalling. He wouldn’t have been lying if he said he wasn’t.
She was guarded appropriately, her glaive allowing for a diagonal barrier. The weapon was a few inches taller than her as well, preventing any openings from her boots to the top of her head. That left her sides and rear open. Her eyes didn’t roam over his body, they remained on his own, waiting for a spark that would indicate his next move.
Caleb, indeed, had done a job well done.
After his time with the princess, he’d be interested in challenging Caleb to a friendly spar - gravity against fire.
She was adorned in boots and loose trousers, the only thing truly wrapped around her body was her top. It was another halter, similar to the dress she wore at the Masquerade years ago. Except, this served simply as a shirt, disappearing beneath her waistband. With her arms completely exposed, he could identify the growth of muscles.
He licked his lips. She just might have been capable of truly pinning him down.
“Get that mind of yours out of the gutter.” She lunged, stance solid yet agile.
Caleb chuckled to himself, leaning back onto both his hands as he watched the princess give it her all. They were a blur of steel and limbs, dodging and attacking. Clouds of dust expelled around their boots, the rough grind of dirt crushing beneath soles filling his ears.
Sweat trickled down the side of the princess’s face, slithering in front of her ear and curling down her chin.
“Tired, sweetheart?” Rafayel taunted. “We can work on that stamina -“
Caleb burst into a howl of laughter when the princess took the pole of her glaive and swiped at Rafayel’s feet, effectively tripping him. The merman rolled to recover, stopping on all fours. The princess kneeled in front of him, tilting his chin up. She kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose.
“I’m tempted to say something about you crawling to me, Captain.” She teased.
Sensuality was concentrated between them, the shift obvious. They weren’t simply sparring any longer, it became an undertaking of who could overpower who. Not in a battle of harming, but rather seducing.
A dagger and glaive lay forgotten in the sand, the two using hand to hand combat as their vice. Caleb could have sworn they simply wanted hands on one another.
One minute Rafayel would be on top of the princess, a knee to the left of her hip, a boot to her right. His hand was next to her head, the other attempting to trace her mouth.
She flipped them in time, gaining the upper hand to pin his wrists down.
The princess missed it. Caleb didn’t.
This position was nothing but a meticulous plan concocted by Rafayel. The Captain reminded Caleb of a possum. The Lemurian would most likely argue the prince was making a jest at his appearance, comparing Rafayel to a rodent. It wasn’t that at all. Rafayel was playing dead, swindling his opponent to believe his energy was in the reserves. Then, the princess would lower her guard, interest lost.
Caleb noticed it from the start, the princess’s weakness was her back. She left it unguarded. Rafayel surpassed Caleb in physical combat, so he must have noticed it with the first step she took towards him.
He would teach her in his own ways. Caleb doubted he wanted to attend that lesson.
The prince was oh so thankful when a Knight approached him, requesting his presence in the throne room. Caleb couldn’t get up fast enough, walking quickly so the Knight would match his pace.
Once Rafayel could no longer track Caleb, he made his move.
The princess lost her grip. In a spray of sand, and a flurry of quick movements, she was up on her feet. Rafayel wasn’t in front of her any longer, his breath sharp against her scalp.
The princess’s body jerked, but Rafayel’s hold was firm. His grip did not bruise, nor did it hurt. It was a restraint.
“Shh.” He hushed against her ear. Even though his breath was against the shell of her ear, she felt the back of her neck tickle in sensual temptation. “I have you,” he promised.
His heartbeat was a constant against her left shoulder blade. Her muscles there ached, stretched back to accommodate his grasp. Closing her eyes, she composed herself, finally relaxing at his request.
“Good girl,” he found himself praising, the sounds tentative, ready to hide away should she not desire them.
The last time he had said such words, they had slipped past his lips, pulled from instinct.
This time, her head came back, resting against his shoulder. Turning her head towards him, he kissed her forehead. There was nothing that held them captive - that prevented him from releasing her.
“Tell me to stop if you want, because I don’t know what this is.” He transitioned her hands at her lower back to be held by one of his. The hand of his that was free snaked around her waist then traveled up from navel to sternum. When she didn’t protest, it dared to travel further, curling around her throat. She swallowed. He felt it against his palm.
“And why would I do that?” She was enjoying it too much. She had known him long enough to know when pushed, he’d retaliate. “We can explore this, if you’d like.”
“Don’t start something you can’t handle.” His words were meant to be pleasantly dangerous, but his voice shook, unsure.
She would never admit how much she loved when it sounded like he was losing control.
“Is that a threat? Or a promise?”
Her steady lead gave him permission to fall in and explore.
His thumb drug over the side of her jaw, tracing the underside of her bottom lip. He watched the plush skin mold to the press of his finger. Through thick lashes, she looked up at him.
“It’s whatever you want it to be.” Without any resistance, his thumb ventured between her lips, the pad applying pressure atop the flat of her tongue. He nearly hissed when she pulled it deeper in. ”Would you do what I said? Follow my every command? Let me make you feel good?”
He slid his hand free from her mouth, entranced by parted lips. “I trust you,” she whispered.
With his hand back at her throat he held her in place as his lips claimed hers. For once, nothing held him back. He dominated, relishing in the fact she could do nothing but accept his kiss. When he wanted more, his thumb returned to her chin, pulling down to widen his access.
He was vaguely aware of her shoulder digging into his chest, head turning to try and get closer to him. She was just as hungry as he was.
He pulled away, moving to touch his lips against the skin beneath her ear, hand tilting her head away so he could cover more ground.
His forearm rested across her chest, against her sternum. Her breaths were uneven, the vibration of a whine caressing his sleeve.
She was putty in his embrace, pupils dilated as her tongue wet her lips. Bedroom eyes was a term he’d never understood, read about it in the books he would read after her, investigating. He thought the author was pulling for anything to sound lyrical.
How she looked at him in this very moment was how she’d look when he finally took her.
Deep within he ached.
Eyes scanned the foliage near the training grounds. They wouldn’t make it back to either of their chambers, he couldn’t see them barely making it past the doors to the barracks. A passionate tryst against a weapon’s wall wouldn’t do.
“Follow me.”
He pulled her through tall grass, feet stumbling over clumps of weeds and flowers. It was clumsy and rushed, barely considered spontaneous. It made his princess giggle, a smile hooking on the corner of his lips.
A few tree trunks in wasn’t deep enough, he continued in until the barracks and ring were out of sight, blurred by brush. A path was a suitable distance away, patrolled by Knights mornings and evenings.
“I know, I know,” he cooed, his body nearly trembling like hers. He had her pressed up against a tree, his hand frantically unbuttoning the top of her trousers. “Nothing will stop me today, Princess, nothing. I will give you what you need.”
Her lips were parted slightly, eyes half-lidded and locked on him. Her forehead, pressed to his, kept them close and intimate. She kissed him once, simply making contact.
“Unless you don’t want it.” His palm, flat on her navel, allowed for fingertips to dip below her waistband. “Want my touch, your Highness?”
She nodded, grabbing onto him by his hair as she kissed him again.
He tore away, beginning to breathe a little harder. Anticipation made his chest tight. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Touch me, Captain.”
Fingers slid further down at her command. They groaned in unison, his deep and sultry, hers light in welcome surprise.
He was captivated, encountering slick heat. Although, true to his nature, he couldn’t help but tease. “Is this all for me, Princess?”
Her eyes opened, watching him. She gasped, body jerking with a confident press of his finger. He tilted his head in fascination, all attention on her expressions.
For a split second, jealousy radiated through her body, twisting tight in her chest. He knew where to touch, how much pressure to apply, somehow trained in an art he claimed he’d never practiced.
When logic returned, she always knew he was a quick learner.
“Another?”
She felt his hesitation and curiosity. When she nodded, the flicker of relief within his eyes didn’t go unnoticed.
Her hands found his shoulders at the slow intrusion, searching for his support.
As this was unexplored territory for the both of them, she didn’t expect perfection, if ever. The only part that mattered was that it was him.
He waited quietly, patient as she adjusted. He kissed her slowly. Her mouth matched his methodical pace, distracting her.
When her jaw went slack, fingers framing his cheeks, surrendering to his invasion, he pushed forward.
Teeth found her ear, his presence crowding her till she was locked between his body and the tree.
“Think I couldn’t hear you when I stood guard outside your chambers at night?” His fingers curled, her breath hot against his ear as he whispered into hers. Confidence was slowly but surely being gained. “I could always imagine you biting your lip, legs spread, hand buried where mine should have been.”
She could feel the heat of his face, the soft shell of his ear even warmer against her skin. Even if she could not see him, she could visualize the red tint across his cheeks, wrapping around to dust his ears. How could he be so bold yet equally hesitant?
The princess had intended to respond with words just as potent, but her voice trailed off into a low moan.
“God, you're something else.”
His mouth, open and wet, found her neck. Her skin was salty, dampened with sweat as her body began to writhe. He needed something to distract himself before more words spilled out, some even more obscene than the last. While it was obvious she enjoyed his words, he had to remind himself they were merely behind a tree. The princess wasn’t thinking, so he had to be the responsible one.
Even with her needy in his embrace, her reputation and safety were still his priority.
It was hard to maintain the balance between protector and lover.
He smirked. Only he could drink in the sight of her disheveled. What a tragedy.
His knee pressed between her legs, positioning him closer, his body beared down on her, crushing his arm between them. He didn’t care, it was chaotic and messy, a product of whatever was between them.
Love, he knew that. He knew that was what their bond now consisted of. But rather, he was unsure of the trajectory of its manifestation.
“Princess,” he warned, fingers sinking deeper. His mouth caught hers to silence her gasp. When he spoke next, his lips moved across hers. “Need to keep it down.”
He was aware his request was unfair, considering he had made specific actions to elicit a reaction.
Her head hit the back of the tree, mouth open to accommodate faster breaths. Strands of her hair, dark with moisture, clung to her face. Her gaze held his, her body moving to meet his rhythm.
He needed to get her truly alone, sooner rather than later. Preferably with a bed.
Or a wall, perhaps a dresser, maybe the fluffy rug situated in front of the large fireplace -
“Raf.”
Her fingers twisted the front of his shirt, neck tense as she arched a little more. He could feel it, the clench of her around his fingers. The more she struggled, the more her grasp on his shirt pulled on him, his collar digging into the back of his neck.
“Close?” His whisper was warm against her lips. His teeth pulled on her bottom lip, sucking the soft flesh so his tongue could taste. “Going to make a mess of my hand?”
His thumb circled sensitive, swollen skin, movements becoming more rapid with each lurch of her body.
She could feel the weight of him against her hip, her hand sliding down to relieve him, only for instinct to grasp his wrist when he pressed a little harder, a little deeper. She didn’t push him away, attempting to pull him even closer. It wasn’t enough.
“More,” the request was breathless, beautiful eyes closing as if fighting for something.
“More?” Rafayel leaned in, his nose nuzzling the skin beneath her ear. Her scent was sweet, enticing his senses. “Not here, Princess, you’re going to have to take whatever I give you here and now. Can you do that for me?”
She nodded again, hips pressing down to take just a little more. His fingers were long, adept at providing pleasure. But she was almost delirious, caught up in desire so tempting. Whatever he did, whatever he said, she'd only want more.
With each roll of her hips, Rafayel's control waned. Unconsciously, or consciously, he wasn’t sure, the side of her hip was pressing into him. His own arousal, left neglected, became increasingly difficult to ignore. It made him feel strung tight, at a limit he might even consider addicting.
As much as he wanted to take his time, bring her to the edge, then tease and play, the setting sun was a natural clock, indicating their time was almost up, and Knights would wonder where their princess ran off to. He would have plenty of time in the future where he might witness tears of pleasure.
“That’s it,” he coaxed, sensing uncoordinated movements. She was chasing her gratification. “Take what you need from me.”
She had no control, not anymore.
“Give it to me, Princess.”
His free hand came to cover her mouth, muffling her shout, gaze holding his. He’d never seen a woman fall apart, could only imagine it when he thought of her on his own.
He could see the rapid beat of her pulse in the side of her neck, the blush that spread from her cheeks down her neck, splatters of red forming across her collarbone. He saw the rise, then fall of her chest, and felt the spasms of her body. If her legs were wrapped around his waist, holding him within her, he’d be able to feel them shake.
Rafayel removed his palm from her mouth, skin wet from the condensation of her harsh breaths.
His fingers, stained with her essence, came to his mouth. They rested against his lips, lingering. No words needed to be exchanged, he read her mind, just as she read his.
Those words he had spoken within the tavern room echoed in their memories.
’I might die if I can’t taste you, Princess.’
Never looking away, his tongue peaked out, following the glistening trail.
The princess wondered if the temperature dropped, chills scattered over her skin, breath caught deep in her throat. Partners were rumored to never please in that aspect, avoiding connecting mouths to parts considered sullied.
As his fingers disappeared between his lips, she realized he wouldn’t hesitate to taste from the source.
To see him lose composure, she would do the same.
Naturally, she envisioned it. Violet eyes watching her from below, inner thighs near his ears, her fingers running through his hair, back and forth along his scalp. When he wouldn’t want her to move, an arm would slip between the back of her thigh and mattress then bend so a hand could press down on her lower stomach.
Maybe, she might be against a wall, a leg thrown over his shoulder as he kneeled. He would urge her with hands on her backside, painted nails tearing at her stockings, forcing her body to be held up by her upper back, completely at his mercy.
That fantasy led her to touch him, hands running over his covered chest back to his shoulders. Before they rested there, however, she grabbed his hand to remove it as it currently obscured her path. She rose on her toes, kissing him.
The mixture of them on her tongue wasn’t unpleasant.
“What about you?”
Rafayel wasn’t sure he could process whatever came next. He couldn’t believe she was kissing him after what he had just done.
“What about me?” He had to ask, unable to think.
One hand traveled down past his waistband, resting over him through his trousers. He groaned, reaching down to cover her hand, pressing her more firmly against him. That’s all he would give himself, for now.
”Don’t worry about me. We need to get out of here.”
The princess didn’t budge, gaze defiant as if the thought of leaving him untouched was a sin she’d never even consider committing.
“I took a vow to serve and protect you, Your Highness.” He reminded her, nipping at the tip of her nose. “Your image and reputation are priorities of mine. Last thing we need is guards finding you on your knees for the prince’s Captain.”
She knew if the risk wasn’t so great, he wouldn’t have thought twice about giving her the opportunity to pleasure him.
He wasn’t finished yet. “But as your Knight, my promises hold true. Once we are in a suitable place, you can have your way with me. My body will be yours to explore however you see fit.”
“You always find a way to get the upper hand, though,” the princess protested. He always had, even when they were children, no matter the activity. Even during study hours, when tutors would mentor and punish, he had to outshine in academics.
“I never said you couldn’t prevent me from doing so.” His voice was dark, baiting indecent thoughts. “I’m not averse to being tied up.”
“As if you wouldn’t break free.”
He smirked. “Sometimes, I like to play the game and abide by your rules.”
There it was, his permission.
He tugged on her hand, using momentum to pull her away from the tree and into his arms.
He hugged her, head simply resting on her shoulder. His embrace was a shield, defending their intimacy, the shared vulnerability, something so delicate and solely theirs.
They couldn’t reflect in a space of their own, so he would have to create one.
Her arms slid up his back, one hand cupping him behind his neck, the other resting between his shoulder blades. She cuddled into him, caged between his collar and chin.
“Let’s get out of here.” Rafayel suggested.
She squeezed him one last time. While promises could be made between them, the impending conflicts might just destroy opportunities in the near future.
Between them every second counted. She truly desired a time where it could just be them in a location that provided safety and comfort. Somewhere where not only she could just let go, but he could as well. He always took care of her, put his needs above hers.
Her vow was silent. She'd take care of him next, let him shatter then piece him back together.
A picnic table deep within the forest turned out to be her favorite place for thought. It was within Caleb’s domain, a forest off to the side of the castle complete with pathways, pavilions, streams, and lakes. She encountered a few Knights along the way, creatures on guard who didn’t pay her much mind.
Becoming their next Queen would most certainly be the reason they respected her without a question.
That responsibility sifted through her brain frequently. As her eyes scanned the scenery around her, she once again felt the nagging sensation to identify a solution.
Caleb, and his position, allowed her to take control of the Kingdom she had lost. While she had no ambition to lead, what her home currently stood for would infect and spread across the entire world. There would never be peace between mythical beings and humans.
So, would she take her place as a ruler and fight that battle?
But what about Rafayel?
He would have to remain in her shadow as their dutiful Captain. While Caleb would permit their relationship, she couldn’t ask Rafayel to hide their love behind closed doors, in the dark, and quiet. Unable to evolve to its full potential.
While she held Caleb’s hand, and kissed his cheek, Rafayel would be able to do nothing but watch, hold her hand later, then replace Caleb’s kiss with his own. She would never be able to look at him and the expressions he might make as a spectator.
The worst part was, deep down within, there was a small piece of herself she despised.
The reality was, how would living a life with Caleb as her husband affect her heart?
She was no fool, Caleb was also someone capable and deserving of love. In Rafayel’s absence, those few years she spent as the human’s, although a farce, allowed her to experience something new.
“Found you.”
A cup touched the side of her head, then someone took a seat next to her, his arm warm as it pressed into hers.
Tea was placed in front of her with a plate of sliced apples.
“Caleb” she acknowledged, not moving away.
“You’re thinking so hard I can see the steam coming off top of your head, Pip.”
The princess met his stare, while he was teasing, his gaze was intense, concerned. He truly cared for her.
She nudged him with her shoulder, not having much to say in return because he had spoken the truth. Instead, she took a slice of apple, savoring the initial crunch between her teeth.
“Followed the smoke signal too, huh.”
The remaining slice of apple held by her fingers was suddenly stolen. Her eyes followed Rafayel as he finished the slice, sucking the juice off his thumb as he took a seat across from her and Caleb.
“Delicious.” He winked.
Caleb groaned at the same time the princess could picture a gaze full of heat and promise.
“Anyways,” the Lemurian ignored the both of them, reaching for yet another slice, this time taking it from the plate. “We have things to discuss.”
“No shit.” Caleb muttered beneath his breath, exacting revenge for the princess by abducting the slice from Rafayel with a grapple of gravity. “Should have titled you Captain of the Obvious.”
Rafayel rolled his eyes, not subtle in the slightest. He set his focus on the Knights standing guard a few feet behind their prince. He waved his hand, dismissing them. This was to be a conversation only between the three of them.
“Soon, this castle will be under siege.” Rafayel transitioned into his role. “The King has revealed the location of the experiments, and who funds them.”
Caleb nodded in acknowledgement, eyes narrowing as he began to get lost in thought. “We’re lucky news doesn’t spread fast from his Kingdom to ours.”
The princess swirled the tea in her cup, watching the transparent liquid create a whirlpool. Her brows were furrowed, disappointment and understanding clashing within.
Her disappointment wasn’t directed at them, no. She understood their reasoning, and was appreciative they altered the process to make it as humane as they possibly could. Her heart sank because they all had been brought into this without their permission, forced to do things they wouldn’t usually.
Initially, she had wanted to do nothing but scream, and ask why they would continue to bestow the same fate to others that had been brought upon them. That would none of them any good, what was done was done.
”It’s not like we can deny it, either.” Rafayel added. “The King was smart to be the one to expose the project, no one would believe he was the founder.”
”Stating the truth, that we only continued such experiments to secure my marriage with his daughter, doesn’t justify anything, either.” Caleb said. “That would mean confessing to treason.”
“And why would that be an issue?” The princess chimed in, although quietly. The two had been conspiring for years, she hadn’t been privy to previous conversations. “Our absence should already signify treason.”
“Your father has too much pride to admit that we fled.” Rafayel countered. “If anything, I’d bargain he stated you are here to spend time with your betrothed, and I’m at your side as usual, for protection.”
“Do we have a date set for the wedding?” Was her next question.
”No, not yet.” Caleb muttered, munching on yet another apple. He too licked the tip of his finger, but made no comment. “I’ve been delaying it as long as I can.”
“Do we want to talk about what will happen when you can no longer delay?”
The princess’s inquiry led to silence.
The leaves rustled around them, bombarded by a soft breeze. Rafayel’s hair swayed, loose strands eclipsing the churning blue and pink that made the dark violet of his eyes. His gaze itself was relaxed, abdicating his will to the two before him.
He would serve his purpose no matter which direction they took.
The knife of decision stabbed and twisted, violent and crude. It was moments like these where she was reminded, no matter how much she wanted to kick and scratch, tear down the walls built, he still would not receive the recognition he deserved.
How could the world be so foolish?
“Who wants the last slice?” Caleb broke the silence, pushing the plate between the two. His voice was uncharacteristically cheerful, trying his best to let them know now was not the time to make such a hefty decision.
The princess took the last bit of apple, chewing on it slowly as she looked at the tabletop. She couldn’t fake a smile even if she wanted to.
“The princess and I need to make a public appearance.” Caleb kept the conversation going, aware some things needed to be addressed regardless how uncomfortable it made them. “Probably just a little stroll through town, that’s all that’s needed.”
“Works for me, I have things to do here that will keep me-”
”You’re coming with,” Caleb stated firmly. “They need to see you, too.”
“Nuh uh, no, no, and nope.” Rafayel argued.
“It’s an order, Captain.” Caleb leaned forward on the table to get a leg out from under and over the bench. He brushed off his thighs. “Would you defy your prince?”
The princess knew what he would say. So, she beat him to it. “Or your princess?”
“Fine.” The Lemurian stood next, pouting. “But I won’t be happy about it.”
Caleb smiled, holding out an arm for the princess to hold as she stood. Apparently she had failed to hide that her legs had fallen asleep a few minutes prior.
“We never asked you to.”
It was odd, nostalgic even. Her right hand was nestled within Caleb’s left, secure in a grasp so soft and firm.
Rafayel, who walked alongside Caleb on his opposite side, originally thought it would have irked him more. While he remained alert, he watched the two interact.
The princess had always been welcoming since he could first remember. As a kid, it'd make him try harder to obtain and maintain her attention. He was too young to understand it, why he felt he needed to be the center of her universe.
Even when it became too much, when he would get obnoxious and feisty, she'd still include him in their games and adventures. No matter who wanted to join them, she'd allow it. Even if it was the kids who sometimes drove him insane.
The way she laughed and smiled at Caleb told him that she was present and listening. It wasn’t an act, she was interested in his conversations, keeping her entertained and intrigued. Their hands swung between them, simply playing, allowing villagers to create a fantasy.
When they stopped at a local dessert stand, purchasing a few cream puffs, Caleb bought one for each of them.
And so that’s how they walked through town, munching on a sweet treat, conversing as a team. Rafayel had no sensation of being left out, matter of fact he felt too included.
The princess had powder on the corner of her mouth, oblivious as she pointed out colorful lantern shops.
Rafayel knew better than to reach and swipe the sugar off her face. He watched Caleb do it, his amethyst eyes holding affection. To his surprise once more, Rafayel felt no need to harm the human. It comforted him that he wasn’t the only one looking out for their princess.
Caleb then stood in front of the Captain, thumb reaching up to touch Rafayel. He dodged the attack just in time, taking a few rapid steps back, resulting in a gentle laugh from the princess.
”Raf, there’s some on your face, too,” she explained.
The Lemurian used the back of his gloved hand to wipe across his mouth. Traces of the sweet confection appeared there, revealing the two weren’t executing an orchestrated prank.
“I would have been more than happy to do that for you. I need my Captain to keep up appearances.”
Caleb’s remark made the Captain walk ahead, eager to get out of his current predicament.
The princess watched the sway of his hips, long legs allowing him to cover much ground. He was back in his usual attire, dark leather encasing his body, hugging him in a way that accentuated his waist.
When the seamstress had originally designed his outfit, she had called it Abysswalker, explaining that it made him appear as if he had trekked a millennia alone through darkness. He appeared mysterious, not interested in affairs that took place in the light. He was a shadow.
He wore it early on in his life, having multiple sets made, then eventually altered as he grew.
It was truly poetic, and the princess appreciated such artistic expression. Truly.
But she was slowly becoming convinced the seamstress might have admired the model more than the fabric.
Otherwise why would she have fashioned it to attract every interested party within the vicinity.
“He may not show it, but all his attention is solely on us.” Caleb grabbed her hand again. He had just mentioned appearances needed to be kept up, after all. “Otherwise he would have left us behind a long time ago.”
Rafayel froze, head tilting to look over his shoulder. She thought he was about to remark something sarcastic.
He twisted on his heel, crisp steps leading him to Caleb to grab his shoulder.
Rafayel pushed Caleb to the side just in time for his dagger to slice through an arrow. The flint and wood fell to the ground at the prince’s feet.
Violet eyes met Caleb’s, a smug smirk on the Captain’s lips. He was ready to boast, flaunt his skill and hold it over Caleb’s head that he had saved him. That was quite typical of the Lemurian.
Except, Caleb’s matching smirk halted his tease.
Gravity held an arrow suspended in air. Its target - Rafayel’s upper back.
Rafayel heard it fall at his heels.
Caleb reacted first, yanking the princess by her forearm to stand between the two.
They both knew she was just as capable of protecting herself as they were protecting her. It was difficult however to defend oneself when their glaive was stored safely at the barracks back home.
They had decided a princess walking with a glaive in her hand wouldn’t present the best image.
A few figures walked out from the neighboring shops, covered in cloaks that hid their true appearances. Bumps appeared from under hoods, scales glimmered in the sun, and some nails could easily be mistaken as claws.
They weren’t human.
“Even with gravity, I can’t get a hold on them all.” Caleb hissed low enough only the princess and Rafayel could here. “Raf, thoughts?”
Rafayel surveyed the area behind the prince, his back to the man, the princess between their spines. “I have more than enough on my end. I have a feeling this isn’t it, either.”
The princess reached down, tearing the skirts of her dress, exposing heeled boots. Having to wear a dress again was bad enough, there was no way she would be in fragile slippers once more.
“Oh shit.”
Caleb’s exhale had the princess straightening, the fabric from her dress blowing out of her hand to curl high in the wind. Bystanders had already fled, which left the few who wished to harm the trio.
“Oh shit?” Rafayel couldn’t look behind himself, watching a few more opponents emerge. “What’s oh shit?”
“You remember our winged ally? Alastor?”
“Alastor?” The princess repeated, confused why they would be upset. That fairy had been by her side for many years, defending her from even the smallest of harms. “Isn’t that good?”
“He’s the last male we would want to see.” Rafayel was now the one sighing, twirling the hilt of his blade restlessly.
“Why?” She asked. Caleb’s fingers flexed, distortion of the air around his fingertips divulging the use of gravity. He answered her, embarrassed.
“We might have promised him that he would have the honor of killing you.”
The princess wasn’t angry. She didn’t have to pry to know that this promise was made long before the evolution of their relationships.
She only had one thing to say.
“You idiots.”
Notes:
So uh, what's the dynamic here, someone tell me.
Chapter 7: Our Girl
Summary:
“Careful,” Caleb folded his arms, leaning to rest his weight on his left side. It placed him a little closer to Rafayel. He decided to play, interpreting Rafayel’s acknowledgement as an invitation. “Words like guilt often lead to words like punishment.”
Caleb’s voice was pure sin, all gravel and smooth honey.
Rafayel whistled long and low, impressed. He too transferred his weight to one side - his right. “And what did you have in mind?”
Notes:
This is my longest chapter...good luck. So I have an amazing soulmate, Z, they listen to the rambles despite not playing LADs. They have been listening to me rant about the trio's dynamic for a hot min. They also are the devil on my shoulder...and well they kicked the angel off a while ago. Partially, this is their fault.
TW: Violence, blood, self defense, minor character death, mentions of bodily augmentation, anxiety.
We are entering some serious character development territory.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Rafayel thought sending a dragon shifter was overkill.
In another world, it must have looked as if a reptile had a small, flopping fish caged by bent claws.
His legs shook as his hands were locked within the hands of the female before him. She was pushing, aiming to have him fall to his knees. The wings behind her back curled around them, heavy. Past the balance point of her body, their added weight aided in pushing him down.
One knee touched the ground beneath him, and he groaned, tapping into whatever was left in his reserves. His body felt like a hollow shell. The druid, banshee, and fairy he had defeated earlier nearly took everything he had to begin with.
His opponent was flung back suddenly, a vile shriek leaving her throat as she struggled to get back up. Slitted pupils expressed fury as they stared at the merman. Her wings appeared glued to the ground, preventing her shoulders from rising.
“Figured you could use some help.” Caleb curled his fingers around Rafayel’s upper arm, lifting him so they stood side by side. “I believe this puts me in the lead.”
“Hardly.” Rafayel summoned his dagger in a burst of pink flame. He stood over the dragon, her fangs bared in defense. The Lemurian dropped, leaning over her on his left knee, his hand gripping the ground by her head. He pressed his blade to her throat.
Her immediate reaction was to rumble deep in her chest, eyes widening in fear. Rafayel waited, observing as yellow irises accepted her fate. That rumble didn’t stop, however, as if calling for something, or someone, attempting to send a last message. The moment he slit her throat, that rumble would evolve into a concluding screech.
