quietstxrs

[quietstxrs]

Despite the warmth of the event and the joy shared by all those in attendance, Mercy still found herself longing for the quiet peace of her hills. These people were wonderful, to be sure, and kinder than she had ever thought herself deserving of, but still she felt that familiar anxiety creeping up the back of her neck. Crowds made her nervous. Her late husband had been all too fond of hosting gatherings with his seedy friends, filling the castle with the stench of smoked tobacco and parading around his young bride.

Mercy reminded herself that she was safe here, with Leo and his family and their friends. They'd already proven the lengths they would go to ensure her safety, and River's feelings of ease and contentment were bleeding into the edges of Mercy's own psyche. But still...she couldn't recall the last time she'd had this many eyes on her, this many tongues discussing her. Leo's voice pulled her attention back to him, his warm smile momentarily making her forget everyone else in the room. "Well, you never need to worry about me flirting back. I'm not sure I remember...how," she admitted sheepishly. Romance had never been an aspect of her life she'd been allowed to pay much mind to. Each marriage was meticulously planned for her; her hand promised to men she'd never even met. She'd never had to rely on flirting. Though flirting with Leo...her cheeks turned pink at the thought.

Retrieving the tonic for him had given her reason to escape somewhere quiet, to catch her breath, though Leo stopped her before she could move far. Her bright eyes dropped to where his hand hovered in the air between them. He had been so cautious, this whole night, stopping himself despite his obvious instinct to touch her. And she appreciated the thoughtfulness, the gentleness with which he handled her. But it also made her stomach churn and her heart twist with the memories of what she had done to him, the one moment his caution had slipped.

Slowly, Mercy sat back down, her gaze flicking between her new husband and the doorway to the guest rooms. She smiled weakly at his joke, shaking her head, "I'm not-I mean-I wasn't-" she paused, trying to find the words, "it's my fault that you have this discomfort, and you are my husband now. I just...wanted to look after you." Her cheeks burned with the admission, blue eyes falling to follow the path of his hand towards her cheek. She hadn't noticed the curl until he asked, and then she found all words escaping her. Instead, she nodded awkwardly, not quite able to meet his gaze as she felt the warm brush of his touch against her cheekbone. Still not quite meeting his gaze, she reached up one of her hands, resting it tenderly over his, holding his palm to her cheek.

mercy's laughter was as healing as any tonic or spell. seeing her eyes light up at the sight of his family welcoming her with open arms, it brought such a warmth that encompassed his whole body. how different a woman she was already to the one he'd met on that balcony. it seemed as if the hardened layer of marble that shrouded her was beginning to crack, slowly. the vibrant laughter and chatter in the warm room made leo feel as though he was finally home. witchfell wasn't his home; but it was these people that were. his siblings, his family. and now mercy was a part of that. he smiled widely as river flopped her head into his lap and he planted a gentle hand on her head, giving her head scratches. he'd not known the pup for long, but already adored river like she was family, too. because she was. any extension of mercy was. he looked up at his wife's words and his gaze softened.

"you have no idea how happy that makes me, mercy." his grin widened, "but remember that when you get sick of my siblings. raina is not actually family by blood, but we took her in and she is undoubtedly my sister. nothing will stop her flirting with you, though." he laughed freely, though the pain in his throat had him wincing a little. his voice was becoming more hoarse, and it was hard to hide his discomfort. but the last thing he wanted was for mercy to feel guilty over what had happened earlier that evening. not when there was such a lively celebration going on around them. she would not be her, though, if she hadn't caught on to his discomfort. on instinct he reached for her when she stood, but stopped himself from touching her. it would always be on her terms. "running away from me already?" he joked, gesturing for her to sit back down. "i can have some soon, милосердие. you are my bride, not someone to wait on me on our wedding day. sit. enjoy yourself. amyr is an idiot when he is intoxicated, it makes for a grand spectacle." he noticed a curl in her line of vision and raised a gentle hand. "may i?"

[quietstxrs]

The sudden cacophony of cheers nearly startled her out of her skin. Again, this was all so different from her last wedding, completed in solemn silence. Now there was joy. Her eyes opened to find his already gazing down at her, with the most wonderful smile settled on his lips. There was an odd feeling unfolding in her chest, and it took her a moment to realise what it was. She felt wanted. Leo's smile broke, a breath of laughter escaping his lips, and before Mercy even realised it, she was laughing as well, the sound soft between them. Her hands slowly fell from his cheeks, resting briefly on his shoulders before falling to her sides.

The man, whom she had assumed to be Leo's brother, given the resemblance to him and Evgenia, approached then, tailed by Evgenia. Mercy continued to smile, being sure to memorize the brother's name as he was introduced. He was her new family, after all. "I'm honoured to be joining such a...warm family," Mercy said, smiling gently at the siblings. Before she could say much more, Evgenia had bustled Amyr away to scold him. Mercy turned her attention back to her husband, his handsome face smiling down at her. She couldn't help but wonder how different her life might have been if he had been her first, or her only husband. How different she might be. It didn't matter now; he had seen who she was, quicker and harsher than she might have liked, but he had seen it, and he still wanted her.

She slid her hand into the crook of his arm, with less hesitation than she had in the hours before. There was still that undercurrent of anxiety, the tension in her shoulders, the way River remained glued to her side, but each moment next to Leo became a little bit less daunting. She was amazed by what Evgenia had managed to pull together in a few hours, her eyes taking in the small, merry crowd as Leo led her to the sofa. She didn't want him to leave her side, but he was gone before she could stop him, a bubbly woman quickly filling the space beside her. She could barely keep up with the woman, Raina's, animated stories of the siblings, and she couldn't quite hide the relief on her face when Leonid returned.