“Let her go.” Rafayel stood, swiping his hands together to dispel the dust on his palm. “She has a mate to return to.” His gaze drifted to the female beneath him “Isn’t that right?”
She nodded, retreating the instant Caleb released her.
“Assuming her mate isn’t here, this wasn’t by choice.” Caleb sighed, removing his torn coat. His arm bled, effectively turning his white tunic red around his elbow, down his forearm, then to his wrist. He threw the discarded article of clothing to the ground, watching as Rafayel burned it to ash with a snap of his fingers.
They returned to their previous formation, back pressed to back, this time with the absence of the princess. “Can’t have a warlock or any fairy capable of the magical arts obtaining your blood.”
“I knew your fire would come in handy at some point.” Caleb retorted. “I have a whole load of old clothes back in my closet -”
“Shut up.” Rafayel interrupted with no real offense. “Where’s our princess?”
Caleb chuckled, eyes darting around to take in the mythical creatures surrounding them. “Holding her own, I can tell you that. She doesn’t need us.”
“That’s our girl.”
Rafayel felt the low hum of agreement from his human counterpart through his back. He smiled to himself, lifting his dagger just in time to parry an attack from a fae. As he returned an attack of his own, slashing horizontally, he groaned when skin melted into water instantly.
A water fae, just great.
“The first one to our princess gets a kiss . . .” Caleb bartered. “On the cheek.”
As the fae reformed its physical shape, Rafayel flipped his dagger, getting into position.
“You have yourself a deal, your Highness.”
Alastor’s physical advances were nothing compared to the look of vengeance within his green eyes.
Hatred supported the burdensome gaze, strong enough to almost make the princess falter. Almost.
Hatred was also his weakness, infecting his attacks, managing to turn them sloppy.
The fairy was a work of art, his green wings, although fringed and damaged, radiated with an energy that flowed through the exoskeleton and membrane. Their shape reminded the princess of a dragonfly, large and thin. His forewings extended past the top of his head, his hindwings nearly touched the ground, ending at his lower calves.
How they had been cut deemed them useless. She would probably hate humans, too.
“Alastor,” she breathed, pushing him back with the pole of her glaive.
Conveniently, the shifter Caleb defeated first donated his glaive when his body dissipated. She hadn’t hesitated, grabbing it just as Alastor had locked his sights on her.
“Princess,” he responded, his grueling snarl tainting his flawless face. “I’ve waited for this for years. What your father did -”
“I’m not my father!” She refused to allow him to state such things, harnessing that anger to aim for his chest, lifting her glaive to swipe diagonally. Had she just not reminded herself hatred made forms sloppy? Anger did the same.
Alastor raised his battle axe, brushing her weapon to the side. She managed to keep her grip strong around the pole, but felt the ring of metal vibrate up her arms. It hurt.
“You may not be him,” the fairy took a step forward, forcing her back. “But you’re next in line, destined to continue his beliefs.” The handle of his axe, made of a tree trunk, creaked beneath his grip. “It makes sense I end it here. Understand me, Princess.”
She shook her head, gaze pleading with the forest fairy in front of her. When he struck again, she sidestepped just in time, the blade of his axe skimming her arm. It tore off her sleeve, and barely touched her skin. It was enough to leave the skin agitated.
“I won’t,” her resolve sounded weak due to materializing at the end of a breath. Alastor tried knocking her glaive from her hand, but failed once more.
“When in battle, anyone says anything to keep their life.” With a grunt his blade greeted her skin again, this time, the sensitive skin of her calf. It earned him a cry out, less of pain, and more in surprise. “You wouldn’t know that, your Highness.” He snarled. “Pampered your entire life. Even if you truly wished to change our world, who would follow you? Lay down their life for you?”
She needed to create space between them, taking several steps back. Rafayel and Caleb both had mentioned her greatest weakness was her back. She never thought of it, too focused on the weight of her weapon, on her enemies before her.
The only two she had ever fought were the Captain and the prince. They never had the intention of harming her. She knew they held their attacks, softened their blows before they landed.
Alastor would kill her if she gave him even the smallest opening.
Blood pumped rapidly through her, breaths shallow as she felt the pounding in her chest. Fingers trembled, but she refused to let that show. She was useless if she at the least couldn’t defend herself.
And what? Wait for Rafayel and Caleb to appear?
Her resolve shone through in her stance, digging her boots into the ground. No matter what she told the fairy, even if she disclosed she struggled just as much, if not more, behind the closed doors of her father’s castle, he wouldn’t believe her. The majority wouldn’t.
Is that what she wanted, though? To embark on this journey to take on the past sins of her father, destroy every corrupted pillar, then rebuild society itself?
If she had Rafayel and Caleb at her side, nothing felt impossible.
It was tangible, the shift in her confidence.
Words, they did nothing against the princess. Alastor had been on the battlefield for far too long to know when verbal taunts worked and when they didn’t. His princess required more concrete methods.
“Do you have it, your Highness?” Although he was her enemy, the smile he created had the means to comfort. “To take what you need to win this fight? Even if that means a life?”
The fight he was referencing wasn’t just between the two of them. It was her against her future, against whatever enemies she made.
Alastor had lost his mate centuries ago. Nothing tragic, they had expected her ending many years before it came to be. She was a mortal, after all. It was long before the time of strife between humans and mythical beings.
Forest fae weren’t limited to mating once, nor to just one person at a time. But he never took another. Humans, and their vast array of flaws, made them unique.
Which was why he could never trust the princess, daughter to a man drunk off his own power and control. No matter what the princess voiced, he had no understanding of her flaws.
With a triumphant shout, the woman attacked with the backing of her newfound courage. She swiped, thrusted, and swung. Alastor had no time to parry, stumbling till he landed on his rear, his axe falling, then sliding to land near the princess’s boots.
He held his hand up, manipulating the constitution of his axe. It expanded into multiple, connected sticks, resembling a web. Wrapping around the princess’s legs, it held her immobile, her arms circling to try and maintain her balance.
Killing the princess meant a hasty execution when he would kneel before his King. It was a small price to pay.
Flames engulfed the princess’s legs, blooming into a palette with the colors of the setting sun.
Alastor turned his head, catching a glimpse of the Captain running towards them. The princess’s betrothed was a few feet behind, occasionally looking behind him. There was no one, they had vanquished them all.
The forest fairy heard the whoosh of air, the telling sound of a large blade moving. He clasped his hands in time to catch the pole, merely a few seconds too late. The tip of the princess’s blade pierced his chest. It wasn’t a fatal wound, but it was enough to draw blood.
She stood over him, eyes wide and wild. Adrenaline drove her decisions, logic temporarily exiled.
Again, as a weathered Knight, Alastor saw right through it.
The princess transferred weight forward, sinking the blade an inch further into the fairy’s chest cavity.
The crunch of the bone awakened her, the glaze of her frenzy washing away from her gaze. She saw clearly, and hesitated.
That’s when Alastor released his grip, allowing the blade to sink in.
The princess screamed, unable to catch herself in time. Her weight plunged the blade through muscle till it stuck in the ground beneath the fairy.
He wanted to sully those pure hands, paint them crimson till she couldn’t stand herself. It was wicked, even a little cowardly.
A sense of accomplishment soothed the ache in his chest. His mouth twitched into a smirk.
It was gone when the princess tried clutch at his chest, tears streaming down ruddy cheeks. The Captain grabbed her from behind, yelling something incoherent. She fought against him, jerking violently and shouting in return.
“You can’t save him!” Rafayel repeated, the sounds muffled in Alastor’s ringing ears.
The princess nearly got both feet off the ground with her next retaliation. Rafayel bent back to adapt to the abrupt change in balance, righting himself when she landed. She would tire soon, he could only hope.
Someone who didn’t care wouldn’t go through such lengths. Alastor had expected an enraged princess to bid him farewell into the afterlife. She didn’t seem to think once about herself, her presentation, or sense of preservation. The poor woman thought she had a chance of saving him, a mythical creature.
He lifted his hand, gesturing for the princess to come closer. She broke free of the Captain, rushing to her knees and grasping him with both her palms.
What a fool, it wouldn’t have taken much to slip a dagger from his sleeve and end her, but he didn’t. Instead, he smiled. He felt his bloody lips stain his teeth.
“You have it in you, your Highness.” He rasped, then coughed, freeing his hand to cover his mouth. “I underestimated you.”
She was about to respond but he shook his head. “I’ve never disobeyed you. Let me do it this once by refusing your words, please.”
Her mouth shut immediately. She descended till her bottom touched her heels, resting fully in a kneel. And there she sat, patient, an existence to accompany the lonely fairy into his final rest. She didn’t make a single sound or move until he took his last breath.
Skin turned to bark, bones turned to wood, and flowers blossomed. When nothing of the fairy remained, it scattered into dust, carrying whatever was left into the wind towards the nearest thicket of trees.
The princess rose, and pulled the glaive from the ground.
She staggered back, hands outstretched to remain away from her body. His blood was a phantom on her skin, plunging her deeper into the stickiness of it. She felt as if it was dripping over her entire being, sinking her into a pool of red, coagulating quicksand.
Rafayel caught her, one arm securing around her middle. The other allowed his hand to enclose around her right wrist.
“Let go of the weapon, Princess.” He had remembered his first encounter with death, he knew the feeling all too well. “Let it go.”
The metal rang out as it landed, echoing in the now silent street. Caleb stood on guard a little to the side, his back turned to the princess and Rafayel, eyes checking alleyways and storefronts.
As much as he wanted to console the princess, he knew he served a better purpose as the shield.
He never turned around. The two emerged in his periphery with Rafayel supporting the princess with a hand at her elbow.
Caleb analyzed the princess first, then Rafayel.
When he found no significant physical injury, he spoke.
“Let’s go home.”
They settled in Rafayel’s room.
Through stolen glances, Rafayel confirmed he was able to step away briefly. The dirt, blood, and scratches made it hard for him to move, aware of every action he took. He needed it all off.
He slipped into his bathroom without a word.
The princess stood with Caleb in the center of the bedroom.
Left alone with Caleb, she wasn’t sure what to say, if to say anything at all.
She was naive to think the chaos of their world could be solved with no bloodshed. She was naive to think she could make everyone happy. And worst of all, she was naive to think she wouldn’t have to eventually make a choice.
“Hey,” Caleb whispered, slowly approaching the princess from behind. He stood close enough she could feel the heat of his presence, but he did not touch her. “Come back to us.”
She felt . . . exposed. No fortress or foundation. Nothing contained her thoughts, and nothing protected them.
She had felt something similar when Rafayel was initially sent away. Those years without him changed the very groundwork of her being.
It was happening again.
Arms wrapped around her middle, the scent of apples surrounding her. That richness she could never put her finger on, that reminded her of something thick and smooth, it was amber. He was sweet and bold. Spicy and calm.
She wanted to bury her face into it, inhale again and again.
Unlike Rafayel, Caleb had stood by her side during those pivotal movements. Back then, Rafayel had been the cause, Caleb had witnessed the effect. He knew what to look for, and what to do.
Caleb’s forehead pressed to the base of her neck. He was tall, scary to some, secure to others. That sensation of being towered over, made her want to turn around and crawl into him.
He never said anything, just hugged her, matching his breathing to hers. Both of their clothes were in tatters, wounds littered their bodies, superficial in some areas. None of it mattered. Pain sometimes couldn’t be compared to what festered inside.
Gently, her hands rose to rest over Caleb’s forearms. They were stacked across her stomach, keeping her sheltered.
When fingers curled around his muscles, he expected her to pry herself out of his hold. He wouldn’t be shocked if her first thought was what would Rafayel think upon seeing them in such an intimate embrace. Personally, Caleb could care less about the consequences. The princess was fighting inside, torn open, using everything she had to come out victorious.
Much to his surprise, her fingers dug in through the fabric of his sleeves to press him closer.
He supported her weight, their bodies swaying slightly to find their balance. He spread his legs marginally, accommodating. He wouldn’t let her fall, or even feel the sensation of losing balance. He had her, completely.
Caleb didn’t move when he heard the door open. He maintained his position when he heard Rafayel take a few steps and drop a towel atop the table. His nose trailed up the princess’s spine as he raised his head and tilted to peek over her shoulder.
In the moonlight, Rafayel’s eyes seemed to adopt a darker hue. Not enough light reflected through his irises to create that soft lilac. Instead, Caleb likened them to a purple pansy.
At first glance they appeared perilous, even a little troubled. As the Lemurian got closer, Caleb realized what he had perceived as a threat was in reality sentiment.
Rafayel came to stop in front of the princess, guiding her chin up by elegant fingers on her jaw, so his forehead could rest against hers. His eyes searched hers, reassuring her such turmoil would pass.
With one more step, Caleb felt Rafayel’s stomach press to his forearms. It was intentional, and that alone, was jarring. Although smaller in physical build, Rafayel’s presence was light, a soft breeze on any given day, any time of year. He could bend and swirl, uplift and cause chaos. It was fresh and clean.
Caleb straightened as Rafayel’s fingers slid over his shoulder, the contact void of romantic expression. The human had been alone for so long, only relying on himself to protect those he needed to, it didn’t matter who provided encouragement. He didn't pull his shoulder away, he found himself leaning towards the warmth.
“I have her.” Rafayel confirmed, narrowing his eyes as he slid his fingers down Caleb’s arm. When his thumb touched the hardened red fabric, lines formed at the top of his nose to accompany a frown. “This needs to be tended to.”
This was the humorless side the princess once told him about. Caleb wasn’t sure how to respond, usually ready to fire back some retort or tease. He looked down at his arm, intrigued as Rafayel still held the fabric.
The princess’s hand came to join Rafayel’s, her index finger tracing the imperfect stain of red. Her head was turned, chin touching her own shoulder to look down at his arm.
Caleb took the opportunity. Before he knew what he was doing, his lips were on her temple, eyes closing as he remained there. The strands of her hair tickled the tip of his nose, the subtle pulse of hers thrummed against his mouth. Her scent, enticing, expanded within his lungs.
When he pulled away, he did so with his entire body. Rafayel was observing intently, but still bore no hostility.
Silently, they communicated. Caleb turned to return to his own room just as Rafayel lowered to slide his arm behind the princess’s knees.
The princess yelped as Rafayel lifted her, one arm beneath both of the backs of her knees, the other supporting her back. Her arms circled around his neck. She had read that this was referred to as bridal style.
“What are you doing?” She looked up at him.
“Cheering you up,” his lips pressed to her temple, opposite of where Caleb had kissed. “Let me show you my world.”
She wasn’t entirely sure what he had meant by those words, simply hanging on as he carried her out onto the castle grounds. As Rafayel knew the guards’ routes, he was aware which path to take, and which to avoid.
It wasn’t long before he had brought them in front of the lake the merman frequented.
What many didn’t realize, was it was no ordinary lake. It was huge. Stretched as far as the eye could see, mountains curved around the edge furthest away. It wasn’t shallow either, home to a few small islands, plots of land strong enough to hold large trees. The water itself was clear, although dark due to the time of night.
Rafayel stood where water lapped at the tips of his boots when he put the princess down. Immediately, he unlaced the top of his white shirt, reaching behind his head to pull it over and off of himself.
The moon did nothing but compliment his form, muscles carved from years of physical exertion.
He threw his shirt on top of her head, assaulting her with his scent.
“Stop gawking and put it on. Give me your dress when you’re done.”
She made quick work of her clothes when Rafayel turned his back to her. The hem of his shirt reached her upper thighs, the cuffs of his sleeves swallowing her wrists, covering half her palm.
Would he think her crazy if she requested to sleep within his shirts every night?
Rafayel burned her dress the instant it touched his fingers, not mentioning anything as he walked into the water. When it touched his knees, he turned, outstretching his hand.
“Come with me, cutie.”
All her trust was held within his hands, so she curled her fingers around his, striding through the water to stand next to him. It was cold, but not enough to make her skin crawl with the need to escape.
Then he was pulling her further out till her feet could no longer touch the floor. They swam a little ways in silence, until he guided her into a hug.
Her arms came over his shoulders to hang on, legs wrapping tightly around his torso. She could feel it - his powerful tail - undulating to hold them both above water.
“Want to play?” Rafayel whispered, his nose nuzzled against hers, nudging her head.
“I can’t breathe underwater, Raf.” She deadpanned.
“Sure you can.” He responded. “You just need to know a Lemurian who is willing to kiss you. And you have a very, very willing Lemurian right in front of you.”
Her cheeks puffed. “We kissed earlier,” she then arched her brow, and slowly began to lower herself, ready to submerge her head beneath the water.
He stopped her, placing a hand at the side of her neck. “Nuh uh, that one doesn’t count. They expire after two hours. That was an hour and fifty-nine minutes ago - oh? Would you look at that? Two hours ago. Time’s up, Princess.”
“You don’t even know what time it is!”
“Don’t need to, pucker up.”
He pushed out his lips, leaning forward to try and give her a small peck. It was adorable, reminding her of what they were like before. He was completely and utterly outlandish, dramatic, and charming. So how could she even begin to refuse his theatrics?
With a smack of their lips, they both began laughing softly. Rafayel kept his forehead pressed to hers. Every chance he could touch her he would take and sink his claws into.
Moderation was a concept he didn’t care in the slightest to understand.
“The count of three?”
“I don’t know how to!” She scrambled, holding onto him even tighter, climbing him to keep her head higher above the water as he started to descend. “Don’t you even dare, Raf.”
All he gave her was a smirk before he held her close, and pulled her underneath.
She could remember when they were young, kids who played and imagined in the courtyard. Rafayel would add water to dirt, turn it to mud, and get his hands dirty, creating different shades of color. While dirt was dusty and easy to comb through, mud slowed movement, was sticky and compact, clinging to whatever surface it could find.
Breathing underwater felt the same.
Magic had no rhyme or reason, so she would never question how her human lungs functioned beneath the surface. Whatever Rafayel was capable of, not only altered her ability to breathe, but her vision was crystal clear, and his voice carried through the water as if they were still on land.
“Princess,” he grabbed her attention, cupping her cheeks to guide her focus to him. “Don’t think about it.”
Swallowing her rebuttal, she listened, looking around to distract herself. They weren’t deep enough where the beauty embedded within the sand couldn’t be seen. There was enough light from the overhead moon to illuminate the flora just a few feet beneath her feet. Fish seemed to gravitate to them, swimming in schools that glittered between the diving rays of light.
This was Rafayel’s world, where he came from. There was a possibility this was where he wanted to return to.
Finally, he released her, and she floated back a little, consuming his form before her.
What she had seen all those years ago must have been a tail not fully developed. The tones of his tail were bold, confident to garner the attention of any and all who looked. The end of his tail branched out into an exquisite fin, blue at the base, then purple at the tip, reminiscent of when the sunset kissed the sea.
Near the base of that large fin, and near his waist, were pairs of narrow, smaller fins that appeared thin as petals.
His tail flicked restlessly as if the owner wasn’t sure what to do with the attention. Little tornadoes of water formed at the tips of his translucent fins with each flick.
And by the Gods, his tail was long.
“Will you . . . say something?”
He could also blush beneath the water. Nothing changed there. Blue eyes looked everywhere but her. He was truly such an enigma, one minute self-assured and flirtatious, the next bashful and childish.
“I’m not sure there’s enough words to describe how beautiful you are.”
That kiss must have had the ability to make her overly sappy, as well.
She was expecting a tease, maybe even an affectionate jab. Instead, he had managed to turn a more dangerous shade of red.
There were no more words she could say. Around him, color appeared dull. The vibrant characteristics of this form stole all her attention.
Mythical creatures weren’t just existences, personalities who lived different stories. They made up the world, sustaining and creating.
She found herself smiling, elated that her views were her own, that she had no polluted thoughts leading her to want to erase such beings.
“Your eyes are bright, and you remind me of a proud little crab when you smile.” Rafayel nodded to himself. “When you’re angry, you’re like a prickly sea urchin.”
“Was that last part really needed?”
“Yup, it was. Why would I ever give you anything less than everything?”
They remained suspended, weightless within the water, eyes holding one another in place. While originally a tease, his words held hidden connotations. The princess’s smile softened into one simply of acknowledgement.
The pair explored the depth of the lake. Lemurians with their tails meant they swam much faster than a creature with legs. Initially, Rafayel struggled to find a suitable pace. The princess wasn’t too keen on holding hands, instead swimming a little only to stop and take in the various plants housed within smooth rock.
She thought she was subtle, but Rafayel knew exactly what she was thinking. She feared if they locked fingers, her tugging on him to stop every few feet might nag on him. So, she’d be less inclined to explore at her leisure.
“Cutie,” he drifted in her direction and stayed next to her. His fingers slipped through hers. “Take your time.”
Eventually, she was dictating him, stopping here and there, dragging him down to chase and poke fish. When she couldn’t catch up to them, she climbed onto Rafayel’s back, and he propelled them through the water.
Then, he demonstrated just how fast he could go.
When she giggled, and pointed over his shoulder, asking questions about bioluminescent plants, he knew she was back to herself.
He rolled, grabbing her hips to hold her close as he swam them back to the surface.
The princess gasped for air reflexively, laughing to herself when she realized she didn’t need to. Rafayel held her above him, so she looked down, smoothing his wet hair down his scalp till it remained pushed back.
He looked at her as if she made the waves move, as if she brought the tide in, then called it forth once more the day after. She shivered, bewitched by a gaze reinforced with brilliant moonlight.
She kissed him.
His hands were large, thumbs hooked on the front of her waist, fingers splayed on her lower back.
Their mouths, wet from water, slid together, loud and messy. Angles changed, eager to pull one another closer.
The princess had already identified her favorite part of kissing Rafayel. He wasn’t quiet. He would moan and groan as if her kiss gave him life itself. His sighs, loud breaths, and seductive hums made her mind spin - made her crave even more of him.
In the middle of the lake, under the moonlit clear sky, it was all she could hear.
“Thank you,” she said, lips still pressed to his. It slurred her inflection, but he swallowed every syllable, regardless.
“You’re welcome,” he returned, which was all that needed to be spoken. She’d come to him when she was ready to talk, but only when she wanted to.
“As much as I want this perfect mouth on me all night, the prince is waiting.” Rafayel added.
“I know,” her kisses found his neck, placing a few marks on his collarbone. “Let’s get back to him.”
Rafayel smiled. “Race you to the shore?”
The princess had recently begun to compare herself to that of a hormonal teenager.
Rafayel sat across from her at his study desk, quill in hand as he wrote the schedule for the next week. His fingernails, still painted a dark hue, were especially prominent against the white feather.
Those fingers of his had curled within her a week prior.
And those were the kinds of thoughts that had been plaguing her mind every single time she’d laid eyes on him. Hence, feeling like a hormonal teenager.
“You requested a group of what? Four or five Knights?” Rafayel confirmed, basically the epitome of business. He hadn’t even looked up at her when she entered, sides of his hands stained with ink from all his scribbles.
She understood he was occupied, and would never get in the way of his duties. Matter of fact, she was delighted to see that he had fallen back into his role seamlessly.
“I was hoping you could choose a few from the batch you trust the most.” She explained. “And, increase patrol in the village.”
“Reasonable request,” he hummed and glanced in her direction.
That was it?
How was he so calm? She felt if given the chance she’d be unable to let him go. They were finally alone, just the two of them.
Fast or slow, rough or gentle, she’d never turn down what he was willing to give.
She searched his eyes, visually tracing over his nose, along his cheekbones, then down to plush lips. His adam’s apple bobbed, altering the tense lines of the muscles within his neck. He always stood taller under her scrutiny, practically preening, adjusting the hem of his shirt or running a hand through his hair.
The burn of passion simmered, cordial and constant in her belly. It rose, caught somewhere between her sternum and throat. It was a balm that soothed and stuck, yet still faded over time. When it receded, that burn would return and transform into a boil, creating an ache that conquered all rationale.
A part of her wanted to hold him to her, and play with the length of his hair, exploring the silky strands. She’d whisper sweet nothings, transparent with her love.
The other part was more turbulent and unrefined - a tangible manifestation of devotion. She wanted to share with him something she’d never entrusted with another. It wasn’t the physical act, no. Both had no lack of potential suitors.
Neither knew what faces they’d make, what words would be said, or how they’d sound when they were truly liberated of all restraint. Even so, she knew their dynamic made it so each reaction fueled another. It would be exciting, redeeming, and intense. Powerful above all else.
She’d need days, if not weeks, to simply understand his desire at its basic level.
“Princess,” Rafayel captured her attention.
Eyes focused, breath hitching as she realized she had stood there in thought. She cleared her throat, reaching for her collarbone to adjust the top of her dress. Her index and middle fingers rubbed over the skin there.
She’d been caught.
“You can’t keep doing that, Princess . . . Looking at me that way.” Rafayel sighed, turning to take a seat back at his desk. He leaned back, legs crossing as hands found the curves of his armrests.
The last thing she wanted was for him to believe she was consumed solely by lust. She took a deep breath in. She was safe, Rafayel knew better.
“One evening, down the road . . .” The Lemurian began. What he was about to say was not suitable to be said between a Knight and princess, she could tell by the way he lowered his voice. “I want you to tell me exactly what goes on in that mind of yours. Every depraved thing you are curious about, every filthy thing you want to try.”
Her laugh was genuine. “What? Over dinner? Raf, that’s ridiculous.”
He leaned forward so his elbows came to his desk, fingers intertwining to create a bridge for his chin. She still stood at the side of his desk, fingers holding her steady against the wood. He possessed her alone with his stare - blue creeping over violet.
“No, in my bed.” He didn’t waver. “Naked, on your back, with the tips of my fingers mapping your body.”
He was conceptualizing it, the fantasy behind his eyes instigating the blue of his irises to sharpen and gleam. His exhale was slow and heavy. Unlike her, he hadn't felt a release at his lover’s hands. He was pent up, on edge.
Rafayel revelled in it.
The princess was in love with someone comfortable in his sexuality, explorative of what made him feel good, made him feel confident and sensual.
Nothing could be more attractive.
It urged her to be wild and unabashed. A foreign concept she was eager to discover.
“You’d have to earn it,” she whispered. “I might be willing to reveal a few, but not all.”
“I’m offended,” he smirked. “As if I wouldn’t reward you for your efforts. You’ve experienced what I’m capable of with a few fingers, imagine what I could do with my tongue.”
She already had.
“I’d love to tease you between your legs while you talk, feel exactly which fantasies make you more aroused over others.” His lips twitched into his signature smirk, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
Still, he remained seated, she hadn't moved, either. Skin itched to touch, mouths desired to claim one another. They both craved the tension, basked in the need to make the other surrender.
“There might be a few I’m not ready to reveal yet, no matter how convincing you think you might be.” The princess challenged.
“Well, color me impressed.” He was confident, maintaining his position. His voice had her ensnared completely. “Whatever you may think is too much to handle, you clearly underestimate me.”
“How are you so sure?” She was genuinely curious.
Her eyes drifted to the space behind him, where an easel held a canvas, a stool situated in front. She could easily picture him sitting there, gentle hands guiding a thick brush over goose fleshed hemp. Behind the easel was a large window overlooking the lake beside the castle.
Rafayel had returned to his craft once he had deemed his space safe and secure.
When he had first introduced her to his hobby many years ago, he’d taught her how to paint. Or rather, he simply held her hand and guided her strokes. It was when they were vaguely aware of their changing dynamic, too young to think about the consequences. Now, she would consider it innocent flirting. He hadn't needed to stand so close behind her, and she hadn't needed to lean back against him.
In this particular moment however, she didn’t want him to guide. The brush she held wouldn’t glide over canvas, it’d find skin, tracing lines over defined muscles. Take away his sight, and he’d writhe, she was certain.
“I think you like to tease, Princess.” Rafayel broke her thoughts for the second time that afternoon. His quill had returned to his hand, eyes following the movement of the writing tool. He twirled it between thumb and forefinger, his other hand sensing the feather against his palm. “It wouldn’t be hard for me to find skin-safe paints, either.”
Her intake of breath had seemed quiet in her head, but it was loud enough to tug the left side of Rafayel’s mouth. How was he so sure? Their thoughts were very similar, indeed. He kept his eyes on the feather, sly.
“I’ll dispatch a new group of Knights this evening.” Rafayel blinked away, standing to place his hands flat on his desk. He looked at his paperwork, ignoring the pull. After shuffling a few dry pieces of parchment, he folded and sealed the one he was looking for. “Anything else, Princess?”
His eyes were wide, seemingly innocent, back to their natural violet. Oh, he was good.
The temptation to cave, voice her every motive while he worked her over his desk, made the skin of her fingertips white as she pressed down into the wood. His bedroom was to her left, door ajar. His entire study was heavy with his scent, warm with his presence.
She wanted to take.
And take.
And take.
She wouldn’t let him rest.
Judging by how he looked at her, hand outstretched with his summons between two fingers, he knew exactly what was on her mind.
“I originally came to remind you that Caleb has requested your attendance.” She was prim and proper.
“Ah, that’s right.” He confirmed, focused on the princess as she finally received his summons. “Him and I have much to discuss.”
He didn’t elaborate further, and the princess didn’t expect him to. As of late there had been more attempts on both the Captain’s, and the prince’s life. It had become a part of their routine if anything. The attacks were predictable, almost a bore. What she couldn’t understand was why her father kept sending more assassins knowing they wouldn’t be a match for the two.