She took the offered drink as he sat next to her, and River wriggled over to be able to plop her head in his lap. "I have many regrets," she admitted softly, her eyes briefly dropping to the bandages she could still see below his collar, "but marrying you tonight is not one of them." Mercy took a sip of the alcohol, breathing deeply as it burned through her throat and heated her chest. Her brow pinched in concern at the returning hoarseness of his voice, and her smile dropped. "Is your throat alright?" she asked quietly, moving to stand. "I brought more tonic if you need, I left it with my things in the guestroom."

time crawled as leo awaited mercy to initiate the kiss. he wasn't even certain she would, or that she felt comfortable enough - he wouldn't blame her, a kiss was far more intimate than a brush of a hand or a touch on the shoulder. could the marriage be sealed without a kiss? it was custom, but he was certain if she didn't feel comfortable he would find a way around it.

but then she was reaching up to embrace his cheeks ever so gently, and his breath halted. he hovered his hands over her waist, careful not to touch, and then she lifted herself upwards and their lips pressed together and leo could have sworn he saw stars. her lips were so incredibly soft and tasted so sweet. he wanted with every fiber of his being to embrace her and deepen the kiss, that pull to her becoming so intense the moment their lips touched, like she was a planet and he was caught in her orbit. everything else faded away, like faint, dim stars in the distance. and then raina wooed at the top of her lungs and made the both of them jump. they broke apart and leo could only stare at her in wonder for causing such electricity to shoot through him. eventually he let out a huff, then a laugh as the rest of the few attendees joined in the celebrations. amyr patted his shoulder and gave mercy a warm smile. "welcome to the family. good luck with this one, you will need it." leo rolled his eyes and gave his brother a playful shove. "trying to steal my wife already? i knew you were a flirt, but that is just low, amyr." his voice was light and full of humour. the muffled sounds of genie scolding amyr passed by leo, drowned out by the visage of mercy stealing his breath away once again. he smiled softly at her and extended the crook of his arm for her to take so they could head inside, where a cozy room with a fireplace, nibbles and copious amounts of alcohol had been set up. once inside, he led her over to one of the sofas. the others trickled in, raina introducing herself to mercy as 'extended family' while leo fetched the two of them some punch. when he returned, he rolled his eyes. "raina, stop flirting with my wife." he sat down next to mercy, resting an arm on the sofa behind her head. he didn't express it, but he really was needing another tonic. the alcohol was burning far too much, but he was not exactly complaining, either. "regretting your decision yet, lady braddock?" he looked to his two siblings bickering and laughed proudly.

[quietstxrs]

She had been teasing, for the most part. Their fevered kiss in the library and everything that had followed had been far more than she had expected from the ball. But she wasn't complaining. Cyra wasn't a fool; she hadn't been expecting anything as naive or fleeting as a love match, but the taste of intimacy and closeness to him was almost addictive. Almost enough to make her forget the business nature of their hasty betrothal. Almost. But then Salem was standing straight, breaking from the heated breath that had been shared, leaving her cold.

At his words, she felt the mask of cool unfeeling slip back over her face. At this point, it was instinct, and it hid the surprising disappointment that had risen in her chest. What had she been hoping for? Some declaration of desire? Some whispered promise of touch? She was not so empty-headed as that. She stepped away from the wall, smoothing down her gown, "I would never do anything to sully your good name," she said, taking the hand offered, "or our name, as it is soon to be."

She followed his lead onto the dancefloor. At the very least, the engagement would save him from the hordes of young women pining for a dance at these events. Cyra couldn't actually be sure of the last time she saw him dance, certainly before his mother passed. His hand rested on her waist, and she had to push away the thoughts of his lips on hers, his body pressed against the curves of her own, feet moving easily into the practiced steps of the dance. She had learned to dance in Ashana, the capital city of the Hidden Twins. The dances of her home were much quicker and more complex than the dances taught in this country, and she often had to deal with her dance partners stepping all over her toes in their clumsy attempts to woo her. But dancing with Salem was easy, natural even. The deep amethyst fabric of her skirts fluttering as they swept around the room.

salem's eyes darkened further at her words, and he had the desire to whisk her away and make her fulfill those promises. he particularly enjoyed the way she addressed him, despite being a princess herself. he had told her long ago she was one of the few people able to address him without formality, yet she still chose to call him my prince. he'd be a filthy liar if he said it didn't evoke something in him. and then he felt like he'd been doused with cold water. he stiffened. i hadn't expected things to get so heated so quickly. he had been the one to initiate this intimate, heated moment. what had he been thinking? he stood up straight, feeling the weight of his crown in all of its meanings. he had agreed to a betrothal for a mutual benefit, not to take a lover. there was a reason why salem hardly initiated intimacy of any kind, nor did he ever fuck the same woman twice. he knew he could trust cyra; that they both strived for the same goal, but salem's heart was like impenetrable iron, and he had crafted it that way over many years. few ever got close to him, and he kept it that way intentionally. love, intimacy.. it did not exist to him. it could not. "you are right. it is most unsavory.. even for me." there was a part of him, however, that still wanted that intimacy. that touch. he tried to suppress it, to shove it down, so much so that his head started to ache. he knew appearances must be upheld, and so extended his hand for her to take, and he led them to the dance floor. the sea of people parted for the couple, cyra's ring glistening in the light of the chandelier above them. he took her hand and her waist without a word, leading them in the next dance that started as soon as they'd stepped into position. the dancers around them had exited the dance floor quickly, either intimidated by salem or wanting to gawk at the newly betrothed couple themselves.

[quietstxrs]

It wasn’t a terrible idea. It did sound somewhat like the plot of one of her novels, but her novels were nothing if not a hopeful reflection of the real world. If they did it right it could propel her sister into the attention of all the best eligible bachelors of the ton. For a title-less, second daughter of a merchant (however wealthy their father may be), it was more than they could have ever dared hope for. Her baby sister could become a Lady of the court. As she deserved, Jaya thought. Of course, if it went wrong in anyway it could cause quite the scandal and ruin any prospects her sister had. And Jaya simply wouldn’t allow that. It had to go right.

She gave him a pointed look as he suggested they find somewhere quieter. She could see her sister had retreated to one of the many more secluded sitting alcoves around the room with the young man she had been speaking with. After a beat, with the song beginning to wind down, Jaya nodded. She slipped her hand politely into the crook of his arm, careful to never step over the bounds of propriety as she led him to a bench near a balcony, with perfect eyeliner to her sister’s position.

“Quietly,” she emphasised as she sat, “as in by the book, completely. No grand announcements, no over-the-top gestures of affection, no gaudy or wildly expensive gifts. We will only do what is needed to keep everyone convinced of the courtship. Once our sisters are happily wed we will quietly call it off,” she carefully folded one leg over the other, brushing down her skirts, “I do not intend to make a spectacle of myself for this.”

jaya was an incredibly elegant dancer. the way she moved had jude looking at no one but her, feeling their fluid movements as they tread the ballroom floor like the most seasoned dancers. his hand felt secure at her waist, but his heart beat ferociously in his chest as he awaited her answer. had he been a fool to even suggest such a thing? he thought it smart, really. tell the court they were betrothed and having a long engagement until the end of the season as to not draw attention away from their siblings debuts, and hope to each and every god that he didn't fall for a woman who did not wish to be attached to him. she agreed. he stared at her for a moment with wide eyes. she'd agreed? he blinked a few times and cleared his throat. he was to pretend he was in love with this woman. this.. beautiful woman that he could not get attached to. "and how do you suppose we do it quietly, miss fontaine? is it not the point that the court knows and leaves us be?" he smirked, his mind imagining them hiding in closets and empty rooms, with their ears to the doors. "such confidence. i could ask the same of you," he laughed lightly and spun her around. "we should speak somewhere more.. private." he had been risking it, asking it aloud on the dancefloor, but the question had been drowned by the music of the king's orchestra. a formal agreement was not best suited for a circle of moving, flourishing gowns and suits.

[quietstxrs]

Gods, he was somehow even more handsome than he had been two hours ago. Genie had done an impressive job gathering a small band of witnesses. While Mercy vaguely recognised some of them, her attention was completely captured by her groom. She thought, for a moment, she might be going mad. Her first wedding had been so different, in gaudily decorated hallowed halls, escorted down the cold aisle by her father, a gown of beads and velvet, heavy like a cage. How different this was, how warm. She hadn’t realised a wedding could be warm like this. Let alone one so rushed. River’s presence at her side was more comfort than her father’s ever was, though she could feel the excitement in the hound’s movements. The faithful familiar using all her willpower not to bound towards Leo in delight. 

The walk down the aisle seemed to stretch on forever, like she was moving through molasses, but then she blinked and suddenly she was at the end, standing before her future husband. Was she breathing? Mercy couldn’t tell. Her pulse was thrumming so loudly in her ears that it drowned out almost everything else. Everything except him. She beamed at his compliment as he lifted the veil from her face. Her thunderous heart could have put church bells and storm clouds to shame. She wanted to return the compliment, tell him just how handsome he looked, how wonderful this all was, but that fist of shame and anxiety still grasped tight around her throat. 

The officiant spoke before the silence could last too long, and Mercy was grateful. There was immense relief when they revealed that Leo would be saying the vows; she wasn’t sure she could muster her own name in that moment. He cleared his throat before he began, and she could hear the hoarseness returning. You did that. The fist around her throat threatened to choke her, but she had to be strong. Leo had been so kind, so patient. The least she could do was stand strong. As he began to speak, she carefully reached out, her hands trembling but determined as they gently slid into his. There was that twist of sickness in her stomach, that unease in her chest, but there was also…so much warmth. The warmth of his hands, his eyes, in his smile, and his words. His vows. 

His words were so beautiful, so sincere. She could feel tears prickling the edges of her vision, catching like diamonds in her lashes. As he spoke, that feeling that had suffocated her for hours began to ease. Guilt still sat heavy on her heart, but knowing that he still wanted her, that whatever troubles they would face, they would face together, soothed the shame that had choked her. She squeezed his hands on those words, my wife.

Her eyes dropped to the ring on the chain, sniffling softly as he placed it around her neck. She cast a grateful glance back at Evgenia at his talk of family. In only a few hours, she had witnessed the lengths they’d go to for each other, for her. The other girl gave her a little wink before Mercy turned her attention back to Leonid and the ring as he gently placed the chain around her neck. She lifted a hand to gently touch the cool metal, swiping her thumb over the delicate engraving, etching the feeling into her bones.

You may kiss your bride.

She had been almost dreading the moment she had thought she'd have so much more time to prepare for. There was that feeling again, the twitching in her feet and tensing in her legs, her body begging her to run. But then she looked back at Leonid's face, met his eyes, saw his smile, and everything else disappeared. It was just them in that moment, together. And she felt safe.

Mercy slowly nodded, reaching up her still trembling hands to his face, her fingertips ghosting across his jawline before resting against his cheekbones. She pushed up on her toes and used the soft touch to draw him down to her, her lips meeting his in a gentle caress. It was the sweetest kiss she could remember experiencing, like honey in the spring or the first mist of autumn; it washed over her. In that fleeting moment, all the hurt was forgotten, all the guilt and shame lifted from her shoulders. It would return, she knew, but for that second she could just be there, with him.  

leo relaxed at the familiar banter with his sister. he hoped they'd be able to find amyr in time. he hadn't had a chance to meet with his elder brother since arriving in witchfell; he would no doubt question his younger sibling's sanity, but he would no doubt stand at leo's side as his best man. "amyr?" he asked his sister, the rest of his question unspoken. he knew his sister would understand his desire for their brother to be there. he reached for his jacket and into his pocket, holding it out for his sister. "if i wake up desolate tomorrow, i will find you and knock you upside the head, little sister." his words held no weight, his eyes instead holding gratitude. this wouldn't be possible without her. he rolled his eyes at basically being pushed out of the door, shooting a look back to mercy over his shoulder. he smiled, trying to assure her that everything would be alright. despite the looming threat over their heads. despite them rushing into everything. despite the hoarseness of his voice and the bandages around his neck.

it will work out, he told himself. it was not exactly uncommon for those in their circles to get married quickly. that was the norm, as people often wanted to produce heirs while they were young. it definitely was not the norm to rush into a wedding after being nearly choked to death. the thought nearly made him burst into a fit of laughter. it was absolutely ridiculous. stefan - as leo had been advised the butler's name was - accompanied him to the manor by carriage. as he reached to open the door, it swung open and he was greeted by a bewildered looking amyr. it took near to an hour to explain the situation to his eldest brother, who was at first, furious. but as the two of them had joined once to save their sister, he eventually understood that the three of them needed to come together once again to protect and care for a new member of their family. stefan had recruited the household staff to set up the venue, their manor's gardens, but leo and amyr helped out where they could. he eventually was ushered off to get changed into a non bloody formal attire and after a bath, dressed in his favourite suit. not soon after, he found himself standing at the end of the altar, after not even having a moment to himself to think about the night's events or process it. he felt nausea settle in his gut. is this what mercy truly wanted? he was but a mere stranger. so was she, to him. they had an immediate connection, yes, but.. leo worried she'd felt pressured. his mind started to swell with doubts for the second time that night, but as the doors to the garden opened and a vision in pearl stepped into his line of sight, he heard nothing but the sound of his own heart thumping in his chest. gods, she looked beautiful. ethereal. even more beautiful than she'd been at the ball, which he had not thought possible. their eyes met and he felt the tension leaving his body. whatever happened, they would face it together. mercy and him. and river, of course. he eyed the pup escorting her down the aisle and laughed lightly. when mercy reached the front of the aisle, amyr nudged him as if to indicate he'd picked a beautiful bride. he had to refrain from rolling his eyes. he couldn't remove them from mercy's visage, anyway. he slowly inched his hands toward her veil, giving her the space to pull back if necessary, and slowly lifted it. his breath hitched in his throat. the tonic had started to wear off, but he didn't care in the slightest. "милосердие. you look beautiful." the officiant started the ceremony and leonid took a moment to look around him. he was surprised to see a winking raina sitting alongside his sister. raina had always been like a sister to him, albeit a flirty one. genie looked beautiful, having somehow had the time to redress. the officiant spoke. "lord muradova has requested some changes to the typical ceremony. instead of you, lady braddock, stating your vows and receiving a new ring, leonid has requested he speak." leo felt a flutter of nerves. nothing about this was traditional, but leo didn't want that for mercy. he wanted her to feel as an equal, never to answer to him or to make vows. he wanted to make a vow to her. he cleared his throat, trying to project his hoarse voice and ignoring the pain, "милосердие, у тебя мой меч и моя верность. куда бы ты ни пошла, я последую за тобой. ты будешь мне во всем равна, никогда не отвечай мне. пусть этот меч пронзит мое сердце если я нарушу свою клятву тебе или причиню тебе боль. я беру твое имя. ты никогда не будешь ниже меня, и я никогда не буду выше тебя. в этом я клянусь тебе, моя жена."