Caleb and Rafayel were unstoppable when a unified force.
The study suddenly felt void of oxygen. Her thumb rubbed over the wax of his seal in an attempt to ground her thoughts.
Where else might they be a unified pair?
She spun around before those thoughts could progress into anything further. Never, she could never think that way.
Rafayel was under the impression he knew her thoughts - under the impression he knew her like the back of his hand. But he would never take that possibility into account.
“You’re forgetting something, my lady.”
The princess turned quickly, her strides fast as he caught her by the back of her neck. He didn’t budge when her momentum pushed her body into him. Instead he used the sway of her body to seize her hip and slide that hand to her lower back.
Her hands came to grip his upper arms.
He kissed her once, twice, then one last time. Lips lingered, noses brushed.
“I’ll see you at dinner tonight,” he promised.
Her fingers trailed down his upper arms, cupped his elbows, then tickled his forearms till their fingertips met and parted. It was sluggish and intimate, quite the contrary to the thoughts ravaging through her consciousness.
“See you tonight.”
“That’s not fair!”
The princess looked up from her book at Rafayel’s protest.
“We never made any rules.”
Rafayel huffed at Caleb’s remark, sinking just enough below the water to cover his nose and mouth. Bubbles erupted as he blew air, most likely continuing his tantrum below the surface.
Truth be told, the princess couldn’t begin to try and describe the game they were playing. Behind the wall of her book, all she had heard thus far was splashing, and yelling, then even more splashing. There was absolutely no logic to their game, at least, as far as the princess could tell.
But then again, she was discovering the two had their own special way of communication. Which was good, both were in desperate need of one another.
The sun sprites had predicted it would be the hottest day of the year, and as usual, they were never wrong.
Which led to the princess enjoying her time on a lounge chair situated underneath a pavilion next to the pool. As it was Caleb’s personal accommodation, no one disturbed them.
Rafayel and Caleb hadn't hesitated, throwing off their shirts and trousers, jumping in without a single care in the world.
Then began the games. It started off simple with a game of chase, then a competition to see who could hold their breath longer.
Caleb, despite his intelligence, never registered why Rafayel won each time.
Their games were somewhat rough, hands would push, and heads would be pressed beneath the water. Their shoves weren’t violent enough to hurt, luckily.
Throughout the past week that had been their goal, to compete and tease. Earlier that week she had witnessed them racing horses, teaching one another their unique styles of riding. Their movements were both fluid, techniques solid, but styles different. Rafayel moved more with the horse using the momentum of his hips, whereas Caleb had a foundation so strong, it was easier for him to release the reins at full speed.
Then had come the sparring. Caleb had requested a lesson from the Lemurian in close combat. The human was well versed in long range techniques, confident in the use of his gravity, or with a weapon he had recently introduced as a new invention - the gun. It turned out pirates enjoyed selling to the highest bidder, which both the princess and Rafayel had found out, was indeed, Caleb.
His ability to form connections and remain civil with people many would consider uncultured was astounding.
Fortune did him no justice when it came to his lessons, however. Choosing a sword, Caleb had rationalized the longer blade would keep Rafayel further away. He had found out that wasn’t the case when the merman had him pinned in barely under a minute.
When they had decided to try fire against gravity, Rafayel learned the hard way that allowing Caleb enough time to cover his opponent’s entire body with an unforeseen weight was detrimental. Between the two of them, it eventually came down to speed.
They were learning about one another. How they attacked, defended, and taunted. The more they understood, the more they evolved. Unable to best one another, training with each other increased in difficulty over time. Soon, they had begun to seek the other out, eager to push their boundaries.
As much as she loved the two, it was enjoyable to have them occupy each other. Having the ability to take serene strolls through the royal courtyard wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
That, and she took some delight in their eccentric ideas.
The morning she had caught them sparring, blindfolded, in their disheveled, loose tunics was quite the sight. Their bangs were swept across black fabric, and the long ends of the sashes wrapped around their eyes fell down their backs.
The princess couldn’t identify the exact reason behind the training exercise, but she frankly didn’t care.
She had sat and stared for a very long time, and didn’t feel a single ounce of shame. They were both handsome, so what a waste it would be if no one admired them. That’s what she was doing - a service.
Eventually, she had grown fidgety, her legs falling asleep from sitting in one position for so long. Her boot pushed through the thick sand that compiled at the edge of the training grounds. Like a rock falling into a stagnant pond, it upset the calmness around all three of them.
Rafayel cocked his head, placing a hand on Caleb’s chest to halt him. “Seems we aren’t alone.”
Caleb straightened, his head slanting as a knowing smirk formed on his lips. “Ah, Pip, enjoying yourself?”
Unbeknownst to the Lemurian and princess, Caleb’s flirtatious tone was involuntary.
Caught red-handed, the princess found her boot filtering through sand intriguing. She knew her face was the color of a rose, embarrassment stuck within her skin like the accompanying thorns.
“She’s quiet . . .” Rafayel jutted his chin in Caleb’s direction to address him, then returned his covered gaze back to the princess. “Someone is guilty as charged.”
What the princess had speculated came to fruition. The two, when on the same side, played off one another real well, maybe too well.
“Careful,” Caleb folded his arms, leaning to rest his weight on his left side. It placed him a little closer to Rafayel. He decided to play, interpreting Rafayel’s acknowledgement as an invitation. “Words like guilt often lead to words like punishment.”
Caleb’s voice was pure sin, all gravel and smooth honey.
Rafayel whistled long and low, impressed. He too transferred his weight to one side - his right. “And what did you have in mind?”
The princess didn’t move as Caleb approached. She didn’t stop him either when he trailed a lone finger up her throat, under her jaw, then her chin. “As for whether you’ll get more, well, that depends on how you behave.”
“Would you be good for him?” The princess nearly yelped, a squeak escaping past her tight lips when wet heat touched her ear. Rafayel stood to her side, nipping the curved shell of cartilage before taking a spot behind her. “Would you be good for the both of us, Princess?”
“How long would you last, Pip?” Caleb questioned, sounding innocent. His breath was warm against her lips, his scent rich with his sweat. She was burning up between the two, yet too shocked to move. “If Raf and I took turns, just who would you behave better for? Hmm?”
“Me, obviously.” Rafayel gripped her hips. “I tend to give more rewards.”
Their dynamic was delicious, she concluded. Competitive against one another unless they shared the same goal. They circled her as if prey, vying to see who might get the bigger bite. She reached back, gripping Rafayel by his thigh, squeezing.
He hissed when she dug her nails in. She just wanted to feel him. Both still blindfolded, they missed her smirk.
“Clearly, you two prefer when I misbehave.”
Caleb’s tongue wetted his bottom lip. “Of course we do, Princess. Means we aren’t the only two with ill intentions.”
Rafayel laughed behind her, his thumbs creating small circles on her sides. He brought the side of his head to hers, breathing in. Caleb’s thumb rubbed across her cheek, soothingly. His presence wasn’t foreign, she was used to him. Yet this made her heart stutter.
Caleb leaned in a little further, just enough to touch the tip of her nose with his. He whispered the following words, nice and slow. “We caught you spying this time, sweetheart. Once or twice might be an accident, but anything after that is clearly intentional.”
“Then, there just might be some consequences.” Rafayel finished Caleb’s thought.
Rambunctious boys they were, she mused to herself.
Caleb took half a step back, and pulled his blindfold down, allowing it to rest around his neck. It was hard for her not to push his bangs back with how fluffy and disoriented they were.
“Why so flushed, Pipsqueak?” Caleb pressed his lips to her forehead. He lingered, groaning. “We mean an extra hour of training for you.”
She must have turned a shade darker, because Caleb chuckled and leaned forward, opposite to Rafayel. He found her other ear. “Such a naughty girl, Princess, thinking we meant anything else.”
He left after a failed attempt at a wink. His other eye half-closed when executing the motion. She covered her mouth so she wouldn't giggle. It was their secret, Rafayel shouldn’t know.
When Rafayel heard the crunch of boots disappear, he made his move.
The backs of his fingers slid down the side of her neck. “Your heart is racing, Princess.”
It was an observation, not an accusation.
His mouth pressed to her ear, his whisper featherlight. “Told you not to underestimate me, cutie.”
He knew, of course he did.
She laughed when he blew a raspberry against her neck, holding her hostage when she flailed, attempting to get away. He did it again, biting down at the end. She jerked, sensitive.
“We might have to try this blindfold thing again.” His tongue soothed the sting with the flat of his tongue. “Hearing you alone makes me want to devour you.”
She wanted to know what that was like, to have certain senses amplified.
Fingers traveled up the side of her neck, over her cheek, then a hand was covering her eyes. She could hear it distinctly - her own heartbeat.
Mischievous, Rafayel hummed. “Imagine,” he kissed her neck again. “Not knowing who’s mouth is on you.”
The sound of his voice, so breathy, so dark, and so controlled, tickled her.
For someone inherently possessive, she found his suggestion surprising. “And that wouldn’t bother you?”
If he didn’t have the princess right where he wanted her, Rafayel would admit he wasn’t sure. Any other man and he’d object, would never even consider it.
“No,” he continued. “Because I know I will kiss you better, touch you better . . .” She felt him smile against her jaw. He didn’t need to finish that sentence and express what they were both thinking. “Besides, after I’m done with you, you won’t have the energy to even look in his direction.”
There he was, her confident Captain.
“And how do you know how Caleb kisses?” She couldn’t stop her ridiculous question in time.
“Because he would have kissed you years ago,” he drawled. “And you wouldn’t have come back to me.”
As she thought back on that, she was glad to have a book concealing her facial expressions.
Rafayel came back up to the top, his purple hair slicked back, lashes and chin dripping water. In his natural habitat, blue eyes landed on Caleb - the human awestruck.
Even the princess put her text down, sitting up to watch the scene before her unfold.
Scales shimmered in the sunlight, accentuating his neck and cheeks. With his shoulders and upper arms above the water, small scales could be found there, as well.
“What?” Rafayel tilted his head in an impish, cocky expression. “Never seen a merman before?”
In fact, Caleb had not.
Rafayel was pretty. That was it. That’s all Caleb could come up with. His mouth opened, then nothing escaped soft lips aside from unintelligent mumblings. Rafayel’s elegance was disarming.
He felt heat creep over his face from embarrassment.
“And you thought you stood a chance with the princess.” Rafayel poked. “Unless . . . I now float your boat? That would explain why you’re suddenly blushi-”
Then Caleb was tackling the merman. Droplets of water sprayed the princess, making her grab a nearby towel to wipe off her face and portion of her arm. Which all became futile when Rafayel slammed his tail down against the surface.
“I concede, I concede!”
Caleb was tapping Rafayel’s shoulder when they both emerged, the merman’s hands gripping the human’s waist, ready to pull him back under.
“I can’t breathe underwater, you bubble blower.”
The princess knew exactly where this was going when Rafayel winked.
“There’s a way to fix that.”
Caleb tilted his head, confused. The princess found his innocent action tugged something in her chest.
All Rafayel had to do was blow a kiss to relay his message.
“I don’t think so,” Caleb said. The expression he made, one of disbelief, urged Rafayel on.
“I’ve never kissed a man before.” Rafayel slowly, tauntingly leaned in. “But I could make an exception, if it means you receive a kiss from someone as pretty and great as me.”
The closer Rafayel got, the more Caleb leaned back. Their push and pull proceeded until Caleb was arched uncomfortably, fingers gripping Rafayel’s slick shoulders. When Rafayel was about to consider himself victorious, the human snickered.
“If that’s the face Pip has to see before she kisses you, I feel bad for her.”
And there went their moment of peace.
The two didn’t leave the water until the sun began to set and the air began to cool. Rafayel hopped up onto the ledge of the pool, the bottom half of his tail still immersed. He ruffled his hair with a towel, drying his shoulders next. Caleb sat next to him, doing the same.
Caleb wasn’t as discreet as he had originally thought. His eyes roamed over Rafayel’s scales. The merman didn’t blame him or find it odd, anyone experiencing something new couldn’t help but be interested. It was simply human nature.
“Don’t be so dramatic, just touch it.”
Caleb gaped. “There’s no way in hell the most dramatic being on this entire planet just called me dramatic.”
“I did, and I will again. Watch me.” Rafayel’s tail flicked. That was after he had extended a hand to close Caleb’s open mouth. “Dramatic, that’s what you are. I’ll even spell it out for you, your Highness.”
“Caleb.” The princess sighed, scooting to the edge of her lounge chair. “He’s trying in his own way to express his trust.”
Caleb truly looked at the merman, from his head, to the fins at the end of his tail. While Rafayel’s words were teasing, and his demeanor somewhat repulsive, the human saw the vulnerability deep within blue eyes. When Rafayel understood Caleb’s glance, the Lemurian deflated.
“I never show people . . . this form.” Caleb wasn’t sure Rafayel could hide when they were under the beaming sun. But he tried, curling into himself a little. “My scales can be harvested, my abilities exploited. I have to always hide this part of me - the most beautiful part of me. So allowing you to see it, to even touch it, lets me express how much I have faith in you.”
“I understand.” Caleb pressed his hands on the tile next to his thighs, and moved a little closer. His leg was near Rafayel’s tail, the flesh and scales a comfortable chill compared to Caleb’s body heat.
The princess for once didn’t exist. Blue eyes, just as hypnotizing as the clear waters of the ocean, held amethyst ones.
Rafayel took much pride in his native state. It was obvious in the way he held his chin high, the way his eyes would darken and entrap. No one would be immune to this side of the Lemurian.
“You-” Rafayel stammered, his cheeks flushing an honest rouge.
Caleb’s palm was pressed tightly against Rafayel’s chest, resting over the steady beat of his heart. A small bunch of scales were amassed there. While his palm remained planted against the other male’s chest, his fingers spread to glide across the ripple of sapphire and lavender.
The human was momentarily repulsed by mortals. He couldn't imagine plucking such delicate, sensitive things from skin.
Caleb's eyes pivoted from the expanse of Rafayel’s chest and up to a glowing gaze. “Thank you,” he said, his voice carrying a tone full of emotion.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“Oh, I’m definitely making it weird.” Caleb got in close, just as Rafayel did to him earlier. His shoulder pressed against Rafayel's. “And look, it just got even weirder.”
Additional patches of scales grew atop Rafayel’s shoulders, a response to his unstable emotions. He leaned back, eyes looking to the side. He bit his lip, tail rolling in an irregular rhythm.
Still, Caleb didn’t let up. “Uh huh, can’t handle it when the boot is on the other - um, fin.”
Rafayel pushed his breath out quickly and forcefully then dove back in, dry towel and all.
“You’ll regret that,” the princess crouched next to the prince, handing him another towel.
“Oh?” Caleb grabbed the extra towel. “Maybe that was the plan all along.”
“It’s Rafayel!”
Caleb awakened with a jolt, delicate hands shaking him by his bare shoulders. The princess kneeled over him, her knee sunk into the mattress next to his waist.
“Caleb!” She tried again, cupping his cheeks. “Please! It’s Raf, I don’t know what to do!”
“I hear you, I hear you.” He said gently, sitting up and grabbing her wrists. As his blanket fell to his hips, the princess backtracked, moving to stand and hold out her hand.
“We need to go, please.”
He took her hand, and swung his legs over the bed. Just in his soft pants, he hobbled along quickly, shaking his head to try and get his mind on the same page. He swore cobwebs shook loose in his mind.
She led him out of his room, then next door. Rafayel’s door was already open, low groans of pain echoing from within.
Hearing that, Caleb stepped in front of the princess, crossing the threshold first. He rushed to Rafayel’s side.
Rafayel laid in bed, blanket pulled up to his abdomen. His bare chest rose and fell slowly as his hands would clench then relax atop his blanket. His groans had quieted, but his eyes were squeezed shut, teeth on display as he would grimace.
“Rafayel.” Caleb called, making sure his voice was quiet enough not to startle. When the usual flamboyant Lemurian didn’t react, Caleb reached forward.
The princess stood by, watching as Caleb pushed Rafayel’s bangs aside, his palm resting over a sweaty forehead. Her focus drifted from Rafayel up to Caleb. The feelings that washed over her were inexplicable. Even if the room was dim, only lit by a few candles, she saw a tenderness emulated in Caleb’s eyes.
“He’s burning up.” Caleb whispered, fingers sliding over Rafayel’s temple to trace sharp scales.
That made the merman arch slightly, the groans they could hear from the hall returning. This time they were less edged with pain, and more in pleasure.
“He went to bed . . . early. It’s not like him.” The princess explained what she had observed. “I brought him some water, but when I came in, he was like this. So I . . . came to you . . .” She realized that wasn’t the most logical solution. Because what could Caleb do that she couldn’t?
As if he knew they were discussing him, Rafayel slowly opened his eyes. He looked to the princess, then to Caleb. He said no words, simply watching. Uncomfortable, the two humans shifted. The way he remained silent, and the way his eyes considered to critique, made him appear predatory.
Blinking methodically, Rafayel turned his head away, then closed his eyes once more.
“Don’t want us bugging you, do you?” Caleb pondered, more to himself than anyone else in the room. “Not like you to not want to be the center of the princess’s attention.”
Rafayel adjusted his body, bending to scoot further up the pillow. He frowned as if in pain, more small scales of blue and purple grew upon his cheeks, neck, shoulder blades, arms, and torso.
Caleb pulled the blankets back, slow and steady in his movements.
There, at Rafayel’s waistband, scales peeked out from beneath the fabric - the cluster more bountiful than its counterparts.
“He’s . . . shifting?” The princess guessed aloud, unsure what to think.
“Not completely,” Caleb analyzed Rafayel’s upper body. “It’s out of his control.”
“Hush.” Rafayel croaked. “Either you help me, or leave me alone.”
“In order to do that, we need to know what’s going on with you.” The princess poked his cheek. The touch of her fingertip against his hot skin was enough for the merman to sigh, the sound seductive
“Every year, there’s a day when the tide is low, and it flows in the opposite direction. It’s when the Lemurians are at their weakest.” As he explained his hand reached for the princess’s wrist, guiding her fingers to glide down his sternum.
Despite the intimacy of the movement, Caleb didn’t leave. His eyes, controlled by dangerous curiosity, watched the interaction. Transfixed, he found the moment tender.
“Feels good,” Rafayel’s eyes closed once more, features contorting into bliss.
“Yes,” the princess breathed, eyes following Rafayel’s hand. He tried pushing it further down to his navel. She pulled away, clenching her fist to her chest. “I’m sure it does, Raf, but you’re not in your right mind.”
The merman whined, disgruntled. He wanted a touch, anything to funnel his excess energy towards a point. Even when thicker fingers advanced across his forehead, it was enough to ease him, disperse the pressure.
He could sense the two of them. Both of them settled next to him, each resting on an elbow to look down at him. The heat of their bodies thawed his apprehension, and muscles relaxed.
“Whatever happens,” Rafayel whispered, weak yet comfortable. “We’re a family.”
Caleb and the princess created a barrier to the outside world, protecting the Lemurian. The two looked at each other over Rafayel’s head. Whatever this was, whatever it was going to be, they would have to be undivided.
All three were willingly sharing a bed. Any resident of the castle could easily look in and assume the trio had a unique, taboo dynamic.
The princess heard Rafayel’s door shut, Caleb’s hand outstretched to control gravity.
Wordlessly, he returned his hand to the mattress, fingers resting gently over Rafayel’s wrist.
The Lemurian’s instincts didn’t identify the human man as a threat.
Rafayel bent his wrist, his own fingers wiggling to find the other’s. It wasn’t until Caleb slid his hand down atop of Rafayel’s, did the merman finally exhale.
Caleb didn’t read too much into it. Whenever he was in pain, sick, or simply unwell, he yearned for the touch of another, no matter who it might be.
“Lay down,” Caleb whispered.
The princess obeyed, getting as close as physically possible. Her chin touched Rafayel’s shoulder, his arm embraced by hers. His hand sought out her thigh, eventually resting there. Through the entire interaction, her eyes remained on the man on the other side of Rafayel.
Caleb’s jaw clenched, his focus on every inch of the room surrounding the bed. This was Rafayel at his weakest, utterly defenceless.
The burden of the responsibility was immense, but Caleb took pleasure in it. He finally belonged.
“Sleep, Princess. I’ll watch over us tonight.”
Rafayel was relaxed. For once, he was completely and utterly boneless.
Situated on the couch in their library, he flipped through a book detailing earth elementals. That’s right, he would defeat Caleb in a friendly sparring session one day. He swore by it.
On the floor, seated on the rug, sat the prince and the princess. Sharing a book of their own, the two had to be huddled close to read the same pages. Their shoulders touched, the contact not necessarily intentional.
Rafayel never wanted to admit he sometimes struggled to take his eyes off of them.
Caleb leaned forward to turn the page, ready to move on, and the princess puffed her cheeks, turning her head to look at him.
Rafayel wholeheartedly agreed with the princess - Caleb had boyish features. The fearsome gravity wielder was soft, appearing young and innocent, even more so with the freckles that kissed his cheeks. No one would ever guess he had such a brutal past.
Personally, Rafayel would have taken the opportunity to push the princess, perhaps flipping ahead even faster. It would provoke her, then her hands would be on him in an attempt to stop his teasing. That’s all he wanted, was her attention.
Caleb, gentle in his demeanor, went back to the previous page, nudging the princess. She smiled, expressing her thanks, and returned to reading.
Rafayel rolled his eyes, such a princess-pleaser.
Subtle in his movements, Caleb observed the princess. When her mouth continued to hold that smile, lips parting in awe in response to something she read, the human mirrored her, unable to fight the rise in the crease of his mouth. Those amethyst eyes of his were bright, reflective of a feeling so fond and warm.
Rafayel could see it, bands on their ring fingers, laughter in the morning, and quiet whispers at night. He didn’t despise either of them in his mind’s eye. He only trusted one other with his princess, and that certain someone was the prince. Anyone else, and the Lemurian would not tolerate it, let alone sit still.
He couldn't help but wonder if Caleb felt the same. The human never spoke of his feelings, what he actually felt towards the princess. Did he only harbor platonic emotions? Or did he find the battle lost, too late to try and win the princess for himself?
He cleared his throat, returning his attention to the page in front of him. Ah yes, earth elemental weaknesses, exactly what he needed. His diabolical chuckle did not remain in his chest.
The princess stood a little later, brushing off her skirts. She ascended the nearby staircase to access the next floor of shelves. It was a maze, row after row of bookcases welcomed her sight. Even if they lived in this castle her entire life, she wouldn't make a dent.
She loved it.
Her finger ran over the spines of books, labels related to Lemuria touching her fingertip. Many of them she had already read. She had started young, merely days after Rafayel had first shown her his tail. Even so, much of the content felt made up, imagined by people who bestowed upon themselves the title of expert.
Before she could grab a book that piqued her attraction - something about Lemurian tails and their anatomies - long fingers pushed the book back into its resting place.
She spun around to meet a hard chest. The shelves dug into her shoulderblades, ribs, and hips.
“I thought you asked all the questions you wanted.”
Devious eyes looked down at her.
She had asked a lot, but not all. Some, she’d prefer not to ask from the source himself.
“What are you doing?” She hissed.
Rafayel tutted, shaking his head as if disappointed. “Lower that voice, cutie, it’s a library after all.”
Her eyebrows shot up in accusation. “We’re alone.”
“No, we are not.”
This was news to her, and she wanted to identify who was in the private space with them, but Rafayel pressed against her more.
This time, she whispered. “Okay . . . so what are you doing here?”
“I’ve decided I need to kiss you in every room of this castle.” He announced like it was common knowledge. “And how convenient, we happen to be in the same aisle.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Deadly.”
The princess rose on her toes and kissed him promptly. When she was back on the flats of her boots, she went to move, but Rafayel placed an arm on either side of her.
Her protest died when he kissed her forehead, nose, chin, then mouth.
Why did he have to be such a damn good kisser?
She melted, twisting her fingers through his belt loops to tug him closer.
Rafayel obliged, content that his princess surrendered. They found their shared rhythm, losing themselves in one another.
The Lemurian could hear the maid a few aisles down, dusting books and wiping shelves. She had a new woman with her, showing her the ropes. They were chatting idly.
Rafayel’s ears perked when the princess was mentioned.
“The wedding can’t come fast enough!” The younger one squealed under her breath. “When will they set the date?”
“Shh,” the maid hushed.
“I know, I know,” the excited human continued. “But you can’t tell me the prince and princess aren’t the most handsome looking couple.”
The other huffed as if annoyed by the question, but finally caved. “They do compliment each other nicely, almost as if fate matched them herself.”
Rafayel’s mouth left the princess’s, the conversation had doused him like water from the arctic.
Was this the extent of his composure?
Why was it not a problem - how to maintain the farce? But why was the farce itself a problem? Why did he care what people thought?
Why could he think such thoughts of the two, but no one else could?
That whirlwind of logic - of endless questions, tormented him much more often than he let on. Sometimes at his study, he’d contemplate his future and what that might look like. For years, he’d been restrained, locked in by societal shackles that no longer existed. He’d never thought he would reside outside the cage the princess’s father built around him.
He’d sit for much longer than he’d like to admit, chin on his palm, staring out the window. Now that he had the freedom to decide, he was greedy, selfish, hungry to write his own story.
It was only natural he wanted to know who would be in it, and the role they’d play.
Because beneath all the luster of his loud personality, Rafayel was insecure. Each person had monsters in the deep dark recesses of their minds, his took the form of abandonment. His heart, so beautiful and bottomless, was only to be held by someone with delicate, fortified hands. He’d settle for nothing less than that - than what he himself could give another.
“This isn’t something we can put off, forever.” He wasn’t gentle. A little bite lingered on his last syllable. He had suppressed this for far too long. “The people are restless. Fuck, I’m restless.”
The princess knew Rafayel wasn’t patient. When made to wait longer than a few hours, he’d become petty.
During training, he’d once injured himself. If anyone were to ask him, he’d fought for his life - came damn near close to intermingling with death.
He had sprained his ankle.
That was besides the point. The princess and him had rehashed that often enough.
After hours of etiquette lessons, she had finally made her way to the infirmary.
She only had stepped one foot into the room when Rafayel had shot up, pushing his blankets down to his hips. His hands curled into fists, bunching the sheets in sweaty palms.
“Jelly fishes are walkin’ naked, seat turtles climb trees, sharks are eating grass for free and finally, finally you remembered me!” Was his retort, eyes narrowed into a gaze sharp and lethal.
When she retold that story the following week, the majority had assumed it was a tale from their shared childhood.
No, Rafayel was a lively, mortal twenty-four at the time.
The princess never underestimated his antics, understanding his outbursts stemmed from something much larger than what the two of them had never possessed the time to discuss.
And that made her realize she needed to tread carefully. Rafayel admitting his impatience without the attitude to disguise it, revealed he was near his limit already.
With an intake of breath and parted lips, she was ready to respond, but Rafayel beat her to it, desperate.
“I love you.” It was a fragile sentence, forbidden.
He'd only said those words once what felt like forever ago, when they were alone on the castle’s balcony. He hadn't said them since in fear of being caught. He was constantly in fear, she realized.
How could he not? Loving her, kissing her, desiring her, it was all treason. Caleb would be requested by his Court to execute the Captain.
“You wanted to know more about us? Lemurians live for love. Their entire lives will be devoted to someone, all in the name of love. There are even those who willingly burn themselves in the flame of love, burning in its sweet delight.” Rafayel tried to explain. It was hard to, as Lemurian adherence to love was so much more impressive than what words could express. That’s why he always tried so hard to show her.
“You act as if I don’t love you, as if I’m incapable of understanding. I may be human, but I feel it when I’m with you.” She cupped his cheeks. “It burns to the point it’s all-consuming. Your touch, your lips, your words, they all burn to the point that it hurts.”
”Then burn with me until the ocean itself dries out.”
“I wish I could!” Her eyes squeezed shut.
She wished. Rafayel latched onto those words. That meant, she wouldn’t. Later, he would realize he was jumping to conclusions, but in the heat of the moment, when emotions were running rampant, he wouldn’t.
“What’s stopping you?”
The world? The people? Not in a sense she cared what any one individual thought about her feelings for a mythical creature. Rather, the greatest gift she could give either of them was their freedom to love one another. However, in order to obtain such a thing in the first place, it might mean marrying a human.
Wasn’t that enforcing the current beliefs anyways?
“Caleb?” Rafayel guessed, fingers pressing into the bookshelf atop the princess’s head.
Yes, and no.
Rafayel and the princess had fought over the years, naturally. The princess had a tendency to ponder for too long, indecisive. The Lemurian had a tendency to be overly forthcoming, rapid in his questions and responses.
Of course they would clash from time to time. At least, they never directed negative emotions towards one another, aware they disagreed with an issue, not the individual themselves.
“I’m stuck.” The princess felt she had nothing intelligent to say. Her mind was jumbled and cluttered. “It’s not just us I have to think about, Raf.”
It came out wrong, they both were aware.
“I’m not asking you to think about anyone but yourself.” Rafayel said, slow. “I’m asking you to make a decision. Caleb and I will accept whatever you decide.”