mercy, you have my sword and my loyalty. where you go, i shall follow. you shall be my equal in all things, never to answer to me. may this sword pierce my heart should i break my vow to you or cause you pain. i take your name. you will never be beneath me, and i never above you. to this i vow to you, my wife. after he finished speaking, he reached into his jacket pocket to produce a chain with his signet ring around it. "to remind you that you have my name also. perhaps not in title, but you are part of this family, just as i am part of yours now. the muradova family protects their own." he looked to his siblings, nodding at them. the officiant nodded along with him. "and so it is done. the two of you are now wed, with your friends and family to bear witness. i present to you all, lord leonid braddock and his wife, lady mercy braddock. you may kiss your bride, lord braddock." leonid smiled and turned to mercy. "on your own terms, wife."

[quietstxrs]

He had such a handsome, boyish grin, the way he smiled at her as she agreed had warmth blooming in her chest. Mercy had never had anyone take such drastic measures to help her, to protect her. Genie stood between them, looking back and forth between their disgustingly smitten faces. She waved her hands as her brother spoke, rolling her eyes, "Of course, of course, what do I look like? An amateur? Just - " she held out her hand for the chequebook, wiggling her fingers impatiently, "trust the process, hm?" Her dark brows quirked at his assertion of taking Mercy's name, but the pleased smile remained firmly on her face, "Well, that'll certainly make the paperwork interesting."

She sprang into action as soon as the chequebook was in her hands. "Alrighty, Mercy darling, you're with me. We'll host at the Muradova townhouse; the gardens are perfect for intimate affairs. You'll get ready here, I'll have my lady's maid bring over some of my gowns in case you don't have one you're happy with." Mercy could only stand and nod dumbly as Leo's sister worked her magic, giving orders and mapping out the evening like she'd been planning it for a whole year. Genie had sent Leonid and Stefan - the butler - ahead to the Muradova house to begin preparations while she gathered the necessary pieces - paperwork, witnesses, flowers. Bluebells, as Mercy had timidly admitted to being her favourite.

Now she found herself alone in her bedroom, a selection of beautiful, delicate gowns laid out on the bed before her. Evgenia had sent over a beautiful selection of garments that far outshone her own. She had brought only small luggage to attend the ball. The other woman had even produced a veil - Mercy had been too stunned to question how or why she had it. Thoughts of the night still spun through Mercy's mind. The look in Leonid's eyes as he struggled for air, how dark his blood against the marble had been, it still haunted her. Part of her still fretted that it was all some elaborate ruse, that surely this couldn't be real. But the dresses before her, the ring on her finger, the fluttering in her stomach. This was real. Her fingers ghosted over the pale silk of a delicate cream and ivory gown, a smile ghosting over her features as she made her decision.

~~

Genie returned for her just under two hours later and accompanied her to the Muradova home. River could barely sit still in the carriage, her own excited energy mirroring the nerves of her mistress. Despite the late hour, the home was awash with warm light, bluebells strung from every cornice from the front door through to the garden path. Mercy's hand rested on River's shoulder as she moved through the house, the soft fur under her bare palms the steadying force she needed. Genie walked ahead of her down the small aisle, and Mercy's eyes followed her steps until they found Leo, standing at the end. She needed someone to pinch her. She could still see the traces of bandages just below the collar of his shirt, and were it not for River's form beside her, she might have run away in shame. But she didn't. On trembling legs, she began her walk down the aisle.

time slowed. leo could hear his heart beat in his ears, feel the thump thump thump of it rattling in his chest as he waited, unable to inhale or exhale until she said something. anything. preferably not no, though. that would have been mortifying. she looked at him like he'd lost his mind. perhaps he had. "if anyone finds out what happened, mercy, gods knows what could happen to you. i don't want to take any risks. i cannot." and i want to marry you. she fired off questions, ones he was well prepared to answer after a quick discussion with his sister, but she saved him the effort. the door swung open and she absolutely beamed. leo rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the smirk from growing on his lips. that sister of his, always so nosey. but he'd have nothing less. he adored her. he quirked an eyebrow at the mention of his chequebook, unsure if he trusted her to not spend every penny he had, but he wanted it to at least be special in some way. for mercy. she deserved that. his cocked eyebrow turned into a frown. "you think i was going to drag her down the aisle? of course it is her choice, genie." he felt like throwing the roll of bandages next to him at her. it would always be her choice. i want this. his eyes flicked back to mercy, and he grinned, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his broad shoulders. part of him was surprised she'd agreed, given what had happened, but the look in her eyes told him she understood what was at stake. but there was something else there... something else blooming that he couldn't quite paint a full picture of yet. he nodded, and looked to genie. "if you can with the limited time, make sure she gets her favourite flowers. and a dress she loves. oh and genie -" there was a brief pause, and he lifted his chin. "i will be taking her last name."

[quietstxrs]

There were those words again. My wife. Cyra hadn’t expected them to have quite the profound effect on her. She had known, obviously, that if all went to plan as she had hoped that is what she would be. She was prepared to be the bride of the Second Prince of Witchfell. But to be Salem’s wife… That seemed a whole other beast entirely. One she would gladly tame, if it meant she kept him looking at her like that. Cyra was no fool, she knew the tendencies of men in their society, she knew Salem would likely be experienced with women - despite having never seemed all that interested in courting any of them. She had figured that disinterest would bleed into their marriage, expecting nothing more platonic exchanges and what duty required. But the way he looked at her….she could have sworn he wanted to devour her.

What an interesting turn of events.

She was pleased to see the way her words had affected him, unable to keep the smile from her lips as he pressed her into the wall with his hands and body. She knew Salem was dangerous, knew what he was capable of, but she didn’t fear him. With his body flush against her and his breath against her ear and the scent of him invading her senses, fear was the furthest thing from her mind. “There is nothing I’m not prepared for, my prince. But you should know I don’t beg for just anyone,” she was a proud woman, the beloved Princess Royal of a great nation. Once upon a time she would have denied anyone the pleasure of seeing her beg, but for Salem…. She swallowed thickly against the feeling of desire making her throat tight, clouding her thoughts, “I must admit…I hadn’t expected things to get so heated so quickly but….I do love the way it burns. I am a glutton for punishment.”

Her eyes flickered away from him for a moment, over his shoulder to the crowds of the ball. Their intimate embrace was beginning to attract attention, and while she didn’t really care they both needed this engagement to go as smoothly as possible. She was sure his brother would be looking for any reason to name her an unfit match. “The masses are awaiting, beloved,” she murmured, meeting his gaze once more, “don’t you want to show off your bride?”

the close proximity had been intentional only for appearances' sake, or so salem told himself. but the smell of her perfume... her blood... the way she ran her hand down his chest.. it embraced him, putting him in a dream like state almost, drowning out the music that had started up amongst the murmuring. he inhaled deeply. it had been a good idea, in theory. he just hadn't expected her to play along so well. a fool's move, salem, he chided himself. he knew cyra better than that. "my wife," he dragged out the words, "should be better taken care of than the queen herself. few are even worthy of that title." her hand slid upwards and he felt blood flowing to all the wrong places. his eyes flickered red as he stopped himself from physically reacting to those words, and that look in her eyes. was this not just business? the lines were certainly starting to muddy already. that did not bode well. he was about to pull away, to act as if their conversation had ended in appearance, but then she spoke like a siren and those words. fuck. salem gripped the hand that fisted his hair, along with her other one, and pulled them above her head, pushing her into the wall with his torso and hips. he used one hand to hold her in place, and the other brushed back a curl as he leaned in close to her ear. "careful with your words, blackbird. do not start something you are not prepared for." he pressed his mouth against her ear then, his rings digging into her hands, "you would be covered in both of our bloods, writhing and begging and whimpering my name. i would have you at my mercy. i am punishing, cyra, and i take great pleasure from hearing a woman's cries, thinking she can take no more, and i still don't stop until i say she has had enough." he tilted her chin up, staring in those amethyst eyes, their chests pressing against each other as they breathed deeply. "is that want you want, blackbird? was this what you thought about when you came up with this arrangement?"

[quietstxrs]

You are my light. Those words could almost make her feel guilty. Perhaps, ten years ago, she had been light. Remaining hopeful despite her cold upbringing and complicated family, finding joy and love despite her lonely marriage. But things had changed. She had changed. "The poets had it wrong," she murmured sadly, her breath ghosting against his jaw, "the fire is always hungry. The light is just a byproduct...of the burning." And she had been burning for ten years. She thought herself all ash and charcoal inside. Loneliness had made her cold; motherhood had made her dangerous. When the manor had burned to the ground all those years ago, she had stood at the steps of the blaze, Antony soundly asleep in her arms despite the screams. She hadn't known her late husband capable of making such noises, and each one was sweeter than the last. Her only regret about that night was that he would never know it was she who killed him.

Leandra killed two people that night: Sauvaige Dubois and the girl Lucien had once known. Both burned to nothing but ashes. "The bright day is done," the words still came so easily, despite her copy of Antony and Cleopatra going unused for ten years, like they were carved across her heart, "and we are for the dark." So much remained unsaid between them, so many shadows behind their shared embrace, so much pain still to be felt. She knew it would not be simple; every star in the sky seemed to cry out that they were doomed, but she also knew that she couldn't lose him. She would burn the stars from the sky to keep him by her side.

There was no hesitation in his touch as she kissed him. Like coming home from a long journey, her body eased against his. His hands pressed against her everywhere, and the feeling of his touch was dizzying. In ten years, there had been no one else, her bed had remained cold, and her skin untouched. Leandra had resigned herself to that, had made peace with it. But with Lucien here, pressed against her, all those aches and desires came crashing back through her. He lifted her, and her legs wrapped easily around his waist, her lips never breaking from his as both hands found his hair. She was desperate for him, almost drunk on his lips and the feeling of his hands against her body.

She barely registered that he'd lain her down on the settee until he broke from the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, and she could feel the thrum of her pulse through her veins. Her hands moved from his hair to ghost across his cheeks. She'd been wondering the same thing, the whole night she'd been afraid he was just some...ghost. But he wasn't. He was real. He kissed her again, and his hand slid down to hold her thigh. Leandra couldn't hide the way she moaned softly against his lips, didn't care to hide it. They had spent so many blissful hours tangled up just like this. It had been so long since she had felt any of this.

"Gods, Lucien," she gasped, peppering kisses against his jaw as she fought to catch her breath, "I've missed you. I've missed you so much." Her lips found his again, her touch almost fevered as he pulled his form ever closer to her own. "I love you," she whispered into the kiss, "I love you, I love you, I love you..."

stop trying to make me blame you. those words rang in his mind on a loop as he continued to stare at the smooth skin of her neck, watching the pulse thump there. thump. thump. thump. time slowed, and it felt like his world was slowly turning upside down. glimpses of her hair on fire flashed before his eyes. my blaze consumed the house whole. "you are the light, my cleo," he whispered as he nuzzled his face against the side of her neck, inhaling deeply. his grip tightened on her hair, but he was controlling himself. barely. "fire births light, and darkness and shadow consume it with wrathful hunger." he recited a line from a poem that they'd read together. it had always stayed with him. leandra would always burn brightly, full of light and spirit. you should blame me, he wanted to say. she had likely known and grieved people that he had killed in blind hunger. but as she titled his head up and their eyes locked, his gaze conveyed exactly just how desperately he needed her to understand that. but then they moved to his lips, and his hands slowly ran down her arms, his mind suddenly torn from the blood running in her veins to the way she was looking at him. to the way she desired him. he could have spent so much time questioning why she desired him, after everything he'd done. he knew that look in her gaze well. but there was no fighting it.

the way her warm hands felt against his cool skin, the way her warm breath almost breathed life back into him as they stood, foreheads nearly touching, embracing each other desperately. he had ached for her touch for so many years. craved it with all of his being, and so when she pressed her lips to his, he did not hesitate to pull her in by the waist and deepen it immediately, needing her like he needed air. his hands ran everywhere, trying to make up for the loss of touch for so long, for lost time, and he lifted her into his arms, hooking her legs around his hips as he walked her backwards towards the settee behind them.

he laid her down on it, breaking their kiss to cup her cheek. "is this real?" he hadn't even realized he'd asked the question aloud. he leaned in and kissed her again, tangling his hand in her hair and placing the other on the thigh of her nightgown, hoisting her leg up and holding it in place.