“And that’s what I hate.”
She didn’t express it out loud, but she felt they sometimes walked on eggshells around her, trying to appease her, prevent upsetting her.
“Us telling you what we think you should do will only make things worse.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t all sit down and come to a decision together.”
“You’re putting it off, again.”
“Well, I won’t have an answer for you this instant!” Her face soured, irritation seeping into her skin.
“Hey,” Caleb rounded the corner. His body was tense, he had heard a part of their argument, the two were sure. That being taken into consideration meant whatever he needed to say couldn’t wait. He wouldn’t interrupt them unless he had to.
He held up a crumpled piece of parchment, the seal torn haphazardly. “We may have some allies.”
The horse swayed as Rafayel swung his leg over. Luckily, Caleb caught the reins, hushing the animal with a quiet voice and gentle palm on the snout.
It was silent otherwise, the air filled with a stretched tension. The princess knew if she raised her gaze and met a lilac stare, she’d be unable to remain even-tempered.
And she wasn’t the prettiest crier despite the rumors spread by enamored villagers.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t be the one going?” Caleb tried one last time. He felt the princess’s pain, she was practically radiating despair.
“You have a Kingdom to run.” Rafayel stroked the mane of the horse, attempting in his own way to comfort. “A wedding to plan.”
The words weren’t meant as a transgression, but the princess still recoiled. It was so faint, someone had to be observing. Caleb stepped closer to the princess, and reached out. His hand found the curve of her lower back.
She felt a guilt consume her. Caleb was a wonderful partner, and having to be bound by a man such as himself would never be difficult. She could only hope her reaction didn’t make him think such things.
“You’re not someone who can just be sacrificed,” she spoke, finally looking the Lemurian in the eyes.
“And that was never my intention.”
After the many years they had been in each other’s presence, maturity wasn’t something she’d typically associate with the Captain. His features had always been delicate and expressive, yet intimidating. Then he’d speak, petty and sure. Always, he was theatrical, garnering the attention of anyone.
Now, he appeared lifeless. His eyes were bland, mouth relaxed into a subtle line.
She felt that telling weight accumulate behind her eyes. She didn’t want them to part like this. What if something happened to him? What if they’d forever regret it?
Her hands clenched at her side, and she exhaled. That wouldn’t happen. He was strong. He would return.
“Rafayel.” Caleb warned. He shook his head with miniscule movements, conveying to the male he needed to proceed with caution.
“I’ll be back in a week’s time.” Rafayel continued as if the tension between all three wasn’t stifling. “Hopefully with reinforcements for you.”
“Turn back if anything remotely feels out of place.” Caleb ordered.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Rafayel waved him off, lifting the reins to turn the horse.
He didn’t say anything after.
The first night without Rafayel in the library with the two humans was desolate. No fun words were exchanged, and the pair read separately. Even the compelling book describing space and interstellar travel didn’t lift Caleb’s spirits. He had been waiting so impatiently to describe the stars and planets to anyone who cared to listen. He knew he could entrap the duo with new information regarding celestial fae. But now, it wouldn’t feel right if Rafayel wasn’t there.
The second night, Caleb found the book Rafayel had hidden from him - an entire breakdown of earth elementals. He feathered through a few pages, chuckling to himself at the misinformation. The Lemurian could have just asked, Caleb would have answered.
Caleb missed him, he couldn’t believe it.
The third night, he was unable to fall asleep. He tossed and turned, threw his blankets off and on, and even tried placing his head at the foot of the bed. It did nothing.
He stood at his window, admiring the constellations above. Touching them was impossible, he knew that, but it never extinguished his interest. To travel amongst galaxies, he’d never stop exploring. He knew who would be waiting for him when he’d eventually return.
They were harmless thoughts, the imagination of someone who desired adventure. He grew sleepy, finally hearing the call of his plush pillows and soft blankets.
As he stretched and yawned, he paused, movements freezing. Something felt off, he wasn’t alone.
This was different. Attempts on his life prior to this were easy, feeling similar to a training exercise. Rafayel usually posed more of a challenge if he was being honest.
A whisper flitted past his ear, a small breeze caressing his back. The windows weren’t open, neither was his door. He turned, eyes locking on one of his pillows. His knife was there, within a few steps then a long reach. He could make it.
He pivoted quickly. The shadows in his room flexed, materialized. They were nimble, crossing the length of his room faster than he could achieve his few strides.
Then he was consumed.
In his consciousness he reminded himself. All their attention had been on fortifying the castle, protecting the prince, and making sure there were no more assassination attempts on Rafayel.
How careless.
Where again had they heard the experiments had been revealed? Was there truly to ever be an attack on his land? Did Rafayel meet his demise in a trap?
Caleb fell to his knees, hands curling against the hard floor. His breath was locked in his chest, the metal of his hand creating a jolt of painful vibration that traveled up his arm as he slammed his fist down. He was disappointed in himself, failing the two individuals who he unconditionally cared for.
Blood dripped over his brow, falling to splash between his hands. He stared at the drop as a few more joined, the splatters unequal and distracting. The wound stung, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.
He was alone once again.
Caleb rose, reaching for his hairline. His fingers felt the sticky substance, using it to push his hair back. He didn’t care if it was improper - revolting, even.
The prince didn’t need to check the princess’s chambers, seeing as the door was left ajar, and evidence of struggle was prominent. His lips twitched into a pitiful smirk - she’d put up a fight both he and Rafayel would have been proud of. But, it wasn't enough.
He pushed open Rafayel’s door, tripping then catching himself on the Lemurian’s desk. He was so, so dizzy. The room faded, returned, and pulsed.
“Your Highness!”
Arms grabbed to support him before he hit the ground. They were the hands of a woman. If he remembered correctly, her voice revealed she was the princess’s lady in waiting.
Her name escaped him at the current moment.
He fell against her, both of them sitting on the floor. He relied on her, back to her chest, clutching his head. Caleb was in a state of panic, logic fleeting. He needed to do everything he could to try and catch up to the princess, she couldn’t have been too far away from the castle.
Unless transportation magic was involved.
But there was no residue, no shift in the air. He was sure the capture was purely mundane.
He fell back to the floor as his support let out a shrill shriek. The back of his head collided with the rug, and he groaned, ready to scold the servant.
When his eyes opened, he focused on the ceiling. Above him was a lopsided triangle of light, the shape unsteady and shaking. It was a glint, something was reflecting in the room.
Something like metal.
He sat up fast, looking to his right, absorbing the grey that made up his arm. Dread, heavy and unbearable, slid down his front, scheming deep in his abdomen.
The fairy who had cast the illusion must have been slain. Which also meant -
“Who are you?”
Caleb moved to his hands and knees, grabbing the edge of the desk to stand. Brown eyes saw an intruder, gaze remaining on him as she took a few steps back. She was retreating to the hall, seconds away from screaming for the guards.
Colette, that was her name. He remembered now. Her brother worked in the courtyard, an apprentice to the farrier.
He’d have to kill her. He’d have to end the mortal bond between two siblings. He had to.
The things he would do for the two he loved.
The woman before him kneeled, limbs shaking as she fought an invisible force. Colette whimpered, her fingers spread as her palms were pressed flat to the ground.
This faux prince of hers swayed, his body seemingly weak. If the blood upon his head was any indication, he was fighting an injury that toyed with his consciousness. Even so, there was nothing she could do against whatever power he was manipulating. It weighed heavy over her shoulders, the back of her neck, and spine. Most of it was located around her mouth, lips welded shut so no sound could escape.
Terror hugged her from behind, wrapping its heavy arms around her torso. With that embrace came a sense of peace. As she watched the prince reach for a letter opener from the Captain’s desk, she realized her fear would end soon. Her impending death might be slow, but it would eventually reach a conclusion.
Caleb silently cursed Rafayel. A letter opener wasn’t sharp enough to make his kill swift. The Lemurian had no spare daggers around.
As he took a few heavy steps forward, he steeled himself, transitioning into the man he was when loneliness was his only friend. While his emotions and thoughts were full of depth, colorful to the point of blinding, he found that dim, shallow part of himself. He was ruthless, immune to mercy.
He hated it.
That hesitation was enough to wane his senses. Gravity required an absolute wielder.
The split second was enough for Colette to break his invisible grasp - her sharp scream ringing through the halls.
Defeated, Caleb closed his eyes, felt more warmth slide down his face. He didn’t fight when rough hands enclosed around his wrists, when shackles, cold and hard, locked his hands behind his back. Even when his ambition returned, and his shoulders rocked free from the guards, he was on the ground before he could make it out the door. Blurry vision revealed the boots of at least ten guards - guards trained by the Captain he knew too well.
“Where is the Prince?”
Caleb didn’t answer the Knight asking, nausea clogging his throat. His mouth watered. One word, and he’d be sick. He vaguely thought he probably had a concussion.
“Where is the Prince?”
It was asked again, but this time it was accompanied by a rough pull of his hair. His cheek left the ground, only to be slammed down once more when the guard simply released him.
“Take him to the dungeons.”
He was grabbed by his underarms then lifted, struggling to find his footing beneath him. As he was dragged, the tips of his boots sliding across the floor, he saw the guards search the princess’s room. They wouldn’t find anything, she was long gone.
And that might have been for the better. Who knows what they would do to the princess and Rafayel now that the protection his status had offered was now illegitimate.
The cell placed him in was damp, crude with something sticky flung across the stone walls. The scent was pungent and metallic, forcing Caleb’s nose to scrunch. He swallowed, his hand coming to seal his lips.
A young Lemurian wouldn’t be in a cell over this time. Matter of fact, there wasn’t a single soul aside from his own.
Situating himself in the corner of the cell, he hugged his knees to his chest, resting his forehead atop the small mountains his legs created. He knew it was wrong to sleep with an injury sustained to his head, but he was tired.
As his eyelids grew heavier and his limbs grew numb, Caleb wondered what Rafayel might do.
After all, Rafayel was the only one who wasn’t chained down. At least, that’s all he could hope for.
Rafayel walked over to his horse, mud caking the bottom of his boots to the point he had to grab the pommel of the saddle to make sure he didn’t slip. Rain trailed over his features, dampening his hair, and making it stick to his forehead.
The fabric and leather of his outfit was completely soaked, glued to his body like a second skin. It was miserable, and it was heavy.
Due to his true nature, the chill from the elements didn’t bother him. The droplets of cold water running down his body reminded him of the ocean when he got near the bottom, when lukewarm water transformed into something frigid.
He slid his left boot through the stirrup and mounted, grimacing when the standing water that had accumulated in his saddle bled through his trousers.
With a click of his tongue, he urged the horse to the left, avoiding the body that laid at the horse’s hooves.
It had been a ruse.
There was no meeting, no soldiers ready to support his prince. Instead, they were underground merchants, eager to get disgusting hands on beautiful scales. Their greed, alive and healthy in beady eyes, gave them away.
Rafayel took no pleasure in killing, but he also felt no remorse. What he found in the back of their cart had revealed he wouldn’t have been their first victim.
He had been too late for what he had assumed was a fairy and fire elemental.
Lovers, judging by how they had clutched onto one another moments before death.
Rafayel had gently laid them to rest despite not knowing their customs. With his flame, he had burned them, watching as the inferno turned to a scattering of glittery orbs reminiscent of fireflies, twinkling pieces of their essence.
It wasn’t hard for his mind to replace them with a Lemurian and human princess, following one another into the afterlife.
He had clutched his chest at that thought, feeling the phantom of a brand. All he needed was consent, and the covenant would be born. His chest ached, begging for the completion of the bond. Forever tied to the princess, she would be his greatest strength, yet also his greatest weakness.
He should have just told her he was scared. His outburst he wouldn’t regret. His words had been true to himself, allowing himself to feel his frustrations. It just hadn’t of been everything, he hadn’t of given his princess a chance to provide an answer. How could she when she didn’t know the whole story?
The moment he laid his eyes on her again he’d bring her into his arms, bury his face into the crook of her neck and reveal his thoughts, no matter how vulnerable it made him.
He would tell Caleb, too. He wouldn’t hesitate.
No matter how much he yearned to get to them faster, the storm overhead prevented his horse from gaining any traction within the muck at its feet. So he was forced to sit atop his horse, set to a constant walk. If only an ocean separated them, he could swim without ever stopping.
He smiled gently, imagining his recovery from an endless swim with his two favorite people doting on him. Caleb would see through his antics so fast. The princess loved him too much not to.
Thoughts of their trio kept the Lemurian occupied - made the storm bearable. He arrived at an inn for the night, drenched and tired.
He removed his hood when entering, scanning the dining area to the side. Many patrons seemed on edge, interested in his presence as he purchased a room for the night. Discreetly, he wiggled his fingers, ready to summon his dagger at a moment’s notice.
After the innkeeper gave him the keys to his room, Rafayel took a seat in the corner of the inn, close enough to the fireplace he just might begin drying. But, not too close to the point he became a crispy fish. It was a delicate balance, indeed.
A young human woman brought him grilled salmon and vegetables, in which he quietly began to feast on. In between each bite, his eyes would dart around, paranoid. Everyone whispered, hands covering their mouths as they peeked at him.
He once more brought his hood over his head, concealing his eyes. He took a deep breath in, then out. His arms folded, concentrating. In the reflection of his fork he saw the smudge of blue, an impression of his vibrant eyes. As a merman, he was naturally in tune with the sound of the ocean waves, hearing their ebb and flow. His heightened senses for his habitat could be molded to fit his needs when on land.
“I think that’s him, the disgraced prince’s Captain.” The woman across from him, dressed in a light orange dress, whispered to her companion. “What is he doing out here?”
“Probably took his chance to run, smart move on his end.” Her companion, a shapeshifter, replied.
Rafayel’s brows furrowed, his lips curling into a frown.
“Surprised he didn’t take the princess with him,” the shapeshifter added. “Rumor has it her disappearance was due to him. Gabrielle owes me five coins”
It took all his willpower not to stand suddenly. Any abrupt movement would completely give him away. Something terrible had happened in his absence.
He focused on another group of travelers - a husband, wife, and their child.
“We need to get out of here.” The mother said quietly to her husband, her hands idly playing with the small hands of their son. “Even if that man was truly no prince, I fear he was someone who protected us.”
Rafayel flinched, realizing the family were mythical creatures in disguise. Certain fae took on an impeccable human form, impossible to identify unless a fatal mistake was made. If they were scared, others who could not muster such a form must have been terrified.
The father spoke, tearing bread apart into small pieces and placing them in front of the child. It seemed more to be an action to distract oneself.
“He’s set to be executed in four days’ time.”
Firewood popped, crackling as a log fell. Someone was washing dishes in the kitchen. A chair scraped the ground as a patron stood.
It was overwhelming, Rafayel wanted to shut out the entire world. He couldn’t be there. He wasn’t tired anymore, he was anxious, leg bouncing as he shoveled the rest of the food into his mouth.
Why wasn’t Caleb resisting?
He couldn’t have given up, it wasn’t possible. Did the human not realize his life was no longer his own?
Standing, Rafayel dabbed the corners of his mouth quickly with the provided rag, leaving a few extra coins adjacent to his empty plate.
It didn’t take much to manipulate the innkeeper, relying on the parts of him considered ethereal by humans. With a deepened voice and gentle eyes, Rafayel wove a tale, convincing the innkeeper to exchange his room fee for a new horse, one that would be well rested and raring to run.
He was on the road once again, squinting through the relentless rain. He would only stop when the horse could go on no longer. If he were to push the poor thing, it would take him two days to reach Caleb’s castle. He’d have to do it, he wouldn’t allow them to take the human’s life.
Wherever the princess was, he was confident they wouldn’t take her from this world. She was authentic royalty, daughter to a man who still held immense power. His training when he first began the journey to become a full-fledged Knight, had ingrained base concepts. Only make a decision based on irrefutable facts.
Without his title, Caleb had been stripped down to wear the robes of a traitor.
And traitors were never left to live.
Lesser men would most likely fault Rafayel, and question why he was rushing as if saving his princess. If he was genuinely conniving, this would be the one chance to eliminate his competition. But that was the thing, Caleb was never a threat.
He was irreplaceable.
Rafayel would stop at nothing to reunite the three of them.
He would save their prince.
Notes:
I have some space in the following chapter. Any tropes you want to see? Any questions you need answered? Let me know.
Chapter 8: You're Free
Summary:
“You believe that we don’t need you? You truly think that?”
Caleb’s body ceased to exist. His limbs went numb, a cocktail of unknown emotions washed over him like a waterfall, frigid. It was overwhelming, the onslaught impossible for him to filter through and pluck a single emotion to process. It was too fast, too sudden.
Rafayel observed him, so meticulously he might as well have produced a notebook and scribbled notes. Caleb looked at him with bloated eyes, Caleb sucked in air, Caleb shuffled his body to point his attention at the merman. All of it, Rafayel saw it all.
It was time he told him the truth.
Chapter Text
Rafayel stood just on the edge of the castle’s moat.
A lump had formed in his throat minutes ago, teasing his gag reflex. Every swallow made it more prominent, more maddening. He wanted to reach inside and claw it out.
The vegetation around the moat had grown thicker since he had last seen it. Or rather, since he had trudged through it decades before.
He closed his eyes, willing such images away, reaching to undress out of his outer layers. It was quick and effortless, the folded articles resting at the base of a tree.
Rafayel dove into the filthy muck, his stomach occasionally skimming across the muddy lakebed. His tail undulated in a steady, lazy rhythm. It was intentional, as any splash or prominent ripple might alert the guards posted on the walls above. He couldn’t necessarily dim his ethereal glow, but the lack of clear water aided him.
He swam until he found the waterway that led to the dungeons. His path was obscured by thin bars, in which he swiftly cut with his dagger. Then he was encountering stone, surfacing to see steps.
Shifting had to be done briskly, his legs forming just in time for him to climb the few stairs and parry a sword. He counted four guards, each armed with a different weapon. The archer in the far corner was leaned against cell bars, his legs crossed. He tossed an apple up and down, a nasty smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Near his boots, a hand could be seen within the cell, curled in its natural resting position.
Rafayel grunted, ducking to swipe at legs. As the guard fell forward, the merman rose, flipping his blade to drive it into the man’s lower back. He twisted the handle, then pulled at a slant, severing crucial nerves. The human would live, but would never fight again. Death, was in some cases, too merciful.
“What have you done?” His voice was dark. Rage bubbled at the base of his throat, brewing so intensely his fingers shook. Scales grew upon his skin, littering his arms to his shoulders. They were hidden beneath his shirt, pulsating. The ones upon his cheeks were proudly on display, cobalt eyes promising retribution.
The second guard to his right approached, a lance resting upon his shoulder. When he reached to execute a stance, Rafayel extended his arm, flicking his wrist just right for his blade to fly. The point embedded itself in the pit of the guard’s arm, where no armor shielded the thin skin.
A groan echoed within his forged helmet, hand dropping his lance so he could reach for the weapon lodged in his arm. Rafayel took that opportunity, erasing the distance between the two of them in three quick strides, his hands gripping shoulders as his leg wrapped around the back of his opponent’s. The man fell backwards, landing with a harsh cry. Removing his blade, Rafayel drove it next into the crook of the guard’s elbow.
“Move, and you will lose more than just your arm,” Rafayel threatened.
The defeated guard whimpered in response, pressing into the wound in an attempt to staunch the bloodflow.
Rafayel faced the archer once more, stalking towards him. “I asked once, I’ll ask again,” his voice shook, barely containing his fury. “What have you done?”
“Captain-”
Eyes bright with an azure flare darted to the guard who spoke. Standing on the opposite end of the dungeon stood a young guard proficient in the use of a mace. Within the slits of his helmet, Rafayel met quaking hazel irises. Pity was absent within the merman, numb to any word muttered. No matter the reason, nothing justified treating a prisoner in such a manner. It disgusted him.
Hesitation made Rafayel chuckle, his foot swiveled to point him in the direction of his next opponent. No matter what the young guard might have said to justify his doubt, he still stood by, cowardly and wordless.
Not good enough.
The man yelled, rushing forward. He swung blindly, the chain of his mace jangling in protest, the momentum uneven and stressed, forcing the chain taut at inopportune times.
Rafayel stepped to the side, dodging once more by repeating the action. His opponent took no time to think, allowing fear to fuel him. It was hasty and uncoordinated. It allowed Rafayel to maneuver around the man, grab both wrists, and yank. Once close enough, his hands jumped to the handle and end of the chain near the flail.
The chain dug into the guard’s neck as Rafayel wrenched the man backwards into him. Armored fingers grazed Rafayel’s sides and thighs, unable to cause damage with rounded tips.
Only when the man’s body went limp did Rafayel let go, watching the body drop. He was breathing, unconscious.
Rafayel stepped over him, eyes locked on his original target. The archer still toyed with the apple, bow balanced within his other hand.
Caleb lay behind the bars the archer remained affixed to. On his back, his metal arm was draped across his stomach, head turned to look out the cell his limp hand reached for. Eyes closed, Rafayel only exhaled when he saw the steady rise and fall of Caleb’s chest.
“Finally,” the archer exasperated as if it had been a chore to participate as an audience member.
Rafayel ignored it, familiar with the cocky tactic. Afterall, it was the exact same technique he used. Unless it was now, when a potent wrath stalked his senses.
Without another moment’s waste, Rafayel aimed his dagger, launching it at the archer’s sternum. The man lifted his bow, permitting the blade to implant itself deep within the curved wood.
“Missed,” the archer taunted.
Rafayel straightened, standing tall. “Did I?”
He snapped his fingers, carmine flames unfurling from the honed weapon. They engulfed the wood, snapping the string. Burnt flesh singed the air, the archer screaming as flames writhed up his arm. Their owner snapped one last time, extinguishing his inferno before it touched the archer’s face. From fingers to shoulder his skin was scorched, smoking where black char formed.
Rafayel raised his hand, pressing his middle finger to his thumb, tormenting.
The archer fled, stumbling up the staircase located between the lines of cells. It seemed the others had done the same, aside from the unconscious guard, his mace lying by his side.
Rafayel made quick work of the cell bars, falling into a kneel next to Caleb. His hands lifted the human so he rested against the wall.
He cupped Caleb’s cheeks, thumbs brushing gently under his eyes.
“Caleb,” the Lemurain whispered, and patted the side of his face. “Caleb.”
“The princess . . .” Caleb turned his head, grimacing, His body remained slumped, limbs aching and muscles screaming.
“I know.”
Rafayel looked around, trying to find anything to wipe the blood from Caleb’s forehead. Nothing soft was within the cell, not even hay for a makeshift bed. He pulled his sleeve down past his wrist, clamped the fabric between his palm and forefingers, and swabbed the gooey substance.
It was quite the understatement to say the human was weak. Cell bars were as frail as toothpicks to a gravity wielder, yet there wasn’t a single sign of struggle, or attempt at breaking the metal.
Caleb’s wound had been left untreated. It festered, creating an unsightly, bronze paste that clumped at the roots of his hair.
The Lemurian kneeled, his arms scooping beneath the human to lift him into unshakeable arms.
He’d have to hold onto Caleb when they took the plunge, and prevent him from sinking to tragic depths.
Rafayel stared at relaxed lips. Despite being grody and dehydrated, Caleb’s lips had remained petal pink.
It wouldn’t be the worst kiss in the world.
The Lemurian looked around, even spun a full circle once. This wouldn’t do. Caleb wasn’t awake, there was absolutely no way he could consent.
Rafayel would have to come out a different way than he came in.
He eyed the curving staircase at the end of the hall. Narrow and dark, he’d be inked in the shadows of the crevices, swallowed, then consumed. Vision was limited, the bends within privy to hide those with intention to harm - those with gleaming daggers, blunt hammers, and a pension for violence. Flames danced atop torches, lit for so long soot tarnished the stone. That was the only source of light.
It served its purpose. No one wanted to enter, no one wanted to leave.
It was all too familiar. When he was a child, that staircase offered an end, even if permanent. Whatever his captors had given him prevented his human legs from forming. The boy in the cell next to him had promised he’d carry him, sling him over his back and drag that tail at adolescent heels to their death. As they were unable to see each other, the boy at the time hadn't understood Lemurian tails were long and heavy, even when young. Despite that, the commitment had been comforting.
Rafayel now held that boy in his arms.
“I’ll get us out of here,” Rafayel muttered. He would return Caleb’s past pledge.
Caleb nuzzled against Rafayel’s collarbone, eyebrows bending to create a look of apprehension. Even in a state of rest, the human worried.
His nostrils flared, inhaling to devour Rafayel’s scent. As if Caleb’s body recognized him, he nuzzled harder against Rafayel, attempting to climb into the male possessing him. When his attempts were futile, his eyes opened to look up and observe the Lemurian.
“Set me down,” Caleb commanded, his voice stealing Rafayel’s attention.
“I’m not sure you’re ready,” Rafayel angled his head down, eyes solemn when witnessing the human wince.
“Just set me down.”
Bare feet dropped to the ground with a heavy slap. Rafayel could only imagine - the vibration of pain that sprouted from the ankle and bolted up to weak knees. Caleb’s hands arced over the merman’s shoulders, curving to hook onto muscle, thumbs gentle upon collarbones. Naturally, Rafayel steadied Caleb with hands at his waist. He was under the impression that if he squeezed even a hair too hard, hips would crush and crumble to fragments of bone.
“No one said it had to be the lips, right?” Caleb asked.
Rafayel’s mind was sludge, slow to catch up to Caleb’s inquiry. Once he tore his gaze from the human’s slim, frail waist, he met his companion’s stare. Caleb’s eyes were dull, unlike their usual bold shade of plum. Still, Caleb had enough in him to jut his chin in the direction of the water.
“I’m not sure,” Rafayel shrugged. “I have no doubt you will let me know if you can breathe or not.”
Caleb’s mouth twitched, smiling with his lips. His mouth felt like a cavern littered with cobwebs, sticky and dry. Considering his captors had barely wanted to provide water, anything related to hygiene was completely out of the question.
Kissing the other on the mouth wasn’t the issue. No, it was the rancid taste in his own mouth, the bile that rested at the base of his throat. It would be a horrible first impression.
Rafayel approached slowly, lips parted just enough Caleb caught sight of a soft tongue. He pressed his lips between Caleb’s eyebrows, remaining in place for a few seconds longer than expected. Caleb hadn’t of moved an inch, eyes open as he stared at Rafayel’s chin. He could hear it, the intake of breath from Rafayel, the hiss of air against his forehead. Rafayel’s entire presence commanded him, honed his attention to a fine point, and expelled any outside disturbances.
Then, Rafayel was bending at his knees, looping his arm beneath Caleb’s lower thighs, and lifting. The room tilted, and he was being carried once more.
Rafayel took the few steps into the water, and dipped, submerging the both of them.
From there, he seamlessly maneuvered the human to his back, making sure Caleb hung on from behind, his arms resting over Rafayel’s shoulders. Rafayel held Caleb’s hands with one over his sternum, ensuring they would remain locked together.
The momentum of the Lemurian’s tail against the front of his thighs was odd. Rafayel’s body moved in ways that were truly otherworldly, flowing like silk hung outside to sway in the wind.
Caleb couldn't quite comprehend how he was able to inhale below the water’s surface, or how his vision was crystal clear. Rafayel’s low grunts when fighting the sludge of the lakebed were prominent, almost as if Rafayel’s mouth was near his ear.
Those observations occupied his thoughts till they resurfaced. Rafayel placed him against the tree where his overcoat originally laid folded. Once dressed, he picked Caleb back up, carrying him without a single thought, walking at his natural pace.
“I can only assume they took our princess back to her father’s castle,” Rafayel spoke, posture rigid, eyes constantly on the move.
Caleb would have shook the other by the shoulders if he had the strength. “You saved me first?”
“Calm down, would you?” Rafayel glared at him for a second before returning to look ahead. “Yes, I did.”
“You’re insane.”
“That’s a funny way to thank me.”
Caleb reached and curled his fingers around the front of Rafayel’s overcoat. It was his way of protest, but Rafayel didn’t budge. Both of them stubborn towards one another, debating would prove pointless.
“Do me a favor and rest,” Rafayel sighed. “We have a long road ahead, and I’m not in the mood to carry you the entire way. Unless, that’s what you want, my Prince.”
Speaking would require too much energy. This once he would listen.
He drifted off rather quickly, the constant rocking back and forth soothing his senses. Even in his dreams however, the Lemurian appeared, that antagonizing smirk of his boiling Caleb’s blood.
Caleb, losing to his subconscious, didn’t argue with the male. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the other, his forehead coming to rest upon a strong shoulder with a gentle thunk. He succumbed, gentle and sweet.
“Thank you.”
Rafayel spent many days staying by Caleb’s side. The first order of business had been to convince the man to eat slowly. When Caleb locked onto the loaf of bread, Rafayel wasn’t able to stop him in time before dirt caked nails and metal were tearing the food apart, splitting off into small, soft clumps of fluff.
Rafayel handed the human a glass of water just as Caleb began coughing. “You’re going to hurt yourself,” Rafayel had warned gently.
Whatever Caleb was ready to retort with came out a jumbled mess, muffled by the bread lodged in his throat.
With his belly full and a protector on guard, finally, the human was able to find restful sleep.
Delicately, Rafayel tended to each of Caleb’s fingers, removing clumps of grit from between skin and nail. Once that task was completed, he stood, and meandered over to the bathroom in the far corner.
They had stumbled across an abandoned hunter’s cabin a few days into their escape. The ceiling was partially caved in above the makeshift kitchen, a few of the windows were shattered, and the blankets had splotches of mold. Rafayel had discarded those, and covered Caleb with his overcoat, leaving his own upper body solely clad in his leather vest.
Rafayel returned with a bowl of water and the cleanest cloth he could find. With wet hands, he slid his fingers through Caleb’s matted hair. Crumbs of blood stuck to the skin between his fingers, in which he would rinse off in the dish of water. It was tedious, a welcome methodical, repetitive action that eased his mind. Caleb was in front of him, tangible, and real.
He cleaned the wound, inspecting it carefully. Caleb’s scalp was split, curls of black lines budded from the gash, disappearing underneath the human’s thick hair.
He had been cursed, a victim to a spell Rafayel was unable to decipher. However, he could identify it wasn’t permanent, simply meant to impede recovery and slow the injured individual down.
Most likely to prevent Caleb from defeating the princess’s kidnapper.
In other words, Caleb would have stood a chance.
Caleb only awoke to eat and take care of his other daily needs. Rafayel kept the mood light, teasing Caleb even at his lowest. Though, the Lemurian’s touches conveyed unease.
They left the cabin when Caleb felt strong enough to walk. His fingers would hang onto Rafayel’s sleeve, seeking a steady foundation. Their pace was slow, and Caleb required multiple moments to lean against anything upright.
That morning they had found a village, colorful and imbued with magic. A stream ran down the center, embraced by green foliage. Children crouched along the edge, releasing miniature wooden boats to watch them race downstream. Arched bridges connected both main streets, surrounded by interconnected flats and shops. Roofs were a subtle copper, the exterior walls sometimes blue, yellow, red, and orange. Hanging plants decorated overhangs, some attached to lamp posts, others over the railings that were stationed along the streets.
The hue of magic emerged from the mythical beings who resided in the settlement. As Rafayel and Caleb stood at the village entrance, both spied multiple beings with wings, some fairly-like, others reptilian in nature. Boys ran around in the village square with wooden swords, participating in a mock-battle with one another. A few were human, while some had soft ears atop their heads.
Everyone within appeared happy, enjoying the pleasant bustle of everyday life.
Silently, Rafayel grabbed Caleb’s arm by his wrist and slung it over his shoulder.
Caleb tried to pull his arm away, but Rafayel held true. “Don’t,” Rafayel scolded.
“But-” Caleb looked around, noticing prying eyes.
“I spent my whole life being observed, this is nothing.”
Rafayel felt Caleb’s stare out of his periphery. He was ready to shut down whatever the human was thinking. As if knowing his intentions, Caleb remained silent.
They hobbled along together, a spectacle to the locals. Their stares skimmed the pair’s limbs, assessing unabashedly. Caleb shivered despite the weather’s over abundance of heat. He hated it, the scrutiny of his arm. It glinted beneath the sun, begging for attention, drawing gazes as if his arm bore silver and gold.
Rafayel understood. Every step he took was calculated. As a child, a simple accidental brush against an arm or leg earned felt exaggerated, as if he had gone and shoved the person. Only because he was considered different. It worsened as he aged and obtained his title. The royals and their lives were tangled within his hands, wrapped around his fingers as strings of fate. Every breath taken seemed monitored, every twitch of a muscle ridiculed.
The only person who lured their attention away was the princess.
There was no destination, no intended purpose for their visit to the village. They were passing through, simply searching for the exit. Their aim was to get to the other side, and continue forth to where they figured the princess was being held.
That was, until Rafayel caught sight of sweet treats. More particularly, the shelf that housed a sea themed assortment of cakes.
The lady, whom Caleb could only guess was in charge, worked behind the counter. She was counting her income, a batch of change in the well of her palm, the other hand busy extracting individual coins from the pile.
When she assumed she had a pair of customers, she rounded the corner of the counter, and approached them.
“What a handsome couple.” The shopkeeper gushed, standing in front of the two.
“We’re not-” Caleb started.
“Newlyweds.” Rafayel interjected, loud enough the lady hadn't even heard Caleb. “Married, just last week.”
Caleb would kill him, roast him over a fire, add some salt, then have a very, very enjoyable seafood dinner. Oh no, the Lemurian had spent too much time on land, dried out. Caleb hadn’t found water in time, was what he would tell the princess.
“It’s been a difficult time,” Rafayel continued, brows knitting to create a frown. “We were robbed on our way to our new home.”
Yes, the male dressed in leathers with a physique supportive of lethal maneuvers, and a muscular man sporting a metal arm were attacked and lost the battle. No one, and Caleb meant no one, would believe that.
“Oh, my poor dears!” The woman reached forward, placing a hand on their cheeks, Rafayel’s left, and Caleb’s right.
Rafayel nodded, eyes closing as if savoring the comforting touch. His fingers pinched Caleb’s side, squeezing the skin harder when Caleb didn’t do anything.
“He did his best to protect me,” Caleb said, solemn. “But I was still injured.”
Rafayel would kill him, how dare he make the public question his ability to protect.
“Maybe if you had placed yourself in a better spot, and didn’t get yourself captured, I wouldn’t have had to save your sorry ass.” Rafayel fired back, then stiffened. His tone had been too firm to sound like a lover’s whisper of concern. “You worry me when you do that, honey, makes me snap.”
“No worries, snookums.”
Rafayel was no fool, Caleb was casting a net hoping to entrap a fish.
“My sweet little apple,” Rafayel laid it on thick, spreading it methodically as if he himself decorated the cakes on display. He swiped a curved finger underneath Caleb’s jaw. “Keep talking like that and you just might get lucky tonight.”
Like the skin of said ripe, red apple, the woman’s face melted into an enticing shade of rouge, eyes brimming with sympathy. She too had experienced such rampant desire at some point. Rafayel’s eyes skillfully snuck over to her hand. A band, golden yet scratched, wrapped snug around her ring finger.
“My husband and I don’t have much,” she gestured to the bakery behind her. It was a cozy little setup they had, chairs and tables welcoming customers to sit and chat outside with a tasty treat. An assortment of flowers and plants encased the interior, transporting patrons to a much more natural world. “But, you can stay with us.”
Rafayel tilted his chin, absorbing the second floor. A few windows detailed there were only two rooms. There was no sense of discomfort sharing a room with the human draped over him, instead he worried about their cover.
“Truly?” The merman lit up, mimicking a kid finding their most prized possession. “Oh, we would appreciate that greatly. Right, honey?”
Caleb hesitated, hand gripping the curve of Rafayel’s shoulder, aiding himself to stand a little straighter. Amethysts sparkled, caught in a ray of sun. They held Rafayel’s violet irises captive.
To any onlookers, it looked as if two lovers were silently communicating. They were, except they weren’t in love.
“Thank you,” Caleb addressed the woman. He was sincere.
The two likened the woman’s smile to that of a mother’s - warm and welcoming. No shame grabbed a hold of them, no embarrassment. She truly wanted to provide them a temporary home for nothing in return.
She introduced herself as Mary, establishing her shop and home. She led them up the stairs located in the back corner, hidden by more plants that spiraled along walls. Caleb stumbled over the first few steps, jostling his support. Rafayel steadied him by reinforcing his grip on Caleb’s wrist and hip, waiting. With a deep breath in together, they continued.
The room in store for them was cozy. By no means large, it served its purpose. Warm with the hues of wood, a bed was tucked away in the corner. A small desk sat a few feet next to it, beneath a window that overlooked the streets below. Books were arranged neatly in a bookshelf by the door, some glass figurines and trinkets lay near the edges, threatening to topple over. The bathroom was concealed by an engraved door. The designs carved within the wood represented vines and leaves, continuing the trend of nature.
Once they bid Mary farewell, Rafayel helped Caleb to bed, pulling back the blankets and setting the human atop of sheets. Caleb was hushed, the events of the day assaulting his body. He slumped at his shoulders, the joints rolling forward enough to curve his spine. He was exhausted.
“You should go on without me.”
Rafayel ignored him, reaching into their pack to pull out a small vial of medicine. He disappeared shortly to find a glass of water and returned. Standing in front of the man, he held the cup in one hand, a pill in the other. When Caleb snatched the pill from the palm of Rafayel’s hand, his metal fingers slid over flesh, cold and lifeless.
“No.” Rafayel took the empty glass, setting it on the desk. Caleb’s furrow of his brows was defiant.
“Every day we wait, is another chance lost rescuing our princess.” Caleb pushed. “I will be safe here.”
Rafayel cleared his throat dramatically, covering his lips with a fist. He plopped down in the chair in front of the desk. “No.”
What proceeded was silence. The merman adjusted, crossing his legs. His elbow braced against the flat plane of the desk, his hand curled to rest his mouth against.
“I can’t do this without you,” Rafayel muttered, lips smooshed against his knuckles.
Even if his intention had been to disguise the truth, Caleb heard.
Such words seduced a certain quality hidden deep within. Caleb catered to emotions and actions that cultivated protection.
Almost obsessively so.
For his loved ones, he’d shoulder all burdens if it meant they didn’t have to.
“That, and I’d hate to steal all the glory,” Rafayel winked.
Their mirroring smiles were fond.
“I know you miss her,” Caleb admitted, regardless.
He had seen it in multiple instances when Rafayel believed Caleb had dozed off or been distracted. Caleb witnessed the distant look in the merman’s eyes, the smirk that would form then vanish when no princess was present to hear. Even the air around felt heavy, dampened by an ache pulsating within. When lips tilted up, eyes remained shallow.
Initially, Caleb wondered if he felt inferior. Questioned whether a nag along his scalp was irritation from inadequacy.
“As if you don’t, either.”
Rafayel’s words were accompanied by an expression sculpted in stone. Expressionless, void of any humor, indigo irises communicated sympathy. Wordlessly, he was telling Caleb that neither of them yearned more than the other.
Rafayel could see himself in the human seated in front of him. Their souls teased one another, mingled, and played within the plane created by them. It was their own - unique. Untouchable by no other, they understood what the other required.
The Lemurian held out his hand, palm facing the ceiling. Caleb took it just as Rafayel stood and pulled. The human fell into an embrace, unexpected.
“There, there,” Rafayel cooed, patting his back. “Just rest up and we will save our princess.”
“You’re lucky I’m injured, I’d have you begging for mercy fast.”
“Yes, of course, my big, strong, Prince.”
Caleb rolled his eyes even with his face pressed into an abdomen. Rafayel chuckled, the sound vibrating against the human.
“I’m not saying anything,” Caleb said.
“Oh, I know, but whether you like it or not, you don’t even have to.”
Spread across the floor was a large sheet of paper, marred by ink, an array of lines and various shapes.
“And this here is the entrance,” Rafayel gestured to an imperfect rectangle, using the handle of the brush to poke the space encapsulated by the shape. “Only the princess and I know about it.”
“Only you two?” Caleb asked in disbelief. He leaned on his metal arm, the polished material pressed against Rafayel’s sleeve. They sat adjacent, closer than many would with their companion. Their words were private, hence the need to erase any space.
“The entrance was designed well before our time,” Rafayel explained, eyes tracing his work. He applauded himself, impressed by his memory.
“So, when we approach-”
Rafayel moved his gaze from the paper to Caleb, confused as to why the human suddenly stopped. Caleb’s attention was on the doorway, his canine digging into his lip, causing his jaw to clench.
“Follow my lead,” Caleb’s words were rushed. That was the only warning Rafayel received before Caleb moved.
Yanked by his shirt collar, Rafayel found himself on his back over his blueprints. Ready to protest, he propped himself up on both elbows, but bewilderment sought control, rendering him speechless.
Caleb was on his knees before him, shuffling forward to force Rafayel’s apart. A metal hand braced next to his left elbow, locked in to create a sturdy foundation. The human’s body blocked the light cascading through the window, forcing Rafayel to stare at the man above him. Rafayel had always been a protector, but now he felt vulnerable, small, and secure. His hands laid limp at his hips, relaxed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Rafayel had intended his tone to convey offense. The hitch of his breath had destroyed his annoyance, pried from his grasp the moment Caleb cradled his chin.
“You talk too much,” Caleb mused, thumb trailing over Rafayel’s bottom lip. The merman quivered, a heavy breath pushing through his tight mouth. Caleb leaned in, nuzzling Rafayel with the tip of his nose. He dragged it up the tense sinew and muscle of the other male’s neck, parting to breathe on his ear. “Should I do something about that?”
“Oh my!” Mary gasped, hands coming to frame her own, plump cheeks.
“My apologies,” Caleb directed to their host, yet kept his eyes on Rafayel. An illusion was cast, deceiving Mary to think two lovers were slaves to one another, completely helpless to their chemistry, the air between them sweltering with lust. The human’s thumb idled back and forth of plush flesh, disforming Rafayel’s mouth with each push against his bottom lip. “We are usually more behaved than this.”
Caleb’s smirk was genuine, intrigued by the red that crawled up Rafayel’s neck. Instead of his cheeks, the merman’s ears were showered by a veil of crimson. His eyes were wide, mortified. His reaction teased Caleb, coaxed him to protect the male underneath him. The swirling of purple and blue within those embarrassed eyes was ethereal, made to be treasured by a select few. Possessive, Caleb needed to end the spectacle.
“We will be down shortly,” Caleb rotated to look over his shoulder. Mary was utterly entranced, mouth agape. Caleb reckoned she would require a glass of water if she didn’t close her lips soon.
Even so, what he had intended had succeeded. Their bodies buried the map, their scandalous display scattered their onlooker’s thoughts. Caleb trusted his intuition, and concluded Mary would never harbor ill intentions. However, knowledge tempted danger. He would not be the reason harm befell upon her.
Caleb chuckled. “I know, he’s very pretty.”
If dust layered the hallway floor, clouds would have sprouted at her heels. She couldn’t get away fast enough, her footsteps thundering down the steps.
The human sighed, eyes closing in relief. When he opened them, Rafayel poured into his senses, threatening to spill over and overwhelm him. It was almost comical, the fact Rafayel didn’t mutter a word. No witty remark materialized, neither did a puff of heated breath. His lips remained glued together, eyes blinking slowly as if processing.
An odd sensation rolled over Caleb. It was fascinating, watching Rafayel in this state. Desire to push and test his limits escalated within.
“You can get off me,” Rafayel broke through Caleb’s thoughts. A pout formed on his mouth the instant he finished his sentence.
It was adorable. Caleb couldn’t stop that thought in time. He wasn’t sure he wanted to stop it.
It didn’t take them long to get dressed for the day. That was after they folded the map neatly and shoved it underneath the mattress.
The duo had made the decision to help in the bakery, justifying it was one of the few ways they could repay Mary for what she had provided for them. Caleb had taken to the kitchen as if he had occupied one his entire life. Mary took him under her tutelage, gentle and patient.
Rafayel manned the front, greeting and serving customers. Mary revealed that ever since Rafayel became the face of the bakery, she had noted an influx of customers, mainly women.
Not that rolled up sleeves and slicked back hair had anything to do with it. Rafayel never flirted with patrons, loyal to his princess. Besides, he figured the royal would have been amused by his struggles. The customers never gave him a moment to rest, constantly vying for his attention. Man or woman, young or old, human or mythical, it never ended.
Caleb had mercy on him once before closing. The human came out to the main dining area, covered in flour and frosting, hair mussed as if he had rolled around in bed. One eyebrow was powdered white, slivers of brown stood out from beneath, and the corner of his mouth dabbed with pink frosting. He had been taste testing his products.
The women surrounding the table Rafayel currently attended sighed, eyes latching onto the man as he approached the merman.
“Ladies,” Caleb greeted, auditioning for the role of gentleman. He dipped his head slightly as if bowing, placing an arm over Rafayel’s shoulder. Crossing his calf over his opposite shin, his weight anchored to Rafayel. “I’m lucky I got to him first, otherwise, women as fair as you would have swept him away.”
Petite fingers touched feminine lips, the group covering their mouths in awe.
“As if,” Rafayel cooed, turning his head to observe Caleb. It placed them close, their noses barely touching. Rafayel lifted his hand, using the nail of his thumb to collect the frosting from the side of Caleb’s mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he sucked the acquired sugar between his lips. “No one is as sweet as you.”
Caleb heard the bottom of a tea cup clatter against a plate. He hoped it hadn’t broken, or he should have been culling shards of porcelain from skin. But Rafayel’s words had swarmed his mind, staking his presence within.
The human wouldn’t be beat. He took his free hand and walked his index and middle fingers lazily up Rafayel’s chest. Once Rafayel’s jaw was in his grip, he yanked him even closer. “Not here,” he pretended to scold, lowering his voice. Bashful, he fluttered his lashes and eyed the exposed muscles his fingers pleased. “Behave so you can have your taste, later.”
Rafayel had been tipped enough coins to buy everyone dinner that evening.
Caleb had thought their farce had been solidified past the point of no return. Even if they were to explain the situation, he was sure no one would believe them. It didn’t help when they sat side by side that night for dinner, across from Mary and her husband. Rafayel let his arm hang loose so he could curl fingers around the leg of Caleb’s chair and jerk him closer. The merman had continued to eat as if nothing had happened.
Before they all retired, Mary had pulled on Rafayel’s sleeve, stopping the pair. She winked, suppressing a giggle. It made her tone waver with joy, “just wanted to let you know our walls are thin.”
Rafayel’s response was a sudden choke, raspy against his throat as he began to cough.
“You’re surprised?” Caleb chided. “After all we have done?”
“Never again,” Rafayel had whispered when Mary was out of earshot.
Caleb snorted, “famous last words.”
Rafayel helped Caleb through their bedroom window, gripping his hand to keep him steady. Caleb struggled to get his leg over the ledge, but with some gentle coaxing from the other, he finally found himself outside.
They sat on the slanted roof, side by side. Rafayel refused to let Caleb go too far away, concerned about the human’s sense of balance with a head injury. Legs bent, Rafayel rested his forearms atop his knees, leaning forward. His fingers circled his opposite wrist, snagging a loose strand of fabric residing at the end of sleeve.
“We’re so small,” Caleb’s voice broke the natural ambience that came with the night - owls hooting, the nearby creek barreling against stones, and laughter from a joyous family a few houses down.
“Suit yourself,” Rafayel huffed once. “Some of us are well endowed.”
“I’m being serious!”
With a turn of his head, Rafayel consumed Caleb’s profile. He had his head tilted back far enough the ends of his hair interloped with the collar of his midnight jacket. Fascination swarmed through amethyst, and the dark pools of his pupils gleamed with flickers of small, white constellations.
The human was indeed being some sort of philosophical. Rafayel would play along.
“You mean in the grand scheme of things?” He inquired.
“I read there are mythical beings capable of traversing space and time itself.” Caleb’s tone embodied that of an excited kid, uncaring of who listened and who didn’t. Just to speak his curiosities gave them life.
As a jester, the temptation to tease ran rampant from Rafayel’s head to his toes, corrupting and eventually conquering his presentation. He had an eye-rolling response to every sentence. Master to his art, he was also aware there were times and places. This was not one of them.
“And you wish you could explore with them?” Rafayel kept his eyes on the presence next to him. Caleb adjusted, raising his artificial arm to scrutinize it. Realization dawned on the merman. “Or, that you had been merged with one.”
“This is the first time I’m free,” Caleb brushed past the accusation. “My freedom has inadvertently freed you, too.”
This felt like a goodbye.
Rafayel’s heart leapt to his throat, unable to escape, it crashed back down, bouncing off the walls of his chest.
“You can’t.”
Well, couldn’t he? Caleb was his own entity, and now nothing confined him to the princess or the Captain.
Relationships were foreign to Rafayel. His love for the princess was a straight path. From the start, he had seen the finish. With Caleb, there was a fork in the road. Teetering, it leaned in one direction or the other, hesitant to lead him in a direction that satisfied them both.
“As a disgraced prince, I have no claim on the princess.” Caleb explained what they both already knew. “I don’t stand in your way, anymore.”
“You never did.”
A second passed, then a few more. Silence accompanied the both of them. Caleb was patient, waiting for the other to continue his thought process. He hadn't yet obtained the tools required to decipher the merman, unlike the princess.
“You believe that we don’t need you? You truly think that?”
Caleb’s body ceased to exist. His limbs went numb, a cocktail of unknown emotions washed over him like a waterfall, frigid. It was overwhelming, the onslaught impossible for him to filter through and pluck a single emotion to process. It was too fast, too sudden.
Rafayel observed him, so meticulously he might as well have produced a notebook and scribbled notes. Caleb looked at him with bloated eyes, Caleb sucked in air, Caleb shuffled his body to point his attention at the merman. All of it, Rafayel saw it all.
It was time he told him the truth.
“At first, your betrothal to our princess was the perfect excuse.” Rafayel allowed his gaze to descend. A couple swung their hands between themselves, their smiles caught in the light of a lit lantern. “It was easy as a Knight to justify your relationship as protecting her, that I had a duty to uphold the Kingdom’s future, if it meant she had to marry you. Telling myself that meant I didn’t have to confront that I enjoy having you by our side.”
“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that,” Rafayel tensed, shoulders rising along with his hands. He waved his hands back and forth as if his words might have accidentally offended. They did not, but Caleb didn’t mention that, he took pleasure in watching the male flubber about like a fish out of water. The arrogance Rafayel naturally boasted did have its limits, although rare to witness.
“You just don’t know what to do with it.”
Rafayel shrugged, “I guess you could say that.”
Caleb ran a fingertip over the tile of the roof, scrubbing at it until his skin burned raw. Emotions and their accompanying experiences didn’t scare him. He welcomed them with open arms, squeezed, and let them soak into his skin, strengthening his resolve. It was verbalizing them, opening his arms back up to let them seep out, and be scrutinized by another that wasn’t him - that’s what scared him.
The human had spent the majority of his life alone. His subordinates tended to him, mythical beings fought by his side, but it was all surface level. He was no longer alone, his chest brimmed with heat, Rafayel’s presence overpowered, turning walls brittle.
Playfully, Caleb pressed his shoulder to Rafayel’s, bumping him hard enough purple hair rustled over the merman’s forehead.
“I think we love each other,” Caleb said.
The idea was like a stranger, peculiar, maybe a little unnerving to approach. The concept would take some time to understand, and love itself was never stagnant, always evolving.
In response, Rafayel hummed in consideration. No tales discussed such a thing. Love didn’t have to be romantic, either. What he felt for the man was complex, and most certainly powerful. Lemurians, after all, were possessive, unbelievably so.
Violet eyes slid to the human. That alone created something viral within, something greedy. He wanted to hoard supplies and provide, scour the ocean floor and collect trinkets, explore their intricacies side by side. Caleb’s observations would be heard, the Lemurian would catalogue each fluctuation of his voice, associate them with habits and emotions.
“I think we do, too. But not in the way . . .” Rafayel trailed off.
“Don’t want to kiss me senseless?”
They had come so far already that evening, Rafayel considered it. While he had participated in their recent ploy willingly, he had to wonder without the need to deceive, whether he would have reacted the same.
It didn’t scare him, nor make him uncomfortable. True to himself, whatever he felt he would experience in depth.
“I was joking,” Caleb backtracked, lightly. The look of contemplation within violet eyes was unexpected. Caleb, whether he realized it or not, had stopped breathing.
“Shame,” Rafayel mused, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to signal mirth.
“Probably is,” the human played. His eyes narrowed. When Rafayel stroked senses, it made Caleb soar with mischief. “I’m sure you’d be a good boy and kiss me real well.”
Suspicion had prompted such words. Sure enough, cheeks turned ruddy, and rings of lavender softened.
Similar to the merman, Caleb had been too preoccupied throughout his life to explore the more risque aspects. That did not mean he had a mind that didn’t travel on its own. Praise was a tool that could be utilized in such situations.
“Bastard,” Rafayel muttered.
Caleb chuckled, throwing an arm over Rafayel’s shoulders. “Yeah, but you love me.”
“I do,” the merman admitted, shoulders dropping to relax. He leaned against the warm body.
“So,” Rafayel let his voice fade, the word standing alone between them. “Does the arm vibrate or what? If it does, you might have to join us in -”
Caleb covered his mouth, amused by eyes darting to his hand. “I’m filing for a divorce.”
It was only a few days later that Rafayel awoke to an empty bed. He rolled, stretching a leg out, eating up the length of the mattress with his long limb. Burying his face into his pillow, he exhaled, deflating completely against the bed. His hand roamed aimlessly where Caleb usually laid, finding cool, rumpled sheets.
The human had been absent for the better part of the morning it had seemed.
Fingers captured his hand, leading the merman to turn his head enough to open his eyes, and land on Caleb’s grip.
“You ready?”
Vision focused, and a gentleman occupied his senses. Caleb looked as if he had been reborn, bright with life and energy. He was adorned with a fresh, loose, long sleeved shirt that tucked into his trousers. His trousers layered over the top of his boots where the fabric had been pushed in with firm fingers. At his thigh he had a gun holstered, encased within sleek, black leather.
“Went shopping, did you?” Rafayel pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His toes curled on the hardwood floor, arms rising above his head as he stretched. When he relaxed once more, he transferred all his attention to his companion.
“Mary went with me, yeah.” Caleb adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, twisting his wrist to fix the button there. “I told her we will be heading out.”
“I take it you’re feeling better, then.” Rafayel stood, reaching for the towel he had slung over the chair.
“Much,” Caleb confirmed, moving to begin packing their one bag.
Rafayel paused for a second before entering the washroom. He watched Caleb maneuver seamlessly, natural with his metal arm on display. The weight of it, not only physically, but also mentally, was no longer hampering the human. He seemed comfortable.
Something washed over his chest and nestled around his heart. He was genuinely happy for the human, eager to witness how he continued to grow.
“Stare at me any longer and I may just start charging you.” Caleb muttered.
With a quiet chuckle, Rafayel rushed to wash up. He emerged in his normal attire, dark as he was wrapped in his usual black and purple.
Together, they tidied up their room. A mix of sorrow and excitement swirled within them, birthing a bittersweet emotion. What they had created the last few weeks was similar to that of what many would consider a normal life. They worked, ate meals as a family, and shared a bed.
At night, they had fallen into a routine. There were even instances when Caleb would sit in the bath, his arms resting on the rim, while Rafayel scrubbed lightly at his scalp, kneeled behind him. Sometimes, before bed Caleb’s wound would thump with pain more so than earlier throughout the day, so intense his eyes would throb, and the world would spin.
All it had taken was one pathetic, desperate look of need, and Rafayel had connected the dots.
“Scrub a dub dub in the tub.” Rafayel had relentlessly begun to badger with each time he had to assist the human. If he was feeling particularly mischievous, he’d sing the words, over, and over, and over again.
While Caleb would glower and keep his mouth shut, refusing to entertain his companion, he had to admit to himself the merman was equipped with a methodical voice. He figured it had something to do with his heritage. It would only make sense, a merman as pretty as Rafayel would have a voice to match his image.
Recently, Caleb hadn't required support - one of the few signs he was nearing the completion of his recovery.
Either way, they had continued to get ready for bed together. Brushing teeth, washing faces, applying lotion, whatever they each wanted to do, it happened near or at the same time.
Caleb would miss the convenience of a routine. Having a pattern allowed for him to anticipate the end of the day. Now, they would be back on the road, fending for themselves.
Mary waited at the bottom of the stairs, a small bundle in her hand. Rafayel and Caleb stood adjacent to one another when they received her gift.
“I packed you enough food to last you a few days, hopefully.” She chuckled, lifting a finger to swipe at a tear. “You are growing boys afterall.”
Rafayel took a step forward the same time Caleb accepted the bundle. The merman pulled the woman into his arms, pressing relaxed lips to her greying hair. She smelled of the bakery, sweet and sugary, warm like the biscuits they’d dip into rich soup in the evening. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Caleb cupped her shoulder, squeezing enough to make her aware of his presence. “If we have the chance, we will visit again.”
Mary sniffled, retreating to make space. She smiled, tilting her chin up to look at them both. Her hands cupped their cheeks like she did when they first met - one hand on Rafayel, the other on Caleb.
“I’m sure you two will be busy.”
Rafayel shook his head lightly. “Not too busy to see our favorite baker.”
“No, you two can’t come back here,” Mary persisted. She was hiding something, the secret dancing within the shadows of her eyes.
Before Rafayel could question it, they heard a commotion a few stalls down. A mercenary, large in stature, held a piece of parchment in front of the store owner’s face. It swayed in the wind, wrinkled as if crumpled multiple times to be deposited in armor. Along the top edge, Rafayel spotted a tear as if it had been ripped off a board.
“Captain, you need to go!” Mary pushed on him gently, her voice a hiss, contrasting her actions.
Caught up on the slip of his title, his hand caught Mary’s, holding her to him. She nodded, realization dawning on the two in front of her.
“Go,” she said once more.
Caleb grabbed Rafayel by his shoulder, turning his back just as the mercenary rotated in their direction.