[quietstxrs]

You capture my attention more than any woman I have ever met.

Mercy's skin flushed such a vibrant red it could have almost rivalled her hair. She hadn't expected him to rebuke the idea, let alone so strongly. The conviction in his voice was the comfort she didn't know she needed, and she felt her body lose some of the tension it had been holding. So she hadn't completely ruined everything; Leo truly was as patient and forgiving as she had given him credit for.

She did not miss how his hand curled into a fist when she spoke about her late husband. Mercy had lived with violent men all her life; there wasn't much her eyes didn't catch. But she didn't think Leonid was a violent man. He wasn't furious at her; he was furious for her. "Do not worry, Leo," she said his name with the weakest breath of a smile, "I wouldn't allow it either." She hadn't spent the last year with a sword in hand to let some other man come in and hurt her. Had Leo not been the man he was, had he been someone like the late Lord Braddock, the marriage would have been as short-lived as the last.

The skin of his shoulder was so warm under her palm. For a moment, she was mesmerised, eyes fixed on the bare skin beneath her fingers, the feeling of his muscles shifting as he breathed. Her gaze snapped up to meet his as he tilted his head to watch her. God forbid he catch her staring so shamelessly. The room was so quiet, barely lit by the dying warmth of the fireplace, she was closer to him than she had been to any man for a year. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but before she could, he was jolting to his feet. Mercy jumped at the suddenness of the action, jerking her hand away like she had been burned. Her eyes darted away from him. Until he spoke.

Marry me tonight, Mercy.

"W-what?" she managed to stammer out, searching his face, her heart pounding in her chest. Less than ten minutes ago, she had been fretting that their betrothal was over before it could even really begin. Now...she could be his wife before sunrise. The thought was...insanity, but it would protect them from any potential fallout from her...episode. River barked softly, hopping from one side to another, obviously pleased at the prospect. "B-but the witnesses," she began, "-the officiant? It's- I mean it's almost midnight. How-?" The door to the room burst open, cutting her off before she could continue her stammering. Evgenia stood, flanked by the butler, and the positively delighted look in her eyes told Mercy that Leo's sister had heard everything exchanged.

"I know a guy," the dark-haired woman announced triumphantly, bustling excitedly into the room, "give me two hours and your chequebook, Leo. I can have you blushing, newlyweds by morn!" Evgenia paused then, her face falling serious as she turned to face Mercy, "If, this is what you want."

Mercy hesitated a moment, looking between the siblings and the ring glittering on her finger. River was pressed happily against Leo's side, and Mercy knew in her bones that this was the right choice. "Okay," she said, looking back up at Leonid, her face softening into a small smile, "I want this."

leo sat down at her command, not opposing. his legs had started to feel a little like jelly. part of him was thankful she wished to do it, that she wished to still be near him. after seeing all of that guilt, after seeing her tears, he knew she would never intentionally harm him. so as she started to bandage his throat, he did not flinch. instead, he smiled. it was a boyish, goofy smile. but he was proud of her. a stranger he'd met only that night. who had nearly killed him. it was perhaps a little bit ridiculous, but he was. "call off the wedding?" he raised a brow. some men would. he sighed as she continued, his heart heavy, and dragged a hand down his face, the tonic making him a little loose with his tongue. "mercy, i have known you for all of two hours and you capture my attention more than any woman i have ever met. i did not consider that for a single moment. i know that you saw fear in my eyes when you awoke. but you say it yourself, you do not wish to be like this, but you are not your trauma, mercy. i know that without doubt." his first curled as she talked about her previous marriage to this lord braddock. i was his favourite victim. he felt his teeth grit against each other. he was usually so calm, and had been for most of his life, before this eve. but he held his tongue of all the profanities he wanted to spit knowing he had hurt someone undeserving. "i do not see a victim, mercy. you survived him, and if i can help it, i will not let you suffer at the hands of another cruel husband again." he felt the lightest touch on his back, and he turned his head to meet her gaze. she was touching him. without her gloves. his heart soard, but quickly sank at the realization of their predicament. how he hadn't thought of it earlier, well, he blamed the adrenaline. or the toxin. he stood quickly, wobbling a little. he knew what would happen if there had even been one witness, unseen at the time. or if there had been someone that had heard him in pain, calling her name. or perhaps there would be someone in the morrow that spotted him with bandages around his neck, as well. if any one found out, they would be separated and war could break out amongst their people. perhaps she would not find another husband, if word spread far of what she had done. she could be shamed. part of him did wonder if she would be freer, but no. he knew how cruel this court was. and most of all, he did not wish another man's ring on her finger. call it idiocy, call it lust, he was certain he would be a less happy man should he lose her as his wife. "marry me tonight, mercy."

[quietstxrs]

Mercy startled as Leonid spoke, not expecting his voice to become so clear so quickly, her eyes flicking between Evgenia and the butler as they departed from the room. Once more, they left her alone with him, but now he was half-dressed, the evidence of her trauma response so clear against his fair skin. She wanted to beg them to stay, to leave in their place, flee to her room, and hide until morning when she could escape back to the countryside. How was she supposed to face him every day now? How was she supposed to marry him? What if it happened again and no one was around? What if next time she killed him?

The room was silent in the wake of their exit. Mercy was sure he'd be able to hear the hammering of her heart. He stood, and suddenly she found herself at height with his bare chest. Her entire face turned pink, and her eyes snapped up to his in a desperate attempt to keep her focus anywhere but his chest. Her eyes were like saucers as he spoke, the damp bandage still clutched in her trembling hands. The way he was talking...She had been expecting him to call the wedding off, to claim she was too fragile a bride for a diplomatic marriage. But here he was, speaking as if they had a future. River was so pleased as he turned his attention to her, tail thudding against the floor's hardwood, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

Once more, she could feel that ease beginning to bleed into the edges of her mind. River's instincts were never wrong, and he had been so kind, even in the aftermath of her hurting him. She swallowed thickly, mustering the courage to speak. "Please, sit down. Your wounds need tending. I-" She paused, inhaling deeply and steadying herself and meeting his gaze, "it is a knight's duty to right what they have wronged. Please, I need to do this. I want to do this."

Once he was seated again, she began slowly, gently, wrapping the bandages around the bloodied marks on his neck. Her slim fingers were surprisingly adept, despite the way they trembled. River remained firmly at his side, her head resting happily in his lap. "I thought...I thought you might want to call the wedding off," Mercy admitted softly, "once you saw the damage." She pressed her lips into a thin line, stepping away for a brief moment to retrieve more bandages, keeping her back to him as she continued, not wanting to lose her nerve. "I never wanted to be like this. I never used to be like this," she shook her head, hurrying back to his side to continue bandaging, "I never wanted it to be this hard. But Lord Braddock....there was no kindness in him. And I was his favourite victim."

She paused for a moment, before carefully resting on hand on his bare shoulder, "I-I want this marriage to work, else my father will find another old lord to tie me to. If...If you'll still have me."

gods, the look of torment in mercy's eyes nearly made him choke all over again. her lips trembled as she spoke and he wanted nothing more than to hug her, to hold her, to reassure her because someone had mistreated her so badly that this was her natural response. it made his chest ache. he didn't get the chance to speak, as the butler and his sister returned. he was passed a healing tonic, which when he downed, made him a bit woozy. he blinked a few times, almost like he felt a bit.. intoxicated. how strange. the pain was easing in his throat, however, and he felt like he could talk without feeling like he was swallowing glass. he tested it by speaking to his sister in a hushed tone. his voice was still hoarse, but he felt no pain whatsoever. perhaps it had been a tonic specifically to numb his senses? he helped the butler and his sister (which was incredibly weird for leonid) to strip him of his coat and shirt. he was surprised at the amount of blood that stained his skin. mercy hovered next to him a moment later, shaking. that ache came back. the tonic hadn't been strong enough to dull the ache in his chest whenever he looked at her ashen face.

she stood there like she was frozen in time, back in the hallways of the castle, the fear still lingering in her gaze. he lifted his chin to the other two in the room. "do you mind giving us some privacy?" the butler looked slightly concerned, given they'd be unchaperoned, but genie gave him a smile and linked her arm with his to pull him away. by both leo and mercy's states, it was safe to assume nothing corrupt would happen, even if the news would probably disappoint his sister. leo linked his hands behind his back, intertwining his fingers, and stood so that he was facing her. her gaze felt heavier now that he had no shirt. he felt exposed, his heart raced at the thought. he tried to slow his breathing. "four things," he stood tall and looked her in the eye, albeit a bit wobbly, "one, i am sorry. i should not have touched you. two, it is okay. i am okay. i mean, it would have been unfortunate if you had killed me, but here i am, in the flesh. literally." he flicked his eyes down to his torso and smirked. it only lasted for a brief second. "three, i do not know what that man did to you, but if he were here, he would be wishing he was dead." leo was not a violent person. but he would have no problem making that one man pay. "and four. i can clean my own wounds. you do not have to touch me. unless you choose to. and five-" wait, had he said four? the tonic was making him a little.. inebriated. "i will not touch you ever again unless you ask for it." his eyes dropped and he laughed at river's pouting face. "except you, river. i will give you all the cuddles in the world."

[quietstxrs]

Mercy wasn't sure she would ever forget that look of fear in his eyes when she had awoken. It killed her, wondering if it was the same look her late husband had seen in her eyes. Knowing that she had done that to him. The longer she thought back on it, the more reality began to bleed through her memories. The image of him on his knees, clawing at his throat with bloodied hands, would haunt her for the rest of her life. He had been so kind, so patient, he had made her feel so at ease. And she had nearly killed him.

How could he ever want her after this? How could he and his sister still be so caring? Perhaps it was for the best if the wedding didn't happen; she didn't exactly want to be married again to begin with. But even that thought didn't ease the ache in her heart. River's presence helped keep her calm, the hound's gentle strength against her side holding her together. River pressed against Mercy's leg once more as she stepped inside. She had been so focused on getting away from his gaze, on finding a moment of privacy to weep before facing him again, but his hoarse voice calling her name stopped her in her tracks.

"I should...I should go..." she protested weakly, though she made no movement to step away from him. Evgenia and the butler moved past her, set on retrieving the needed items, and Mercy let Leo guide her into the sitting room. She sat on one of the plush lounges, her spine rigid, hands clasped tightly in her lap. River whined softly, leaning against her knees and pushing her head onto her lap. She didn’t want to look at him, couldn’t bring herself to look at him, until he leaned back and she felt his eyes leave her. Then she took a moment to glimpse his form. His wounds were still bleeding, her gaze tracked a line of red as it slid down his throat into his shirt. Her stomach turned and her head spun and for a moment she thought she might be sick, quickly looking away as his eyes returned to her.

She was trembling again, or she wasn’t sure she’d ever stopped. It got worse as he tried to catch her gaze, but she couldn’t avoid it forever. He told her it wasn’t her fault, that he was sorry. But it didn’t ease the weight on her shoulders. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” she murmured, “you…you’re still bleeding…from what I did…” Mercy shook her head, looking down at her hands, “all you’ve done is be kind to me.”

Thankfully it was at that moment that Evgenia and the butler returned with bandages and tonics. Mercy sprung to her feet, gathering some items from them and beginning to lay them out on a nearby table. Anything to put space between her and Leonid, her and her guilt. Slime, pale fingers moved quickly, deftly soaking some of the bandages in the tonic. She could hear soft discussion and shuffling between Leonid and Evgenia now, though didn’t pay attention. All her focus held by her work.

Once she was satisfied with the preparation of the bandages she picked up one of the tonic soaked ones and turned to Leonid. Immediately her cheeks and chest went deep pink. They had stripped him of his bloody coat and shirt to better access the wounds , that had been the shuffling she had heard. Mercy’s mouth went dry and for a moment she was frozen, eyes locked on him and the wounds around his throat and the curve of his collarbones… But she was quick to snap out of it, fixing her eyes to the floor and moving to stand beside him. Her trembling fingers hesitated, the bandage hovering just over his wounds.

leonid's eyes snapped up at the sound of his name being called, aware that he was holding mercy's hand to clean the blood from her glove. he couldn't help but stop fear flashing in his eyes for a split second, concerned that she would startle and choke him again. though, in contrast to that, he was also relieved to see her awake.

he flinched a little himself when she pulled away, sadness gripping at his chest. then she moved far from him, and his brow creased in concern. he wanted to reach for her, to assure her it was alright, that he wouldn't hurt her- what? her shoulders trembled. she was apologizing. she wasn't afraid of him. i never wanted to hurt you. i didn't see you.