“After them!”
Neither had to look over the shoulder to know the mercenary wasn’t alone. While both were more than capable of subduing a few bounty hunters, there was no guarantee they could protect the people who had provided them asylum the last few weeks.
They disappeared into the woods, legs pumping, arms swinging. Sweat trickled down their faces, Rafayel hanging onto their bag slung over his back, Caleb’s fingers cramping around their gift from Mary.
Branches thwacked at their limbs, whistling past their ears. Highly trained in combat, roots and bushes didn’t pose a problem, the two nimble enough to avoid them.
Caleb distantly thought Rafayel was a swift runner for an individual who preferred a tail.
They broke through a clearing - their pursuers having given up a while ago. Caleb didn’t stop, however.
His breath was harsh, loud in the empty field. Tall grass reached his knees, his constant stride transforming into a frolic. In the distance he recognized rolling hills, miles and miles of clear land, a mixture of lakes, grass, and trees. The wind whipped and yanked his hair, and he spread his arms out, coming to a stop. Eyes closed, head tilted, and he absorbed the sun.
He was free.
No longer a prince, no longer a fraud, his life as an illusion had come to an end. He wiggled his artificial fingers, unable to detect the wind. It didn’t matter, it was his reality, no longer hidden by a layer of forged skin.
The power of his own sovereignty crashed into him, battering against his chest. He leaned back, and yelled, his voice dying out as he squeezed the last of his breath from his lungs. Years of pent up resentment was pilfered by the wind, gobbling it whole. It was gone.
Rafayel stood nearby, chest expanding to deflate rapidly. When Caleb turned his head to capture Rafayel in a stare, Rafayel caved.
Caleb was beautiful, flawed in the most perfect ways. He was smiling, cheeks streaked with the residue of tears. His eyes were marshy, red around the rims.
Amethyst complimented scarlet, stark in their contrast.
Rafayel dropped his bag to the ground, took a few steps, then quickened his pace. Caleb released their gift a second before catching his companion.
Rafayel enveloped him, the onslaught of affection forcing Caleb’s knees to weaken. They fell to the ground together, the slope of the field causing them to roll a few rotations. Caleb came out on top, but not in victory, merely due to luck.
Their weight imprinted within the tall grass, designs of compressed greens and whites revealing their taken path. Hands were spread next to strands of lush hair. Again, Caleb was unable to detect the texture of Rafayel’s hair lying across his ashen hand. But, it made a dangerous weapon appear soft.
Every breath that Rafayel took, Caleb felt it on the inside of his thighs. Their gazes locked, every miniscule movement was amplified. Unconsciously, Caleb matched his breathing to the male below him.
“Thank you,” Caleb whispered so gently, Rafayel had to read his lips to make sure he had heard correctly.
Rafayel accepted him wholeheartedly, unconditionally, and without any prior questions. Rafayel, a Lemurian, elegant and unparalleled, loved him - faulty and mundane.
Something overflowed from deep within, something sultry and pleasant. It dripped down his limbs, over his abdomen, down his legs and to his feet. His heart, consistently mellow, fluttered, increasing in tempo the more Rafayel lapped at his attention with an observant gaze.
He wanted to express such feelings, let the being beneath him know how much he appreciated him, how much he loved him. Words seemed inadequate, a simple touch he surmised would be lacking.
Caleb brought his eyes down to Rafayel’s mouth. The merman’s bottom lip was full, plump, and enticing. His top lip was slightly curved with a shallow cupid’s bow, center to the corners that usually elevated to convey amusement.
His gaze floated up, noticing the small birth mark on Rafayel’s nose, over his right nostril. He had another one below his right eye, high on his cheekbone.
Caleb reached up with his left hand, thumb stamping tenderly over the mark, to slide over the contour of delicate bone and end at an ear.
Lips parted slightly, tongue flicking once against the back of teeth in thought. The movement apprehended Caleb, breath suddenly thick, heart thunderous in his ears.
This was no act, there was no audience to appease and entertain.
Caleb leaned down, transferring his weight onto his elbow. His lifeless hand rested over Rafayel’s heart. Fearless, Rafayel cupped the metal with both of his palms, holding the material to his chest.
“You can’t feel it,” Rafayel whispered, pressing the platinum digits harder against his chest.
The human couldn’t, but he saw the bob of Rafayel’s throat, the thick vein running alongside his neck hammering rapidly.
Caleb moved closer, eyes searching Rafayel’s before dropping once more. When they darted back up, he felt frozen in time, trapped within swirling irises. Violet was overwhelmed, succumbing to a vibrant azure.
Rampant with emotion, overcome with elation, he dipped down.
His arms curled beneath Rafayel’s head, nose seeking solace at the crook of the younger’s neck. He nuzzled there as comforting arms crossed over his back.
“Shh,” Rafayel hushed, pressing the side of his head against Caleb’s. “I have you.”
He didn’t say any word after, experiencing Caleb’s grief, the stuttering of his chest as he hiccuped and whimpered. Tears dampened Rafayel’s neck, teeth clamped down on a bottom lip as hisses escaped the human’s mouth.
Rafayel’s fingers found Caleb’s brown hair, carding his digits so bunches of strands slid between them. His nails scratched the other’s scalp as his arm wrapped around the man’s waist squeezed tighter.
“Let it out,” Rafayel urged. He himself felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes, his deep breath hindered by Caleb’s weight.
“Caleb,” Rafayel’s voice cracked, his eyes clenching shut as he too nuzzled against the human.
The whimpers against his ears were prolonged, a guttural groan releasing to ease the tension across the human’s heart. Soon, he’d wail. Soon, his eyes would feel heavy, and pain would radiate across his forehead. He’d be warm, yet shivering. No matter what consequences would come, he’d be safe, cocooned within the embrace of another who vowed to never let go.
Rafayel grit his teeth, smiling slightly while tears traversed his temples, gathering within the dips of his ears. He hesitated, the next words escaping within a shaky breath.
“You’re free.”
They travelled at a steady pace the next few days.
Rafayel kept a protective eye on Caleb. The man continued to grow in confidence, yet was fragile at unexpected times.
As if they hadn’t of been close enough, their bond had strengthened further. Rafayel was always there to collect the pieces and restructure, a constant foundation to support Caleb at his lowest.
Rafayel found a specific comfort within the human’s presence. It differed from the princess’s. He now understood why the question he had presented during his disagreement with the woman held no value. It hadn’t of been fair, as Rafayel was realizing he wouldn’t be able to choose between the two, himself.
One night in front of the fire, the two laid side by side. Caleb made due with the base of a tree as a makeshift pillow, Rafayel used their pack.
The last of Mary’s rations had gone down their gullets for the night. They had saved the best for last - cherry cupcakes. The sweet treats gave the merman an initial sugar high, talking endlessly about whales, then he crashed hard, lying on his side facing Caleb.
Unable to sleep, Caleb held the map above his head, studying every entry and exit, staircase, hall, and room. A tug on his sleeve had him looking to his side, and Rafayel was pulling down on his left arm in his sleep, maneuvering to rest his cheek on Caleb’s shoulder. The edge of the large piece of parchment fluttered down to skim across Caleb’s face. With one arm available, he folded it the best he could, and shoved it back into their pack.
Rafayel’s hair tickled the edge of Caleb’s jaw, his soft puffs of air fanning across the human’s chest. He shifted, a leg hooking around Caleb’s, and an arm landing across his waist.
Caleb rolled just enough to bring Rafayel closer, resting his chin atop the male’s head.
When they awoke in each other’s embrace, neither startled, simply accepting their companionship.
Banter naturally flowed between them, jabbing each other with sarcastic teases. Caleb would usually push the other, earning him a mimicked shove. Rafayel’s attacks were all verbal, the purple flecks within a pool of violet rich with mirth.
Time was irrelevant, their dynamic a welcoming distraction from the truth.
As they neared the princess’s home, their chatter faded, and provoking ceased. Their time was spent planning, concocting a strategy where they remained united. There would be no splitting to cover more ground, they’d stay adjacent to one another.
The entrance to the castle Rafayel claimed only he and the princess knew about started a great distance away from the castle itself. It was a tunnel, one that was painted in black, void of a single flicker of light.
Fire emitted from Rafayel’s fingertips as he took the lead. The air was moist, putrid from the decaying environment.
“How did you two even find this place?” Caleb ventured to ask, a few steps behind Rafayel. He needed to talk, the darkness behind him fascinating nightmares.
“The princess never had much time to explore,” Rafayel explained, tranquil in his tone. Partly, he felt speaking too loud might make the walls around them shake. “And, when she did, she never wanted to do it alone.”
“I think we were in our young teens, if I am remembering correctly,” Rafayel continued when Caleb remained silent.
He painted the picture in his head. It had been a cold winter morning, his and the princess’s breaths plums of white in the air. Both were covered in thick cloaks, ugly at the ends where Rafayel had sliced and torn the fabric. They were stolen after all, swiped from the barracks where Rafayel’s superiors resided - superiors who were adults, much taller than the children who sought their possessions.
“We shouldn’t be out here,” the princess grumbled, but followed regardless. Whenever Rafayel invited her to do anything, she’d instantly nod, enthusiasm rupturing in her irises. Understanding her attraction was too difficult and tiresome, an entity she buried deep within, prioritizing everything related to her future reign. She had determined the pull to be near the young male was tied to that responsibility, the need to ensure the future Captain of the Guard never jeopardized his honor.
“What?” Rafayel shot over his shoulder. Both ignored the crack in his voice. Puberty was a double-edged sword. While his voice would occasionally lose its newfound bravado, it was a small price to pay for his recent growth. “Didn’t know the princess was such a scaredy-cat.”
“Says the one who is scared of actual cats.”
Rafayel stopped, boots sinking in the snow long enough to wet the tip of his toes. He grabbed the princess by the elbow, yanking her close. He lowered his voice, despite being alone. “Hey! You know I’m a-”
“Fishie, yes.” She broke free of his grasp, then with a huff, she lifted her nose and continued to walk.
She was truly infuriating. “No boy will catch feelings for a girl like you,” he stammered.
“Oh what a shame,” the princess sighed, sarcastic. “I see nothing wrong with living out the rest of my days with cats.”
Her response wasn’t one the Lemurian expected. The others around him were experimenting in life, locating others that tickled their fancies, kissing behind hanging linens, sneaking off to thieve flagons of ale. Rafayel would ignore their requests, either training, or escaping to worlds unknown he’d paint on secret canvases.
He had now confirmed the princess was the same, isolated and engrossed in more independent activities.
Or, whoever caught her eyes would have to be worthy of her enjoyment.
The other Knight candidates certainly were not. At night when Rafayel would lay in his bunk, he’d turn towards the wall, scratching doodles into the stone with the tip of his dagger. The others believed he was too idle to even listen, and would whisper to each other late into the early morning.
Their whispers were innocent, the majority of the time. Until recently when appetites were escalating, and raw desires were uncovered. The princess was a topic of conversation, her beauty and title beckoning to those unworthy.
Rafayel would roll his eyes, lips fashioning into a small grimace. He didn’t quite understand why they were so fixated on the physical and material. The princess’s beauty hadn't been dormant, she always had been lovely.
While the boys mentioned her curves and delicacies, he was obsessed with her smile and spunky demeanor. When she was upset cheeks would redden, and her bottom lip would jut out into a pout. In awe, her eyes would brighten and engulf him, suffocate his lungs, and startle his heart.
His artistic skills weren’t developed enough to capture his muse, to mimic the brilliant specks within her irises.
He had to guess the others simply wouldn’t understand.
As she walked in front of him, surrounded by contorted branches, weighed by ice, and supported by crisp, unblemished snow, he knew his words were spun by a grudge long held against anyone who beheld her.
She made him feel childish, out of control of his thoughts.
“Here,” he caught up to her, holding out his hand to help her descend to a frozen riverbed.
She eyed him suspiciously before accepting his gesture, allowing him to bear her weight. They explored together throughout the day, throwing snowballs at one another, attempting to balance on the frozen water.
It had been a perfect day until the first bark of a hunting hound resounded through the barren trees.
Rafayel watched the color drain from her face, the forming sphere of snow within her palms dropping to the ground.
Worried eyes landed on him, “they know we’re gone.”
He didn’t hesitate, reaching forward to push off her cloak, bundling it into a roll so he could chuck it over a nearby ledge. He did the same to his own, then grabbed her hand.
Instinct fortified to shape a protector. He knew if he looked at his reflection, tendrils of sapphire were interlacing with orbs of lilac. His body was gaining in strength as he grew, filling out and toning to provide him abilities to defend. While his mentors were weathered Knights, with his abilities as a Lemurian, he was confident he could stand a chance even in his current, younger state.
Rafayel navigated at random, venturing further away from the castle with each step. The risk of leaving their home was dismal, his conviction overshadowing that particular threat.
They hid beneath an overhang, catching their breaths. Shivering, they both rubbed at their sleeves, creating friction. Rafayel watched the princess’s teeth chatter, the tips of her fingers tinged with a color that reminded him of the salmon they consumed the night prior. He was more resilient to the cold, his body designed to handle freezing water within the depths of the ocean.
The need to move pushed Rafayel up, his hands using the support of the dirt behind him to help him stand. But something shifted, the wall of soil brittle from years of flowing water. Taking a chance, he clawed at the dirt, dragging sharp nails over pebbles and other small debris. Once his fingers had the ability to curl around nothing, he knew he found a tunnel.
He had drug the princess through the cavity, snapping to form a little flame.
Then they found the door he was currently standing in front of. Instead of a human girl, a human man now accompanied him.
“What an ass,” Caleb punched Rafayel in the upper arm lightly. “You were clearly jealous back then - telling our princess no one would fall for her.”
“Look,” Rafayel huffed, defensive. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Ever heard of communication?” Caleb pressed his hand to the door, backing his palm with a burst of gravity.
Rafayel didn’t answer, brushing past the other when the door opened just enough to slip through.
The hidden entryway was slim, only able to harbor one or two individuals at a time.
They both shimmied along the concealed walkway built within the walls. Their exit was behind a fireplace located in the relics room. No heat emanated from behind the stone, signaling it was safe to emerge after removing loose blocks.
Rafayel was tense with anxiety, Caleb could tell by his clenched fists, which meant a higher chance of error.
“Hey,” Caleb covered his fist with his hand. “You’re not the only one protecting her now.”
“She’s not the only one I wish to protect.”
Caleb wasn’t sure who broke eye contact first, but he knew he was the one who cleared their throat, hoping to dispel a tension he struggled to identify.
Grabbing the handle to a door that led to the main hall, Rafayel took a deep breath. He knew the guards’ schedules, knew which routes they would take.
He pulled, expecting to see clear halls.
The light, it was blinding and pure. So bright, Rafayel’s senses went blank, and he tried to cover his eyes with his forearm, but it was too late. Judging by Caleb’s groan, he was experiencing the same.
Something warped in the air, stretching like a band across the room. It snapped, and a presence could be felt, behind, in front, to both sides.
A smug huff could be heard, a blade sliding within its sheathe.
“This isn’t the front door,” the voice stated, obvious in its tone.
Rafayel’s mind raced. He’d never heard this person before, and he’d made it a habit of his to familiarize himself with each and every individual of the castle’s personnel.
And no one sounded as tender and saccharine as this one.
The guards held heavy hands around the upper arms of the human and merman, fingers thicker than branches, grip stronger than steel.
It would be a waste of energy to fight back at that very moment. Conservation of strength was the duo’s priority until they ascertained what the future threat might be.
Together, they unceremoniously walked through familiar halls. Windows lined the outer walls, arched at the top and splintered by a kaleidoscope of colors below. It wasn’t like a rainbow pixie threw barrels of its dust against the panes, either. The reflection of color was subtle, artistic in Rafayel’s humble opinion. The bleached hues contrasted subtly with the navy blue drapes, each lined with gold impressions. It bathed the halls in an elegance befitting of a crown to be respected.
As if such effects would influence Rafayel to kneel in front of his previous King. The only man he would bow to walked alongside him. Caleb would never ask such a thing, having the respect for him demonstrated by other means. Rafayel’s mouth twisted into a cruel smirk. The King would croak dead at his feet if he knew that when Caleb ruled, he wouldn’t have hesitated to kneel for his followers. That was afterall, how Royals should treat their subjects.
They rounded a corner, stepping down a flight of stairs until they met the wooden doors of the throne room.
If his knee didn’t press to hard stone, would that be his end? Rafayel pondered if it was worth it. Dramatics were his specialty, but this went far beyond that of a sensational presentation. Surrendering to a man such as the princess’s father meant accepting his conduct. Now that, even mockingly, didn’t earn his yield.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Caleb hissed when the doors opened. As the hinges creaked, Rafayel winked.
Gasps erupted from the crowd like a wave, starting at one end, concluding in the other. Refusing any type of acknowledgement, Rafayel kept his eyes down. Boots lined the side of his vision, mixed in with mature, inky shades of female footwear. Pairs were scattered, attendance rather sparse. There it was, a depraved sense of satisfaction in Rafayel’s gut. It seemed the King had lost some support while Rafayel had been absent. How quaint.
The guards halted them before the dais. Caleb raised his chin first, ready to spout vicious, calm retorts. Except words formed in his throat, traveled forward, and extinguished like a flame at the tip of his tongue. He coughed.
A hand moved, guards stepped to the side and away from their bounties.
Unable to comprehend what he was beholding, Caleb reached to his side, gripped Rafayel’s jaw, then lifted.
She was beautiful.
Seated atop her throne, his princess pinned Rafayel in place with a vivid gaze. Her presence alone commanded the room, planted in her chair lazily, one leg crossed over the other, leaned partially to favor her right side. She was fierce, yet quiet. She was a tempered spirit, docile and resilient until challenged. That’s when calm water turned to a vicious storm, drowning those she targeted.
His eyes slithered over curves and skin, over an assured silhouette.
The depraved things he wished to do while she sat there, while she commanded him. Desire fluttered low in his belly.
For the first time in generations of royalty, the princess wore a dress that concluded halfway down her thighs. Plump with layering of fabric, it was still agile and casual, easy for her to maneuver in. That must have been the intention, considering a glaive rested within a stand a few feet behind her. Legs were embellished in fabric that hugged her just above the knees, connecting to a base resembling the sole of a boot. Her corset complimented her cleavage, which was covered by a long sleeved halter top. The end of her sleeves connected to a thin loop of fabric that encased her middle finger.
As if all that alone didn’t characterize regality, the accompanying cloak certainly did. Her arms poked through at the slits near her shoulders, the top enmeshed with thick plumes of feathers.
It was a palette of reds, and black, embroidered with golds and whites, encompassing sophistication.
She was beautiful, and she wasn’t alone.
Standing next to her was a man, whom neither Caleb nor Rafayel recognized.
He was pristine, dressed in white from head to toe. His boots, pants, and jacket were as pure as snow, occasionally spruced with nuances of lavender, more specifically on his left lapel and the interior length of the coat cascading down the backs of his legs. A thick belt cinched his waist, two more bands wrapped his upper arms.
The gathering was no Masquerade Ball, yet the newcomer wore a mask. Silver enclosed around the shell of his right ear, complementing two dangling tassels.
Ash blonde hair tickled the man’s forehead, long enough to trace his ears. His eyes transported Rafayel to a warm, Spring day, when skies were a luminous blue. Every feature seen upon his face was gentle. Rafayel narrowed his eyes. Gentle was one way to put it, trained was another.
The princess’s echoing step stung him, radiating power and composure, piercing the room with her presence. It sucked the air out of the hall, blending color to blur, forcing her form to be the main focus.
His mouth went dry. Caleb’s swallow to his left was loud. He must have felt the same.
“Welcome home, Captain.”
The princess didn’t spare a second between her words and actions, pinching the edges of her cloak between painted nails, and spreading the fabric as she curtsied.
She held it, unmoving. He watched her lashes flicker as she blinked, gaze locked on his boots.
A noble to his left kneeled first, crossing his arm over his chest, creating a fist. “Welcome home,” the man mimicked.
The dam broke. One by one, those in attendance either kneeled or curtsied. No one lifted themselves, maintaining eye contact with either the floor or anything worth detailing upon it. Rafayel’s hands trembled slightly, just enough for him to mold his hands together at his lower back.
“Captain,” Caleb acknowledged, doing the same as everyone around him.
The last to lower himself was the man of unknown origin. Nothing within his stoic expression led to any clues. But that in itself told Rafayel the man had already known this was to happen. It had been discussed. It had been planned.
Rafayel needed to know what was transpiring, needed to know who was before him.
On instinct, he took a step forward.
The man placed himself between Rafayel and the princess. His blade lengthened an extended arm. The tip of it grazed Rafayel’s throat when he swallowed.
Rafayel encircled Caleb’s wrist with steady fingers, tugging him so the human had a living shield. Caleb accepted the gesture, splaying a hand across the merman’s lower back, offering his support. Discreetly, his hand hugged the grip of his gun.
The Captain raised his dagger, sliding his blade against his opponent's. The sound of metal scraping was crude, ringing through ears, drilling into teeth. Once Rafayel had his leverage point, he pushed.
The masked man didn’t budge, blue eyes cold and emotionless as they observed Rafayel.
Sweat trickled down the back of Rafayel’s neck, slipping down the dip of his spine, and finally expanding into the interior of his vest.
There was a slim chance this stranger was in possession of substantial power, a master of abilities unknown and potentially greater than Rafayel’s. The Captain wouldn’t know until he truly went head to head with the man. Who would win, he wasn’t sure. What was irrefutable however, was everyone within the vicinity was at risk of perishing should they all collide.
The princess placed a hand over the man’s shoulder. He looked over at her, then nodded, taking a step back and sheathing his sword. He bowed as if apologizing.
“Okay. Excuse my lack of formality but,” Rafayel huffed, twirling his dagger a few times before extinguishing it.
“Just who the hell is this guy?”
Chapter 9: May I Have This Dance?
Summary:
“I once asked if you would be good for the both of us.” Rafayel repeated those words full of filthy promise. Back then, all three toyed with the idea of individual exploration and competition. This time, the princess’s admirers were allies. “I was teasing at that time. But, it seems it just might be true.”
Notes:
If you all haven't figured out you're princess yet....please do quickly, this one's for you. If you don't want to be princess, that's cool too.
So originally the chapter was to be a lot longer, but I split it into two because we would be pushing close to 80 pages. So yes, an explanation of what happened and other things will be included in the next chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
His gaze barreled through the crowd, wrapping her in a sweet glaze, trailing and curling around every inch it could reach. He was assessing, confirming, then taunting, presenting glimpses of a sinful vow.
Oh how he played. That gaze of his spun stories of adventure and forbidden trysts. Some he took the role as the hero, the others, he was a villain, a captor - anyone who commanded temptation. She felt compelled to participate in them all.
Then there was his companion, someone who balanced him and felicitated traits.
That man leaned in the far corner of the throne room, one of the pillars supported his back between his shoulder blades. His hands were shoved at the crooks of his elbows, a barrier, shielding any part of him that might attract a suitor.
He watched her too, amethysts rich with an array of seductive shades. Reflected within was an epic battle, raging until there was a final stand, the siege of his precious fortress.
The last wall might crumble, and he’d surrender.
What treasure it might reveal made the princess distract herself with conversation. She knew that whatever was hidden within that man’s mind required careful consideration.
That opportunity didn’t last long.
“May I have this dance, Pip?”
The princess spun on her heel, unable to mask her smile in time. Lips stretched, cheeks rose, and eyes were soft with delight.
His heart tripped. Palms were suddenly damp, fingers curling to form a fist then release. His emotions were a tempest, destroying his order and disrupting his stability.
The momentum of such a turbulent wave had him bowing, a hand covering his heart as he lowered. His other outstretched, unsteady in the space between them.
Reassurance spread from the tips of her fingers, radiating across his palm. “It’d be my honor, Caleb.”
They met, his hand manipulating hers while he molded his other to her lower back.
Chest to chest, she had no choice. The constellation of freckles splattered against his skin stole her attention. Traveling up, she noted the thickness of his brows, brown hair blanketing his forehead to dip down like branches of a willow tree.
Caleb smiled, the corner of his mouth hampered by hesitation. Their dance was for more than a physical formula. Like burning incense, they entwined and swayed, smooth and calm. Their resolve withered down, collapsing to disperse into dust, forever gone.
Swirls of amber and emerald framed his eyes, courtesy of a paint brush steered by practiced fingers. A knowledgeable mind chose the correct color palette to compliment magenta orbs.
The process had been languid and intimate. So sultry in nature, the princess had begun to question what had happened between the two males while they had been separated.
This banquet was no ordinary event, unique with the requirement of painted faces. It was an attempt to raise morale, ship consciousness off to a realm of fantasy. Both the mundane and mythic attended, draped in exotic fabrics, facial features plastered with mixed formations of pigments.
Temptation was a shroud atop the room. Small, transparent red panels had been positioned around the flames which lit the hall. Crimson bled along every surface it could touch, swallowing the atmosphere in a magnetic glow.
The princess didn’t aim to promote debauchery. She wished for her guests to fall in love with themselves, to meander confidently across floors, and experiment with character.
“You look absolutely dashing this evening,” the princess complimented her partner. It wasn’t small talk, she was genuine. Out of all the guests in attendance, only two stood out in her eyes.
“As much as I hate to admit it, I suppose I have Rafayel to thank for that.”
It was true. The princess had walked in on them earlier. Within the Captain’s chambers, Caleb sat comfortable in a chair. Rafayel had been bent over him, a palette balanced on one hand. The outer edge of his pinky was placed on Caleb’s cheek bone.
Bristles fanned out slowly against skin, the wet slide of paint audible in the quiet room. Neither spoke, Caleb’s eyes moved to trace Rafayel’s features. Rafayel focused solely on the colors sticking to flesh.
It was effortless - identifying the expression upon Caleb’s face. Afterall, the princess knew she made the same one each time she laid eyes on the merman.
“You’re next, cutie.” Rafayel never faltered, movements untroubled by her interruption. He was at ease, natural in his habitat. “Also, please Caleb, don’t move.”
Caleb, excited to see the princess, couldn’t hide his grin. Removing the smile from his lips was artificial, obviously forced. She vaguely thought his sudden obedience towards the Captain was endearing.
“Your beauty has simply been appreciated,” she whispered, stepping forward to replace where his boot had just been. Their rhythm was flawless, communication seamless. “Whether Rafayel helped or not, you would have still been dashing.”
“Thank you,” Caleb acknowledged her praise. The blush that tinted his cheeks was mellow, gorgeous in relation to the twilight dye embedded in the fabric of his formal wear.
While mellow, the dust of pink upon pastel skin was easily spotted by Lemurian eyes.
He observed the two of them as they twirled. He wasn’t necessarily on duty, but habit led him to patrol along the windows and entrances. Even so, ushered by curiosity, his gaze would return to the couple.
Rafayel yearned for them to dance as one entity - all three of them.
Yet, there was a particular power in being the spectator. Like a sentinel, he stood on guard, informed of all developments, protector of any outside disturbances. And the ones he loved trusted him with such a position.
So he stood, hand on a hip as his body adopted a lazy stance. With one hip cocked, one leg bore more weight. The long tail of his jacket rocked gently with the movement.
“I don’t quite understand,” someone said to his side, impartial in their tone. “Are you not her lover?”
“Xavier,” Rafayel addressed. “Good evening to you, too.”
Neither looked at one another. Xavier perched next to the mythical being, expression neutral. Though, Rafayel noticed the lethargic posture the other held out of the corner of his eye. The stranger would slump then suddenly straighten, only to begin to lean forward once more.
Purposefully, the Captain pushed forward, ignoring Xavier’s query. “Tired?”
“A little,” Xavier responded as if completely forgetting why he approached the merman in the first place. Just a few seconds later, he stifled a yawn.
Rafayel had yet to decipher whether it was an act or not. An enigma, the Captain had spent the last few nights striving to solve the riddle that was this newcomer.
All three of them had yet to find an opportunity to sit down and discuss their time apart. In the meantime, Rafayel had felt obligated to entrust the stranger due to the fact the princess accepted him.
“Do you . . . need to rest?” Rafayel hadn’t felt this awkward in a long while. “I think we have it handled here.”
“Really?” Xavier perked up, although it was rather subtle. Rafayel was quickly learning the infamous Lumiere was subdued - voice faint and discreet. “I will go then.”
And that was that. Rafayel remained where he stood, frozen. There had to be something the princess could see - something neither himself or Caleb could identify.
He found the pair once more.
‘Are you not her lover?’ Reverberated through his mind. Xavier had been right, Rafayel was the princess’s lover, there was no denying that.
Eyes flitted over to other men and mythical males. One slimy intention from any of them towards the princess would generate unpleasant anger beneath skin.
Rafayel contemplated other males, as well, surveying unique characteristics that many would call exquisite. Nothing disturbed his neutrality.
Unlike the man who danced with their princess.
Caleb held the princess with tender hands, eyes illuminating his fondness.
But aside from that, Rafayel distinguished what made the human appealing in his own eyes. Caleb’s compassion, loyalty, and teasing behavior enticed the merman to interact with the man almost constantly.
Rafayel’s eyes loved to pursue Caleb’s form, his physical attributes a topic of intrigue and admiration to the merman. He liked the way the human’s jaw clenched - just the way his entire body moved.
He was shamelessly attracted, maybe hopelessly in love.
The princess ended the dance with a curtsy, and Caleb bowed in return. It was poetic, their faces resembling humans experiencing lovely emotions for the first time. The Lemurian was honored to witness it, but he wanted to assist, and take part in those moments.
Caleb withdrew to the corner, seeking a drink.
Rafayel took the chance to dive in, finding himself at the princess's side. He aided in her interactions with guests, smearing a smile across his face in order to appease. The right thing as a Captain would be to dutifully listen, pick up on nuggets of crucial information.
He had no desire for that this particular evening.
Discreetly, he orchestrated it so that who they spoke to led them in the direction of the main table. It was empty except for a few chairs reserved for royalty and those approved by the princess. Placed in the back of the room, it was purposely located to provide privacy for her, a moment’s respite from the constant socializing.
With the red hues within the room already, one would have to step real close to see the finer details.
It started off subtle - a fleeting touch along the inside of the wrist, the adjustment of a rogue strand of hair along her temple - all things considered proper in a sea of elegance.
Then when they had sat, he had moved his chair by an inch closer to hers during the process of sitting. The chatter from the guests concealed the scrape of wood along the stone.
“What are you doing?” The princess whispered, maintaining her official facade.
“Hmm, me?” Rafayel played, the tips of his nails skimming over the inside of her thigh. “I’m bullying you, Princess.”
With his free hand, he plucked a grape from its stem, lifting to curl his tongue around the juicy orb. It popped, bursting across his palette as he chewed. He reached for another; the fingers below, which tantalized soft skin, idled patiently.
Possessive, his palm was warm, fingers spread to nearly touch the crease between her leg and seat. His thumb brushed back and forth in rhythm with his heart, just enough to keep her weary of his presence.
“And what have I done to constitute your bullying?” The princess mused. A goblet of wine occupied her hand, the object of her attention as she swirled the crimson content within.
She missed this - his teasing.
“List is too long, cutie.” He quipped, twirling a butter knife along his fingers, similarly to when he held his dagger. It stopped, pointed in the direction of a bowl of shrimp. They curled over the edge, tails dangling, tops diving into a delectable sauce. “Should we start with their complaints?”
The princess paused, registering his words. Then, she snorted. “Sometimes I forget you can talk with sea creatures.”
Rafayel hummed, a smirk beginning to form. “What else might have you forgotten?”
As she thought, eyebrows wrinkling in confusion, he reached across her, this time encapsulating an orange wedge. He used his hand upon her thigh to support him, body twisting to face her. He brought the piece to her lips, watching her mouth part. “Try this, Your Highness.”
She sucked it into her mouth, enjoying the tart contrast. Liquid escaped past her lips, slithering towards her chin. It was stopped by a tender swipe, and Rafayel groaned, cleaning his thumb with the flat of his tongue.
“I think you forgot a few things,” he whispered. “The feel of my mouth on yours. My taste. The sting of my bite on your lip.”
Those very lips were licked, the princess clearing the sticky substance. His taste, mixed with candied tones, beckoned to her.
Rafayel brought his mouth to her ear, with the pretense of a shared secret. “Maybe . . . my hand between your legs,” his whisper soaked into her very being, tugging on her core.
Fingers trailed over her shoulders, rubbing once over the back of her neck, before weight nestled in the open chair to her side. Eyes flicked to Rafayel, before scouting down, noticing the lump beneath royal skirts.
“How scandalous,” the guest purred. “One glance this way, that’s all it would take to catch our princess in quite the . . . improper position.”
Respect for the other urged Rafayel to move his hand, but it was caught. Caleb’s hand was sweltering atop Rafayel’s, sizzling through the fabric. His grip was firm, determined.
“Unless . . .” Caleb mirrored Rafayel, inclining to press lips to her ear. “That thought excites you, Princess.”
A gasp rushed down her throat, quiet enough to flitter through the air unnoticed. Caleb inspected her profile, eyes sharp. The blush that creeped over her cheeks was disarming, fracturing his seductive allure like broken glass.
She was just too precious.
“Ah,” Caleb tutted, tongue quick behind teeth. “What a naughty girl.”
“We knew that already, didn’t we?” Rafayel kept his voice low.
The groan that emanated from the man’s chest clung to the two in front of him, sinking deep within their skin. He was oblivious to his capabilities, the seduction that radiated from every move he made. The timber of his groan combined with a look of anguish tormenting his facial features called to his companions.
Both wanted to alleviate his pain, whatever it might be.
Caleb’s hands glided to Rafayel’s wrist, the fabric between their skin wrinkling at the human’s grip. “Did I say you could stop?”
Violet irises latched to amethysts. Mischief churned within both, communication silent. “I never started,” Rafayel responded.
A canine appeared from beneath a lifted lip. Caleb, high on his impending elation, smiled. His forehead pressed to the princess’s temple, his inhale loud between them. “Does he tease you, Princess? Work you up then leave you wet and begging? How cruel.”
The princess had thought Rafayel was explicit in his way of speech. That alone had bombarded her composure. But not only was Caleb direct, his voice curved around each syllable. The cadence in which he spoke alternated perfectly, incapable of being mimicked.
“Should we fix that, Pip?”
Rafayel felt compelled, biting his lower lip when the hand above his applied slight pressure. With a gentle nudge, the tips of his fingers coasted against the thin fabric of undergarments. A leg jerked, the princess shifting to welcome him. Instinct drove her. It was obvious in the way her eyes dropped, roaming the hands upon her thigh.
“So greedy,” Rafayel skimmed his nose over the line of her jaw. When his lips found her ear once more, the tip of his tongue traced the shell. “I like it.”
“Ignore his hand, Princess, keep your eyes on me.” Caleb leaned back enough to capture her gaze. She felt it, her heart slamming against her chest, adrenaline strangling her throat. His eyes were a vortex cultivating sin. “That’s it.”
“Rude,” Rafayel pouted. The nail of his index finger snuck beneath the band at the groove of her upper thigh. The heat emanating siphoned at his reign. “But I understand your preference, sweetheart.”
The merman sensed the tensing of Caleb’s hand.
“Suprised?” Rafayel was relentless. He was boldly juggling his attention between the two. “I’m not blind.”
Rafayel’s admission wasn’t what startled the man. It was his ability to verbally confirm attraction, especially in front of the princess. It was one thing for the both of them to entice in tandem, it was another to play with one another.
The princess struggled to breathe. Their interactions confirmed her suspicions. Of all emotions to channel along her chest, relief was the most prominent.
That was swiped away, lungs emptying quickly. A finger roamed below, over the fabric that covered her core.
“I once asked if you would be good for the both of us.” Rafayel repeated those words full of filthy promise. Back then, all three toyed with the idea of individual exploration and competition. This time, the princess’s admirers were allies. “I was teasing at that time. But, it seems it just might be true.”
“Is that okay with you, Pip?” Caleb’s lips flexed against her ear. “Please, use your words, I need to hear you say it.”
“Look how desperate you make him,” Rafayel’s voice was rough, just as hungry as the man he was provoking. “That’s all you, Princess.”
“Not exactly,” Caleb denied.
They were getting carried away, swept up in something beyond their control. Her permission wouldn’t allow for just carnal inspection, it would alter their entire dynamic.
Drunk off their impulses, none were sober enough to lead such crucial decisions.
In an attempt to pacify them, her hand rose to burrow into Caleb’s hair. Her fingers bent to draw dull nails over his scalp. Amethysts were cloaked by eyelids, and his temple came to rest on her shoulder. There, his head turned to the left, then to the right slowly, nuzzling. His accompanying groan was content.
“Such a cute puppy,” Rafayel mused.
Too pleased to glare, Caleb simply opened his eyes to target the merman.
“Woof.”
“Okay,” the princess gently shoved them both away. They would have continued to both goad each other until it became painfully obvious what was transpiring. “Time for you two to leave.”
Caleb stole a grape for himself, tossing it once before eating it. He kissed the princess on the top of her head before taking interest in a group of Knights. He walked rather merrily, nearly prancing.
Rafayel pushed his chair in, hands gripping the wood along the backrest. He leaned over the top of it, grabbing a strawberry. Loitering in that position, his mouth roamed near the princess’s ear one last time.
“Don’t think I’m done with you yet, my love.”
Her steps were measured, upholding the guise of a ruling monarch. Hands crossed pleasantly over her waist, she held her chin high, a faux interest directing her eyes over the lit torches framing the pathway.
The first step that echoed behind her was crisp, the sole of a boot clapping once against dusty cobblestone.
An increase in pace was logical, but she remained true to her own rhythm. The ends of her skirts swept around her heels, crinkling the smooth layer of silence the night maintained.
There was no rush, despite not walking side by side, they paraded beneath the same stars, along the same path. The weight rolling down her spine was born from a resolute gaze, protective and cunning. She felt beautiful through him, unabashed in her thoughts and actions.
It led her to take an unprecedented turn, approaching the large hedge maze her ancestors had designed. Giddy, she skipped, stepping on individual stones within the pathway. In her imagination she could only step on certain ones, creating a game out of nothing, until she stood in front of the entrance.
She spun, giggling when Rafayel froze. He was mid-reach, weight transferred to his most forefront leg, hands level with her waist.
“Not so fast,” she teased.
He hummed, rising to rest in his usual stance. Her eyes trailed down over his form. He noticed, accentuating the features he wished to boast. She was surprised he was able to narrow down his choices to a simple few.
“And just what do you think you’re doing, Captain?”
“Putting my hands on you,” he was blunt, “finishing what I started.”
“Cute,” the princess smiled. Beneath the skirts of her dress, the toe of her heel drug down the back of her calf, pushing at her heel as she lifted. One foot slipped from its refined prison. The other followed discreetly.
“Not cute,” Rafayel took a step forward, the princess took one back. “Possessive. Hungry. In love.”
His desire, imminent before her, tangled and knotted low in her core. The way he looked, the way he talked, and the way he stalked forward - all of it - washed over her violently.
“Hungry?” She stalled, taking yet another step back. Her heels tumbled over at the hem of her skirts, snagging one another. It brought dark eyes down, curiosity etching itself into playful features.
“Absolutely famished,” he drawled. “Daring to be my prey tonight, Princess? I love a good hunt.”
Fear - no, excitement - muddled her eyes. It was a quick spark, a flash of intrigue that bolted between charming flecks. If he wasn’t so observant of the recipient of his desires, he’d surely have missed it.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Think you can outrun me?”
“The only thing I can do is try.”
He jutted his chin in the direction of the path into the maze. “Three.”
“Two,” she continued, reminding them of their childhood. This was how it always began.
She was already a few hedgerows down when he finally whispered.
“One.”
She rounded a corner minutes later, spinning to wander backwards. The stone was brisk against the bottoms of her feet, the fabric of her thigh-highs too fine to protect against the elements. It was invigorating, forcing her steps to be light, quiet as she fled her pursuer.
Rafayel wasn’t far behind. He walked, calm in his stalking. When he pivoted around the corner, and happened upon the same path as the princess, he smirked. He licked his lips, arms rising so his hand could tug on the cuff of his sleeve. Leisurely, he unhooked his cuff-link.
“Surely this isn’t the best you can do,” he droned. He simulated annoyance, working on his other cuff. Both of them continued to walk, one forward, the other back. “I remember when we were kids and we’d race, you’d always win.”
The princess groaned, not slowing in the slightest. “I believe you let me win.”
“Maybe.”
“Just like you are now.”
His lips twitched. “Do you truly want to play, Princess?”
“Do you truly want to win, Captain?”
“Depends,” his pace increased. “What’s my prize?”
Something within her had been revised. He could see it clearly in the way she held herself. He loved her before, but now, it was devastating. Her newfound confidence, the boldness lingering beneath her skin, was conspicuous.
“Me,” she answered, plain and simple.
Finally, she understood she was worthy of his attention - his worship - of him working for it. And he would show her exactly what ran wild through his imagination.
This predatory sensation was new.
A rosy blush corrupted his neck, escalating to taint his ears and cheeks. Scales laid bare his inclinations, stripping away his ability to conceal improper intentions. An azure shade glazed lilac in a single pass before he reclaimed control.
She had watched him obstruct his own necessities for years, required to uphold the virtue associated with the title of Captain of the Guard. Every step in her direction throughout their life summoned distress and hindered development.
Their games of tag, even the races down castle halls - he never was allowed to openly play. Before his fingers could even skate down hers and grab, he’d have to pull back.
Why walk towards her, when he could now run?
“Raf, show me how bad you want it,” the princess smiled, eyes softening to welcome him as a whole. “Come get me.”
His responding expression was pure, jaw slack and eyes wide in awe. It vanished in a heartbeat, a fierce leer commandeering his lips.
“Fuck,” his fingers plowed through his hair, the words rolling off lips dangerously. “Princess, run.”
The princess had just enough time to stick her tongue out in a final taunt before hands were grasping the front of her skirts to lift, allowing free movement of her legs. She turned on her next breath, and took off.
Rafayel’s heart hammered hard against his pectoral, so hard he feared his whole body might get knocked over. Adrenaline streamed through him, the current of its thrill sweeping him away. He knew the moment when he had her in his clutches, his mouth would capture hers.
It was that promise that made the game so exhilarating.
Her giggles echoed into the sky, climbing over the tops of the hedges and swarming his senses. He could picture her perfectly in his mind’s eye, skirts bouncing with each stride, shoulders rocking back and forth, eyes glittering with delight.
She was heavenly. She was ravishing. And she was his.
He took a few steps, increasing his speed until he was jogging then eventually running.
The princess could make out the strikes of soles in the distance, the tempo revealing to her that he was hurtling down pathways. Her breath suddenly felt too loud, the tight fabric against her skin too stifling. She had to slap a hand over her mouth to prevent her giggling from being audible when she heard his hesitation, most likely encountering a fork in the maze. Left or right, he would have to make a decision.
She continued on, unaware where the next turns would take her. She had no time to think, having to rely solely on instinct. Rafayel was closing in on her, the brush of his arm against a branch or his grunt of frustration from tripping over an upturned piece of stone, alerted her. He wasn’t sloppy like that, uncoordinated, or stiff.
And he was the one calling Caleb desperate earlier.
She smirked, what a hypocrite.
Her final turn revealed to her a large, square garden. Miniature pathways lined the open grounds, allowing the viewer to get closer to individual plants and flowers. Stone benches were randomly scattered and statues had their own designated spots. The last time she had toured this area of the castle was many years ago.
Rafayel had examined the area just a few days before, insistent on being familiar with every foot of the grounds. It wouldn’t be long for him to figure out she had nowhere else to hide.
She darted behind a statue, pressing her back to the stone. It was useless she already knew, but it would buy her some time.
Rafayel entered only minutes after.
“Come out, come out wherever you are, my love.” When there was no reply, he snickered. “I have a big smooch waiting just for you.”
A chirp of a giggle resounded across the garden, emitting from behind the statue.
He was trained in the art of pursuit, carrying attributes linked to those of a full-fledged Knight. Not once did he think he’d use such rapacious skills in relation to his princess, but it sure made it easy to silently approach her location.
She stepped out first, face flushed, chest heaving with gleeful breaths.
His hand clasped behind her neck, the force of his mouth tilting her head back. The edge of his tongue slid along hers, retreating for the tip to trace wet lips. Then, he was invading once more, breaths harsh and slipping out wherever they found the slightest opening.
Her fingers trailed up the back of his neck, hiding beneath his hair, teasing the skin there before wrapping around the roots of his locks. Pleasure mixed with pain, radiating along his scalp, branching down his spine. Her reward was a moan, low and seductive, heavy between their lips.
She had missed the tenor of his voice, the resulting curl in between unsteady legs. Locked in her memories, the princess had replayed his words like a record over and over again, desperate to connect with any piece of him she had. Over that short period of separation, the bravado of his tone had faded, slipping away to make way for more pressing matters.
She needed this. She wanted it. And by the gods, she deserved it.
As did he.
The laugh that escaped her startled them both, but not enough to disrupt their cadence. She felt his responding smile, his teeth pressing to her stretched upper lip. A puff of sudden breath hit her tongue, his exhale rapid as he too laughed. She cupped his cheeks, rising on toes to press a kiss to his front teeth, not caring she missed. It made her laugh harder.
Elation swam through her veins, blending to strengthen the foundation of her very being. It pumped through her heart, spread down her stomach, wrapped around her legs and weakened them. She swore in that very moment she could float.
Rafayel snaked one arm around her lower back, supporting her. He understood, felt the warmth just as much as she did, if not more. He peppered her face with puckered lips, using the hand still situated on the nape of her neck to tilt her first to the left, then to the right. Just to have her in his arms, real and alive, stoked the embers in the fire they had cultivated as desire.
When he found her mouth once more, flexing his tongue inside, her hands left his face. Her middle fingers submerged beneath his collar first, then her ring, and eventually index fingers. She dipped in far enough the fabric covered her wrists, using that leverage to pull his jacket from his body, aiding it to slide and compile at the crook of his elbows. It hung loosely on his frame, the cool air assaulted his back.
Her fingers then curled at the collar of his shirt, fingernails resting atop his collarbones. Ready to split the fabric open, she halted, a wicked twist of his tongue tempting hers into his mouth. There, lips trapped and sucked.
“Not so fast, My Lady.” He whispered against a dilated mouth. “You’re going to force me into a compromising position.”
One eyebrow arched, wrinkling her forehead.
He hummed, a smirk puppeteering the side of his mouth. “I mean, do as you please, rip my clothes to shreds, but when the Knights standing guard gaze upon my naked form, do enlighten them properly, cutie.” His voice then raised an octave or two, mimicking his princess. “I just couldn’t help myself, he was too handsome, I just needed to ravage him on the spot.”
She kissed him before he could utter another word, prying at the seam of his mouth to let her in. He accepted her, simultaneously shaking his arms by his sides to let his coat drop. His hands came back up, long fingers caressing beneath her ears while his thumbs rested on firm cheekbones.
The princess tasted of promise, bold and comfortable. He’d never tire of this delicacy. Anyone who questioned their love never once divulged in such a connection.
He felt her tug at the hem of his shirt, gripping the fabric as if she held a hatred towards it. The fabric fell loose, fluttering around his waist. Fingers drifted over his waistband, left, then returned to touch his stomach. The muscles there contracted, her palms pressing flat on each side of his navel.
The skin there felt molten against her hands. She feathered over his abdomen, curious how strong muscle felt pliable. Intrigue hooked around her wrists and baited her hands to explore further. The expanse of his chest, she mapped dutifully. One finger unintentionally sailed over a swollen peak.
He hissed.
She did it again.
“Sensitive,” he mumbled, releasing her mouth.
“Sorry,” was her response, but she didn’t mean it. He could discipline her later if he desired.
When her eyelids lifted to fill her senses, she licked her lips.
Half-lidded eyes revealed two crescents filled to the brim with iridescent blue. That color threatened to overflow, spill, and drown his gaze in something heady. His pupils could barely combat the shining azure.
She reached to brush bangs away, holding his stare. She swallowed, trying to distract herself from the ache he was gradually building. He stole her breath, eyes flickering down to her mouth, predatory in his satisfaction. His finger touched her bottom lip, smudging the wetness there across flesh as if applying a gloss.
Heat, hidden down below, intensified.
Rafayel leaned down, feinting another kiss. He tricked her, curving to kiss beneath her jaw. She arched, rising on her feet to help him reach. Methodically, he found the laces criss-crossing down her spine, the thin and long defense against his greedy eyes.
He untied the top knot, canines embedding along the slope of her neck. His finger slipped beneath one line of lace, the pad of his index finding the delicate skin expanded between shoulder blades. He held it there.
Suspense, he had found, was such an underutilized component of foreplay.
Lips cascaded down the line of her throat, tongue dragging briefly through the dip between collarbones. With his hand splayed on her upper back, he pulled her as his mouth pushed. Soon, his mouth was on her sternum, the hair atop his head tickling her chin.
Her gasps were a melody he conducted. Rafayel wanted to direct her through a crescendo then ultimately a climax, entertaining her audience of one. He knew she was biting her lip above him, scared to express herself unrestrained. Endearing, that she believed she could keep that pretty voice of hers quiet forever. He was merely just beginning.
He rose, lips encasing the curve of her chin, before standing fully. Lifting her hand above her head, he spun her as if dancing, stealing her back so she faced away. Both hands plucked at the lace. If he wasn’t obligated to return her to the castle in a decent state, the blade of his dagger would have sliced through the taught lines, leaving a mess of fabric littered across the ground for Knights to speculate.
Let them stew in their imagination, he thought.
The back of her dress peeled away, loosening like an exoskeleton, shedding from soft skin. He took a step forward, aligning his front to her back. Long fingers pushed the sleeves down, chasing the fabric till he reached her wrists. The dress landed at their feet. When he followed the path back up her arms, his nails scraped lightly over bare skin, reaching the straps of her chemise. Goosebumps bloomed in his wake.
They both knew the instant he stepped back, his eyes would drop.
Her heart pounded in anticipation, her throat felt parched. Rafayel held her there. They had all the time in the world. This was between them and the galaxies above.
The princess hadn't thought much when adorning a sheer chemise. With the knowledge Rafayel was attending that evening, she felt emboldened, wearing it for herself above all else. She had no intention of showing him. She had no reservations, either.
She reached back over her shoulder finding the chords of his neck. Scales were spread across skin like seashells in the sand - their orientation random, the sensations opposite to one another.
Many months ago in the tavern where they reunited, that night she was allowed to explore the caverns of his knowledge, she had asked about his scales. They were sensitive to the touch. He had mentioned at times it was overstimulating, and he wasn’t sure he wanted her to press harder or let off. It depended, he expressed, on the location.
Lemurians didn’t allow just anyone to touch their scales. They were selective, bestowing that responsibility to someone they trusted unconditionally. It was intimate, invaluable, and dignified. The beauty of those scales were shards of his soul exposed.
“You were the first one to touch them,” he had revealed that night, snuggled close to her. She laid on his arm, stroking lazily over the bumps of periwinkle that accented his skin.
He hadn't needed to say anything else.
Then, she had seen his tail weeks ago - him in his most native state. He hadn’t of hidden, he had embraced his vulnerability, handsome and free of any restraint.
She would do the same.
“Won’t you look at me?” She finally asked, turning. Their foreheads pressed, eyes meeting hers. They didn’t stray.
“Would you like me to?” His voice was velvet, similar to the rose petals surrounding them, tone so light dust wouldn’t move.
“Please.”
He tilted his chin, pressing his lips to her forehead.
She stepped back, exiting the halo of fabric. He stayed, releasing her.
The urge to cross her arms and cover sensitive portions of her body was excruciatingly enticing. She focused on him, matching her breathing to his, watching his eyes drink her in and travel the length of her body.
They lingered where she expected. Although not completely transparent, she knew the fabric was sheer enough the dark peaks of her breasts were visible. He outlined them with his eyes, cataloguing and experiencing. She was the first human woman he had seen before. Then, they fell even lower.
Lace hugged her hips, black. It webbed out, silken as if produced by an elegant spider. Cloth attached the design, there at her core, hiding slick, tender flesh.
Matching stockings hugged her legs, contoured to shapely bends and bumps. Lace circled her thighs, attached to black nylon that slithered down her legs to cup her feet.
Dare he venture he didn’t want them off. Rafayel was a connoisseur of fabric and fashion, privy to what felt like a lover across skin and what did not. These stockings of hers, he’d like to experiment with. Whether they be bracketed over his hips, over his shoulders, or under the arch of his palm. Maybe in his periphery as he devoured her.
The princess’s chemise gave the illusion of a veil. Representative of the transition between something held close, only known by the owner itself, to something shared, given. He wanted to lift it, find every crease and freckle, worship and service. That need blanketed his being, wrapped him up tight, and taunted sweaty, breathless exertions.
The princess saw the shift. Pupils dilated, nearly consuming the ethereal shade of sapphire. He was imagining things again, encountering multiple versions of the two of them, entangled. It was untamed, visceral, summoning more scales to embellish themselves in the skin beneath his eyes.
The silence stretched thin, her heart thumped loudly in her ear, blood rushing in powerful waves. “Raf,” it was weak - a croak. The dry skin within rasped against her voice.
Snapping back to the present, his jaw clenched. He erased the distance between them, tilting then ducking to capture her bottom lip. He held her there, pulling away slow enough she unconsciously followed.
“Collecting every shell in the deep sea, scouting every pearl - none of it would be enough to present to you.”
The tenor of his voice was foreign. The husk of his baritone filled the void his natural, impish lilt could not. He was confident, a ruler of his intentions.
“You could have just said you found me pretty,” the princess teased, anxious with such explicit praise.
Rafayel snorted. “You’re far more than that.”
He grabbed the back of her thighs, hoisting her up. A few calculated steps and he was sitting on the stone bench, her knees landing next to his hips. With a shuffling of boots, he spread his legs, widening her stance over him, forcing the hem of her shift to ride up to her backside. The insides of her thighs clenched against the outside of his.
“Nuh uh,” he chided, “keep those legs spread for me.”
She whimpered, arms resting over his shoulders. He’d touched her there before, but now she was exposed. Naively, she had assumed he had forgone such provocative words for the evening, as well. The combination would be her undoing.
In a flash of fuchsia, his dagger appeared. An expert with the extension, he flipped it, sharp point directed toward his forearm. At her hip, he slipped it down the top of her waist, separating lace from skin.
The steel was ice against her fervor.
“I hope you aren’t too attached to these, Princess,” he mused, rotating the biting trim of the blade outward, and pulled.
With no tension, the fabric bundled to one side, sliding down the opposite thigh.
The princess gaped, “Rafayel!”
“Dock it out of my pay, or just punish me for it later,” he bit out, rising slightly to find her mouth at the same time knuckles climbed the inside of her thigh. “I know which method I would prefer.”
She swallowed his words, her own fingers coiling around his wrist, cajoling his hand towards where she needed him the most.
They broke apart, noses touching. Breaths mingled, humid and sticky.
“Need me to say it this time, Captain?”
He smiled, the corner of his mouth giving way to laugh lines. “I did that more for you, last time,” he purred. Fingers brushed over damp skin, idling back and forth, tantalizing. It seemed their game of chase had already worked her up. “Now, you know what to expect.”
Even so, she still gasped as he sunk in, both hands scrabbling at fabric over his shoulders. He heard his top button tear free, then plunk to the ground, striking the cobblestone a few times before falling flat.
He’d have to remember to pick that up later.
The heat constricting his finger awakened something primal, and he groaned, lifting his hips just enough to alleviate some of his pressure. Not once had he pursued his own relief, guarded over what had been preserved. His hand was dismal in comparison to their shared moments, the savory string of tension strung tight strained, inches from snapping. He didn’t want it to fracture too early, not after everything they had assembled.
The lines of their bodies melded, slotting together so intimately desire herself blushed. How he wished he had his brush, a blank canvas, and time. To capture it, her profile, spine arched with a hand buried at the apex of her thighs, was something he would immortalize in the future.
A desperate whimper sliced through the air, her hands twisting more of his shirt. When another button broke loose, Rafayel captured the princess’s eager mouth again, silencing her next sound with the weaving of tongues. She was asking for more, hips rotating to sink further down. With the addition of another digit, the heat of his mouth welcomed her guttural moan.
Arousal accumulated and beaded, sliding down to coat the palm of his hand.
“You’re dripping,” he ground out, voice low.
His ribs rattled with each punch of his heart, the world nearly tipping on its axis.
The princess’s hips were uncoordinated, lurching harder, some dips softer compared to the previous. An arm slung around the back of his neck, her other hand pushing the collar of his loose shirt over and off. Too many buttons were still hooked in place, preventing leeway of fabric. All she could accomplish was one side to drape over a shoulder. It was enough, lips tasted the skin there.
Her teeth embedded deep, her moans vibrated against his skin.
“What do you need?” He was shameless, tongue sketching slippery lines across her neck. “Tell me what you like.”
Repetition, he worried, might lead to boredom. His fingers caressed similarly to when he had her pinned against the tree. He wanted to try new things, new angles, new positions, he never wanted to be stagnant - forever curious. But this was all he could do at the moment.
Little did he know, none of that mattered.
Her arms crossed behind his neck, suffocating him against her chest. Her fingers curled in his hair once more, pulling on sensitive roots. Hips stuttered, and her breaths against his forehead were irregular.
“You,” her one word was broken, desperate. Similar to a whine, her voice took a tone beyond her control. “I just need you.”
It forced him to look up and encounter spilled tears. Not tears of pain, nor tears of heartache. She was overwhelmed, victim to her emotions and new sensations.
His tongue trailed over the salty path clinging to a cheek.
“Then have me.”
He inserted another finger, thrusting so deep the heel of his hand wedged up against her, provoking a fitful grind.
Her forehead pressed to his, noses touching, top lips bumping with each breath. The princess’s mouth opened with a loud gasp, his mirroring hers, prepared for a kiss. Their proximity in itself spurred on her release.
“Raf,” she warned as her right hand slid down his face, aided by plastered sweat. It was so hot between them, she considered it almost unbearable. Perspiration decorated the dip of her spine, her thighs shaking from exertion. She was a mess before him, utterly left in shambles.
Like before, rouge spilled down her neck to scamper along her chest, splashing along her shoulders to leave small spots of crimson. He’d never tire of witnessing her release, how she would throw her head back and moan. This time, he hadn’t of needed to shield her mouth.
He could finally hear her.
She rebounded quickly, already reaching for his clothes.
“If you want it, you can have it,” Rafayel whispered, nose drifting over her cheek, along the ledge of her jaw, then eventually to her neck. He was nearly out of breath, touching solely in order to stall. He needed to regain control of his thoughts, hands shaking, heart causing the vein in his neck to thump rapidly.
The princess found her footing, body lethargic and spent. “I want it,” she confirmed. She knew she didn’t need to say anything, but voicing it, brought it to life, made it real.
Rafayel leaned back, his palms cupping the rounded edge of the bench. It accentuated the muscles that designed his chest, his shirt split down the middle, uneven. The space between his knees was wide, one leg bent, the other straight, framing the prominence of his lust.
She wanted to touch, and taste, then feel it deep within.
“There you go again,” he breathed, chuckling. One hand ran through his strands, pinning his bangs to the top, layering to construct a more proper likeness. “Looking at me like you’re begging me to fuck you.”
Something shot through her at his words. It was heady and thick, smothering her entire being.
“You like that, do you?” He stood, fingers immediately tinkering with the buckle of his belt. He pulled the leather strap through, extending it back to free it from the buckle’s prong. His hips swayed with each step, the princess’s gaze hungry to see him finish undressing. He wouldn’t though, not yet.
His hand rose once he stood in front of her, imprisoning her neck in his grasp. His thumb pressed on her chin, opening her mouth so his tongue could sweep inside, tangling to render her speechless. As he worked her mouth, deft hands tugged his belt from his pants. The glide of leather against fabric ignited their nerves, the buckle jangling against the ground doused unwelcome jitters.
“I’ve had wicked, wicked thoughts, Your Highness,” Rafayel confessed against her lips.
“I told you once before I’m glad your words don’t stop,” she bit the tip of his tongue, scolding.
Finally, he pushed the button of his trousers through the incision in his waistband, the princess already pinching the tab of his zipper. Her appetite was contagious, charging the air between them.
“I want you to touch me, explore me, feel the weight of me,” he assured. “I’m yours to do with what you please.”
Her fingers pinpointed the base of his throat where she simply touched, feeling the warmth of him, the veins and sinew that gave him the ability to live. His next swallow was felt by her index, both of them silent.
Nails trudged lightly down his chest, hooking on the low V of his unfurled shirt. She pulled down just to be naughty, tugging to assert false control, completing the identity with a sly smirk. He fell forward just enough to play the game, chuckling as his canine pricked her bottom lip.
Once more, it was their push and pull. Bodies fluid with one another, easily able to adapt and mold.
Her thumb pushed on the closest button, then the next one down, repeating the act until his shirt divided completely.
The princess explored the delicate skin beneath his belly button, discovering the ridges of raised veins. Her innocent inspection decimated his patience.
Rafayel’s hands shot out, clutching the hem of her slipover that had remained circling her waist. He bunched the fabric in his fist, rotating his wrists once for the material to cage his hands for leverage. He yanked her towards him, her feet stumbling at the motion.
“Please,” he implored.
Her fingers lightly tracked a prominent vein down, but not close enough. “What was that, Captain?”
“Please, I swear Princess -”
His words fused into a passionate moan, his eyes snapping shut when he felt her hand wrap around him.
“Hmm?” The princess taunted in an attempt to cover her inexperience.
“Just like that,” he encouraged.
He was fiery satin, searing into the palm of her hand. Her movements were clumsy, a little timid, even more so when he groaned. But what strength she felt, feasting her eyes on his gritted teeth.
With each caress she became increasingly insecure, fearful she needed to do something more. Twist her wrist, squeeze at a certain point, maybe use her other hand - questions such as those polluted to corrode her confidence.
“Here,” Rafayel released her chemise to bring one hand to cover hers. “It’s okay, let me show you.”
“A little harder,” he directed, applying pressure over her fingers. His hiss startled her, yet with it came a darker shade of red upon his upper chest, extra scales littering his abdomen.
Rafayel hadn’t experienced a release in so long, he knew his pleasure would meet him fast.
His accompanying instruction gave her a false sense of fumbling - mishandling the situation. He read it in the shape of her lips, how they turned down in thought.
“Hey,” he tilted her chin up with his free hand, halting their movements below. “It feels good, Princess. Anything you do I’ll like, it’s just your touch alone that drives me crazy.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she was flustered. In the reservoir of her mind, where she kept her reveries locked away, this had been much more seductive. She’d have him unable to talk, let alone think, just as he did to her.
“You won’t,” he reassured, “just listen and watch me.”
“So responsive,” she mused aloud.
“Only for you,” he kissed the tip of her nose, reestablishing their rhythm. With each stroke, her knuckles skimmed his stomach, little wisps of contact strong enough to cause small contractions of his muscles. “Take your time, discover what I like.”
Soon, he was releasing her, both of his hands cupping her jaw to steal a kiss. There she swallowed his sounds, the heat of his breath rolling along her tongue. His hips would occasionally buck, body incapable of remaining still.
Her curious mind could now fill in the blanks of what it would be like when he sank into her, how he might move, how his muscles might behave.
That thought urged her on, grip now tight and assertive. Her pace increased until he was helpless, unable to kiss, only able to breathe against her. Wordless, their eyes met.
His body seized, spasms ruling his hips. A long groan was followed by hushed whimpers.
A male’s pleasure was disarming. It had been rapid, and she had wondered briefly if he was experiencing something akin to pain. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, breath wet, coating her skin in a sticky condensation. But his moans, so delicious, were prominent, near her ear to be consumed. It was addictive. She wanted to hold him, scorching and drenched, whenever she was given the chance.
She loved it - his reliance on her to keep him steady.
Rafayel nuzzled against her, body melting against his will. His breath didn’t want to be caught and grated between the two of them. Embarrassment wasn’t an emotion he could identify, but he was certainly bashful, pressing a soft kiss to the princess’s collarbone.
“I,” he kissed her collarbone one more time.
“Love you,” her neck was his next victim.
Then finally her mouth, “so much.”
“Not that it’s a competition,” the princess bonked her forehead to his. “But I think I love you more.”
“I love you enough to admit defeat,” he whispered, “for tonight, at least.”
From there, he fixed his trousers, zipping up in one smooth glide, then replacing his button in its rightful place. His shirt wasn’t his priority as he bent to grab the princess’s dress.
She stepped through, gripping his shoulders for balance before he rose. Once she stood at her full height, he rounded her, quickly tying the lace in the back. His lips found the back of her neck as he bound the top of her dress into a delicate bow.
“Wish I could crawl into bed with you, hold you all night, let you know how good that was.”
The princess smiled to herself, lifting her arms slightly away from her body so he could hug her from behind. His chin dug into her shoulder, but it only served to ground her.
“You can,” she responded and brought her hand up to flick his forehead. “Whomever I bring to my room is no one’s business.
“Oh ho,” he chuckled, “lead the way.”
After tidying up, they made sure not to forget her heels at the entrance to the maze.
It was when they were walking the hall to her room that Rafayel smirked. The princess was walking in front of him, bare beneath her skirts. Only he knew that. Blood rushed, pants tightened, and he had to readjust.
They were done exploring for the night, he knew that.
He ran his hand down his chest in thought, reminiscing on their activities in the garden.
He paused.
“Gods, I must be a goldfish.”
“What?” The princess twirled. She looked at him, confusion interlacing into her expression.
“I forgot it.”
“Forgot what?”
He pulled on his shirt, demonstrating how loose it was.
“The button, the damn button.”
For the first time in his career as a Captain, Rafayel was favorable towards an official meeting. One might have noticed the light skip in his step if they looked close enough. Because this assembly was to be led by the princess, not the former King. He would be a witness to her newfound prestige - the potential he always knew she had.
Matter of fact, he would take a front row seat.
He sat proudly to her right, so close the saccharine scent of her flooded his senses.
“War shouldn't be a theme within our discussions,” the princess stated, brows furrowed in confusion. She truly couldn't comprehend why those with authority craved violence. “Instead of offense, defense should be our main concern.”
Rafayel hadn’t spoken with her prior to this meeting, but he had already assumed this was the route she would venture down. With unified forces - abundant individuals both mundane and mythical - their Kingdom would have the advantage if conquering realms was the goal.
“My Lady,” a noble stood, a potential sponsor. “Your reign is still fresh, but I highly encourage you to consider international affairs, not just domestic.”
“Defense is international, My Lord,” the princess replied, calm. Her lack of emotion only served to unnerve all attendees who sat at the roundtable. “Notice my Court is small with few who support unification. My father’s absence has yet to be explained, my rule in itself unsanctioned, only recognized within these walls.”
It was falling into place, the missing pieces Rafayel had yet to obtain. The few interactions he had with the Castle’s Knights didn’t provide any leads, either. All he knew was those who remained agreed with the princess’s sentiment, and were not opposed to working with mythic beings.
That, and they had relayed a warm welcome upon his return.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t plan on establishing a military.”
Some of the stakeholders attending side-eyed one another, hesitation evident within irises.
“What good will an army do if you have no plans to use it?”
It was the same noble who asked about international affairs. Rafayel knew every single individual who was present in the room - as it was the duty of a Captain of the Guard.
He had extensively read through this man’s report the night prior, seated at his desk as a candle burned. Oscar was a middle-aged human man, the head of a family who aided the previous Kings. His wealth was solely gained through heritage, supplied by a trading company his ancestor founded.
And judging by his recent exploits, if hadn’t of been gifted such riches, he would have never ascended to be so prominent in the first place. Why the princess kept him within her Court, Rafayel didn’t understand.
He wasn’t sure whether she needed him to be the silent supporter, or the challenger, voicing his opinions, even his oppositions.
He would gladly play either role.
“I will be no puppet, Oscar,” the princess rose, back straightening as she refused to surrender. “My decisions have been thought out, they’re not whims.”
A quiet knock interrupted everyone’s thoughts, the main door opening for a familiar face to poke through.
“It’s time,” Xavier informed the princess, maintaining eye contact with her alone.
The princess smiled. “Then, let me introduce you all to our Colonel.”
Rafayel had to tilt his chin down and eye his fingers as they played with one another. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to suppress his chuckle in time.
Caleb was a man full of surprises.
His stride was arrogant, head held high.
The room was his domain. With every step, the thump of his boots punctured the air. The tug of leather at his wrist as he adjusted his gloves captivated eyes, the maneuver a display of authority.
“Colonel,” Rafayel crossed his legs, his gaze scanning from top to bottom.
“Captain,” Caleb returned.
The man took a seat next to the Lemurian. Together, they appeared invincible. And they both served the princess.
That testament did not go unnoticed in the room.
“I will protect our home from afar, neutralizing any threat before it reaches the castle gates.” Caleb explained his role, not a single emotion fluttering across his face. Any reaction from him would reveal a crack in his armor in which he knew his opponents wouldn’t delay in swarming.
This time, a female spoke up. “What credentials does he have to hold such a high position?”
Rafayel scoffed, “his credentials? How about he ran an entire rebel operation as a faux Prince all while each one of you land dwellers had servants fanning your faces.”
Under the table, Caleb reached to squeeze Rafayel’s knee. It didn’t stop the Lemurian.
“The amount of time and effort it takes to organize such a feat is more than enough to demonstrate he is capable.” Rafayel folded his arms and shrugged. “Just saying.”
“I will be active in the field for a bit.” Caleb continued as if nothing had happened. Rafayel’s appeal seemed to have quieted the masses. “In the time I am gone, I can assure you no danger will reach here. My job is to not only keep you safe, but our people, as well. Mythical beings and human allies will be at risk with this change. I will protect them.”
No one said anything, neither confirming or denying what he swore. Whether that was because his guarantee was so resolute, or because a devoted Lemurian backed him, would remain unknown.
The only way for Caleb to prove himself to the court would be to produce results.
The meeting came to an end with much left unsaid. When everyone shuffled out, only the three of them stayed behind.
Rafayel had his backside propped up on the edge of the roundtable, dagger arcing back and forth between both hands as he repeatedly tossed it. He was idle, listening in on the two who stood a few feet before him. The princess and Caleb stood facing one another, discussing the future.
Their voices provided an ambience he could rest in, swaddled in their comfort. He truly loved them both.
Especially their princess’s turmoil in relation to Caleb’s latest wardrobe change.
“Stare any harder and you’re going to burn holes into the poor man,” Rafayel commented.
The glare he received was worth it.
“You like it?” Caleb inspected himself.
Like wasn’t the word the princess would have used.
Immoral. Wicked. Unholy.
That type of vocabulary felt more fitting. Raven leather against skin, tight and polished, accented all his masculine features. It gave the illusion of something rough and raw.
Her mouth watered.
“It fits you,” was all she could muster.
“It fits him?” Rafayel paused his motions to watch the two of them. “Sweetheart, he looks absolutely ravishing.”
While Rafayel’s tone was light, insinuating a joke, he couldn’t stand how many eyes watched the Colonel as of late. They slithered and violated, collecting resources to fuel fantasies.
Rafayel despised it, and he wasn’t aware he had been clenching his jaw until it heard a subtle click.
“We have something for you,” the princess stole both of their attention, retrieving a black velvet box from a pocket hidden in her dress. “I think it will complete the outfit.”
Caleb took it into his palms with care.
Within the small box laid a necklace, the chain long enough it would rest upon Caleb’s sternum. The main piece was made of metal, shaped into a rectangle with rounded edges at the top and bottom. A miniature apple with a red ruby centered in it hung at the top, a charm to compliment the tag. Engraved on the larger component were words written in elegant handwriting.
“When you come back,” Caleb read aloud.
“Because you will always come back to us, no matter how far you must go,” the princess took the box from his covered hands. He ducked as she spread the chain apart.
It slipped over his head, only getting caught on the backs of his ears briefly before she finished escorting the metal to land on his neck.
“Promise?” Rafayel asked.
Without the context Caleb, cocked his head to the side, inquiring.
“That you will come back to us,” the Captain exasperated. “Promise?”
Caleb stood fully, reaching for both of their hands, “Promise.”
“Relax more, Pip.”
The princess exhaled, controlled. Her arm ached, the pain radiating along her arm the longer she left it extended.
“Remember,” hands slid over her shoulders from behind, holding her steady. The man’s lips hovered a few inches from her ear. “You’re in control. When you want to stop, we stop.”
Shivers wracked her spine, but she held still, embarrassed to reveal his effect. His words, although innocent, gave way to suggestive ideas.
The way Caleb held himself was assured, stoic in his stance, and adamant with his decisions. Indecisive thoughts never hindered him.
Coiling low in her belly was a sinful curiosity. If her hands were to wrap around his wrists, pin them above his head, and dictate his next move, would he surrender? What emotion would emerge through magenta flecks?
“Pip,” Caleb prompted.
Her vision focused, honing in on the target across the field, finger tracing along the curve of the trigger. Caleb had mentioned that morning at breakfast he wanted the princess capable of using his weapon. And that was how she found herself a few hours later, standing in the middle of a large field a couple miles outside of town.
Rafayel had tagged along after his morning patrol of the castle, greeting his subordinates, and confirming schedules. He remained quiet on the sidelines, a small journal in his hand, charcoal in the other. The merman sat in the grass, legs crossed, tongue peeking out between lips as he sketched. Occasionally, his eyes would flick over to the two.
“Just like that,” Caleb encouraged, moving his hand to shadow hers. “Gentle, don’t let it startle you.”
His index finger snaked over hers, and guided her to squeeze.
Gunpowder ignited just as the weapon recoiled, and hay from the target fluttered to the ground. Birds retreated from their posts upon tree branches, squawking to warn others. As the beat of their wings subsided, the princess lowered her arm.
“Wow,” she said in awe, allowing Caleb to retrieve his gun and holster it at his thigh.
“Nice shot, Princess.”
The princess followed the other human to their target, where he explained why the bullet had landed slightly to the left of her intended mark. She listened, nodding with each snippet of new information.
“Want to try again?” Caleb inquired. The princess lit up in response, hands interlacing behind her back. She spun and took off in the direction where they originally stood.
Caleb latched onto the sway of her hips, the bounce of her hair with each step. The pads of his fingers itched to slip through her strands, and tug. One gasp was all he needed to infiltrate and ravage.
A dark gaze watched him, a smug smirk on display below. Rafayel reacted as if he was cognizant of the human’s desires, as if he himself sat in the front row, curtains drawn to witness fantasies. The Lemurian itched to relay his raving reviews, his critique was positive, greedy for an encore.
Such temptation came alive on paper, where the lines and shades of charcoal replicated the scene before him.
Within his art stood a man and woman. The man favored her left side, hard against a woman so soft. She leaned against him, muscle and bones built to support and protect. Encased in the leather of his outfit, he seemed stable, rooted to the ground beneath him.
Before, he always acknowledged they fit each other well. He had no intention of retracting such a statement, either.
To the right of the woman upon his canvas was an outline, a silhouette of himself. The contours of his likeness had not been added. Hesitation stilled his hand - admission a dangerous, slippery slope.
The three of them - together. He wasn’t sure he was ready to dare intermingle with the possibility in front of the two who occupied those spaces.
“What are you drawing?”
Rafayel looked up, senses identifying Caleb, the human kneeling in front of him. The notebook snapped shut in the merman’s lap so violently, a burst of air ruffled purple locks.
“Nothing,” Rafayel mumbled.
Caleb was a sly human, master of deception. His naive eyes and lack of words coaxed forward an expression of innocence. Rafayel knew better, simply from the subtle tug of the corner of his mouth.
“I said nothing.” The Captain repeated.
“And I didn’t say anything,” Caleb challenged.
“No, but you-”
“But I what?” His words were drawn out, heavy, and commanding.
Rafayel couldn’t find his footing, his foundation crumbling from the onslaught. Teasing responses were jumbled at his throat, a blend of words that were incapable of forming something coherent. Speechless, the man always had that effect on him.
Caleb chuckled. His eyes dropped to the ground briefly as he struggled to regain composure.
“Handsome and adorable,” Caleb whispered.
The human transitioned to lean onto his hands, bracing himself in the grass at Rafayel’s hips. It forced Rafayel to lean back onto his elbows, discarding his notebook and charcoal along the way.
Ethereal eyes gravitated to the dangling necklace that swung between them. It glimmered in the sunlight. Rafayel could see the smudges along the once unblemished metal. He had caught Caleb rubbing it with his fingers while deep in thought.
Mesmerized, he grabbed it with his own.
One rotation of his index and the thin chain spiraled around his digit. He met eyes with the one above him, and tugged.
Foreheads bonked, their bangs meshing to cushion the thud. Caleb caught himself when weight transferred, transitioning to rest his hands near Rafayel’s elbows. The male beneath him laughed softly, amused by his achievement. His breath fanned sensitive lips.
“Think you always have the upper hand?” Rafayel asked.
“Think?” Caleb shifted slightly, his nose brushing against the other’s. “Baby, I know I do.”
Rafayel’s cheeks inflated with air. His brows furrowed, skin stretching across his forehead. Caleb felt it.
“Don’t hide it from me - what you want.”
Caleb’s words were an outstretched hand of a savior. The complex emotions Rafayel had felt for days, if not weeks, maybe even months, settled in an instant. It just might have been the calm before the storm.
One miniscule movement forward was all it took for Caleb’s eyes to widen. Rafayel had tilted his head just enough for their mouths to be a finger-width apart. He was baiting him with a kiss, their dangerous game suddenly palpable, alive with a mind of its own.
“I think you know what I want,” Rafayel testified through a whisper. “And similar to our princess, I think you like to tease.”
The man above him pressed forward a little more, and Rafayel dropped back. Now, Rafayel was flat on the ground, the human’s hands near his head. This wasn’t the first time they’ve been in a compromising position - their encounter in the field during their escape was still fresh in his memory.
“I wouldn’t call this teasing,” Caleb leaned over him, enclosing him in his security. “I think this is just our way of flirting.”
Rafayel’s heart spluttered almost to a complete stop. Caleb’s hair hung down, swaying in the breeze. Behind him, the Lemurian counted the clouds passing by. After he passed ten, he focused back on the man. Those lips of his were parted perfectly, relaxed and pliable, seeking Rafayel’s to mold against them.
“Come join us,” Caleb invited, purposefully changing the subject and snapping the tension. He didn’t want their first true experience to be a rushed game. “I’ll teach you how to shoot.”
Caleb rose, helping the Lemurian back into a seated position. Grass had weaved through Rafayel’s periwinkle locks, creating a natural, lop-sided wreath. The human didn’t hesitate to use his metal hand to pluck the green blades from his companion’s hair.
“I’m good, thank you,” Rafayel declined. He had seen how he wanted to finish his drawing. His fingertips prickled, eager to guide charcoal. “We have to make sure you still have something you’re the best at. I won’t take that away from you.”
“Always having to be the best, huh,” Caleb scoffed, but a smile tweaked at the corner of his mouth.
Then the Colonel was gone, returning to the princess’s side. The princess had been watching, a wink the only indication she approved of their exchange.
Rafayel realized he hadn't thought of the princess once during his interaction with Caleb. Subconsciously, he had already determined the man wouldn’t have left their princess at any risk for danger.
She was, now that he thought about it, holding a gun the entire time.
As usual, he listened to the two of them converse. It aided his concentration as his hand moved, sketching and gliding. He would angle his wrist to fill every crevice of blank space, jaw tense as he visualized.
That once empty silhouette now housed his resemblance. The replica of himself stared at their princess, enclosing the side that once was originally empty, Caleb still defending the other. Their princess was encompassed - the center of their attention.
However, buried within the small intricacies of their figures, Rafayel’s hand rested on the shoulder of the man, fingers clasping to hold him close.
He wouldn’t let him go.
Caleb’s impending departure ravaged her mind like an entitled thief.
Hands of the clock ticked, isolating frustration. Time was wasted on indecision. She was lost, aimlessly wandering the cavern of her emotions.
Rafayel snuggled closer in his sleep. His breathing was steady, a metronome to her adrift heart. Like a beacon, he set her back on track. Eyes closed, and she exhaled.
He was more than enough. His presence engulfed every inch of her being, overwhelmed it, even. As he was fire, her future would never surrender to darkness, and she’d never crack in the coldness of ice.
Fire licked, however, it unfurled and consumed. When fueled by passion, it spread - might even destroy. Beneath the rubble of devastation was rebirth.
It was Caleb, structure and discipline. He complimented them just as they did him.
“Princess,” Rafayel mumbled, voice groggy. He shifted to rest his cheek on her chest, maneuvering his arm to lay over her waist. His thumb rubbed back and forth beneath her ribs.
When she didn’t answer, he tilted his chin up just as she tilted hers down. They held eye contact. The princess was scared to voice her truth. No one had been brave enough to say it, revealing what they all had been thinking.
“I miss him,” was all she said.
“I miss him, too.” Rafayel agreed. His eyes were clear, free of any judgement. “Should we get him in here?”
All she could summon was a small nod. Rafayel could hear it, however, the increase in her heartbeat.
“I just don’t want you to think that you’re not-”
“Shh,” Rafayel pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “If we are going to talk about this, it’s only right he’s with us.”
They walked down the hall together, hand in hand. It was a little past midnight, when it was too quiet, the castle seemingly much larger than it really was.
“He moved to our library not too long ago,” Rafayel explained. It was instinctive, how he always tracked Caleb’s movements. He had heard it as he laid next to their princess. The creak of the floorboards, the old hinges of the door squeaking, and the frustrated huff from the Colonel when extra noise was made.
Rafayel was positive he was going to feel a dip in the bed. Much to his disappointment, Caleb never walked through the door.
“He must be reading,” the princess guessed. The smile on her lips didn’t go unnoticed. That was one thing they all had in common - a fascination in worlds unexplored. Rafayel was confident he was more tethered than the others, however.
Sure enough, when they walked through the double doors, Caleb sat on the ground in front of the fireplace. Multiple books lay scattered around him, each with a cover related to the surrounding universes. Imperfect scraps of parchment stuck out the tops of closed volumes, some with scribbles of illegible words. The man had been busy - very busy.
And it showed in his appearance. His hair was disheveled from his fingers, some patches of hair molded to stick in the opposite direction of his natural part. The loose trousers that encased his legs were wrinkled, feet bare and seemingly out of place when compared to his usual attire. He also had adorned an oversized tunic, the collar wide enough to display a collarbone.
“Xavier recommended these,” Caleb defended, as if they had caught him in a despicable act. “Sorry, if I woke you.”
The princess sniffled, then dove, her hand slipping free from Rafayel’s easily. He had no intention of stopping her.
She landed in Caleb’s lap, arms wrapping over his shoulders. Her nose buried into the crook of his neck, inhaling that familiar amber and crisp apple. She’d request he’d leave an assortment of his shirts behind, so she might bask in his scent when she missed him the most. And miss him she would, she knew it’d be unbearable despite having Rafayel at her side.
Caleb found Rafayel over the princess’s shoulder, silent with his question. Rafayel descended to select a book from the ground, flipping through it before nodding to himself. Once content, he took a seat on a nearby couch. He was giving the pair their space, a chance to realign with each other.
“Pip,” Caleb pushed her back till she was able to read his eyes. His fingers brushed back her hair, then a hand held her secure at her lower back, the other pillowing her cheek. The princess cradled that hand with her own, nudging her cheek against his palm.
“You’re leaving,” she exhaled, tears welling at the base of her eyes. “After we just reunited.”
The man’s smile was dejected as he tried to comfort her. “It’s how I can protect you and Raf.”
Like a child, she argued pathetically. “But we don’t need protection. We need you.”
He swallowed, saliva gathering in the back of his throat. His body itself buzzed, prickly where nerves thinned out at delicate spots.
“I need you,” she confessed. “Gods, Caleb, I need you.”
The room faded, bewitching irises dismantled his rationale, all the reasons he refined within the imprisonment of his mind splintered. And that was what it had been - imprisonment. When the two he loved were absent, he was conquered by a rush of fierce thoughts. It would grow and expand, then deplete him of whatever he had. Dark desires replenished what they had vanquished.
There was nothing left within him that could grapple with his cravings. He had been wrestling with himself for far too long.
Even now, his senses sharpened, centering on her hips resting over his. The heat of her thighs against his lured him, the weight of her provoking risque thoughts.
She’d be easy to pick up, easy to throw over his shoulder, easy to pin against the wall.
“I’ll only be gone a few months, Pip. You’ll survive.”
Rafayel could hear the waver in his voice. A distraction, the human was attempting to fool himself.
The princess pressed her lips to Caleb’s temple. “That’s a long time.”
This was it, Rafayel felt the transition, the dawn of a new bond. Leaving the book on a cushion, he sank to his knees slowly, crawling till he sat behind the princess. He alerted her of his presence with a glide of his fingers down her spine.
He would be with them every step of the way.
Caleb’s eyes traced evidence, collecting clues.
He trembled ever so slightly, gaze flicking over her features, caught on her mouth as if possessed. He couldn’t break free, baited back to temptation.
Whether this was poison or an antidote, he’d like to have called it a cure.
Their princess sensed it, throat bobbing with every swallow. Acknowledgement felt like a transgression. It gnawed on her defenses, attached to a monster dark and consuming.
The tension suffocated. It was driving her wild, shackles of restraint pulled taut. Soon, if no one grabbed her, they’d shatter.
“Caleb, I-”
“She likes it when you start slow,” Rafayel interjected. When they both looked at him, he seized Caleb’s stare. Then, it dropped to the princess’s mouth. The Captain’s fingers skimmed her cheek, pursuing the curve of her jaw. He directed her back to face the Colonel. “Stay sweet, she’ll let you know when she wants more.”
Permission was what he gave.
“Make our girl feel good, yeah?”
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Caleb responded.
His fingers gripped the hair at her nape, angling her head in a way that satisfied his intentions. Her eyes softened, surrendering to his guidance.
It piqued Rafayel’s curiosity - how different her reactions were between the two. Any advance like that from the merman would have led to defiance. Their push and pull reminded him of his birth, of turbulent waves, teasing the shore only to retreat. Rough waters coerced discovery of limits, amplifying the beat of a heart.
Caleb inspired solidarity. His hold behind her neck was firm, eyes resolved as they traced features once more. He was so close. She felt the weight of his breath imprint upon her lips. She wanted to taste it herself, feel him, wet and messy, on her tongue.
“Can I?”
He had no limits except for her denial.
The princess remained silent. His words altered the air, voice strong enough to break barriers, yet hesitant enough to expose weakness. It quivered, wavering in restraint.
“Kiss me, Caleb.”
Notes:
Few things:
1) That was my first real attempt at smut.
2) It's not head-canon that Rafayel and Caleb would be like this with one another, but in the canon of this fic and what it has become, I believe they would definitely go this route. This has been drafted for weeks, and even when I tried my hardest to prevent it, they gravitated towards one another.
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