the slight doubt that had plagued him ever since he'd been on his knees left him. she hadn't wanted to hurt him, hadn't been angry at him for touching her. he opened his mouth to speak, to reassure her that things were alright, that he wasn't angry, but nothing but a gruff wince came out and he rubbed at his throat. river nudged his hand against mercy's back and he froze for a moment, waiting to see if she would react or pull away. but when she didn't, he kept his hand there, his eyes watching her intently for any distress (bar the tears already flowing down her gorgeous cheeks, which broke his heart) and he let out a long sigh. she moved then to summon her carriage, and leo wanted to press harder into her back, to push her into staying seated while she recovered, but before he could take a step back and release her, genie spoke. he shot his sister a knowing look, but an appreciative one. he wasn't sure what would have happened had his sister not been there. leo was in far too much pain to speak, and he was used to pain. he'd had far too many blows from jealous lovers or angered diplomats that his pain tolerance was high. but it seemed the defensive magic she'd used had a lasting, painful effect. he could feel her tense under his touch and when she looked back at him, his brows creased yet again in concern. he opened his mouth to try and speak, to do something to fix the situation, but genie appeared in the doorway. he nodded, but his hands shot out as mercy wobbled on her feet. he did not touch her, but even as they made their way out to the carriage and he was a little unsteady on his own feet still, he made sure to keep a close eye on her in case she fell again. he watched her all throughout the carriage ride, watching those guilt-ridden eyes and the way she shrunk into herself. if that bastard ex husband of his had harmed her, he hoped he was burning. it was impossible to deny he was still wary of being harmed, but that wasn't his sanity talking. that was his fear. rationally, he knew she had not intended to harm him. and that she was chastising herself for it over and over in her mind. he could see it in her eyes. when they finally reached the house and he heard the pain in her voice as she tried to drift away from him, he'd had enough of the silence. "m-mercy," he managed to get out, gritting his teeth from the pain of speaking. he took a few steps toward her, before shooting a look to genie that pleaded with her to assist the butler in finding the things mercy wanted for him. he didn't particularly care if he had to wait the eve to return to his home and be healed, he could not let her continue paving the way for the dark train of thought she was on. he spied a sitting room nearby, the door cracked open and the fire already going. he wondered if the butler had done that for them. he gestured towards the room. "rest-t." was all he could get out, ushering them both into the room and waiting until she sat to sit down opposite her on an opposing sofa. he leaned his head back over the edge of the seat, stretching his neck and throat and trying not to flinch at the pain. the wounds still seeped through his top, actively bleeding, but his focus was on her. he could see her mind whirling and he leaned forward, capturing her eyes before mouthing 'not your fault.' he thought she needed to see that he was not angry, see the truth in his eyes when he mouthed those words. he held a hand to his chest. "i am sorry," he mouthed again, gesturing to her hand. he had been the one to touch her, after all.

[quietstxrs]

There was a wonderful nothingness after the darkness had taken her. For a moment, she was taken from that scene, from Leonid’s blood on the floor and the pain in his eyes. Her body remained limp in his arms as he moved her into the guest room. As the cool fabric of the handkerchief met the warm skin of her cheeks, she began to slowly stir. Her hand twitched in his, and slowly her eyes slipped open. As her vision cleared, she saw Evgenia's face first, her brow pulled down, dark eyes worried. Then her gaze dropped to the hand holding her own, gently wiping away the remnants of crimson.

"Leonid," the word left her on a breath, and she quickly pulled her hand away. Her eyes lingered on those horrible marks wrapping around his throat. He still looked so hurt. Mercy moved away, dragging herself to sit on the opposite side of the bed. Her feet found the floor, and she dropped her head into her hands. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her shoulders trembling, "I'm so sorry, Leonid, I never-I never wanted to hurt you. It wasn't- I didn't see you." River slipped from the folds of her skirt, whining softly, and she wound around her legs before jumping up onto the bed. The large hound shuffled across the bed and nudged her way beneath Leonid's hand. Mercy's form stiffened when she felt the same hand warm against her back, but as River's head came to rest in her lap, she gently relaxed into the touch.

"My lady," Evgenia said softly, kneeling in front of Mercy to meet her eyes, "please allow my brother and me to escort you back to your accommodations. You need rest, and my brother's wounds need privacy to tend to." She was just like her brother, Mercy thought, with her kind and steadying words. After a moment, Mercy nodded, wiping the tears from her face, sniffling softly, "I will-I will summon my carriage." She moved to stand, but Evgenia stopped her, "Stay, I'll call for the carriage and return."

Mercy could only watch as the other woman quickly left the room, leaving her there with Leonid and River, and the weight of what she had done. Her guilt was like a fist in her throat. She could feel his hand still on her back, but she had no idea what to say, what to do. She wanted to fall apart. The silence stretched on for a painfully long time until Mercy finally worked up the courage to turn ever so slightly, meeting his gaze over her shoulder (and gods if that wasn't enough to nearly send her to her grave). She opened her mouth, though she was still unsure of what to say. How could she ever apologise enough for what she did? Thankfully, Evgenia returned before she could speak. "The carriage is ready; we should go before anyone notices our absence."

Mercy lurched to her feet, River huffing in response to the disturbance but following close behind. Mercy braced herself against one of the posts of the bed, her head still spinning from the fainting. Despite this, they were able to make it to the carriage with haste. Mercy was silent for the journey, her gaze fixed out the window, fingers stroking through River's fur, until they finally came to the front steps of the townhouse she was staying in while in the city. The front steps were framed with low-hanging wisteria and River bounded ahead as the butler opened the door for their arrival. Mercy glanced over to Evgenia and Leonid, still not quite able to meet her betrothed's eyes. "I'll fetch you some bandages and tonic for your throat," she whispered before disappearing into the dim hallways of the house.

as he couldn't get any air into his lungs, leo couldn't help but wonder how different it was to drowning, being choked. would drowning be more peaceful? the thorns dug even further into his skin and tears pricked at his eyes from the pain. mercy, he wanted to beg her, to soothe her. the way she'd looked at him.. this was a response to trauma. he knew it and he fucking hated her bastard ex husband for it. he remembered a similar look on his sister's face long ago. in fact, he heard her voice. cool hands cupped his cheek for a split second, and he could vaguely make out genie trying to pull mercy from her nightmare and back to reality. time slowed and leo squeezed his eyes shut, blood tricking down his hands as he tried to pry the metal away, but it's grip on his neck was too strong. he began to feel light headed, and the room started to dim completely - he was on the cusp of losing consciousness. great, he'd known his betrothed not one day and she was going to kill him. but just as he began to fade, the vines released and fell to the floor, reassembled in the form of his golden mask. he drew sweet, sweet air into his lungs and broke out into a coughing fit. it hurt like hell to cough and it still felt like the thorns were digging into his skin, but he was able to breathe. genie appeared at his side, almost knocking him upside the head for being so stupid as he drew desperate breath after desperate breath in between violent coughs. i'm sorry, i didn't mean- his tired, no doubt horrifying eyes from his blood vessels popping, looked up to a panicked, fearful, guilt ridden mercy. he didn't have the voice to reassure her that it was alright, that he was alright. he watched almost in slow motion as she stared at the blood on her glove. shit, he'd gotten blood all over the floor. how was he going to explain this away, even with his magic? he noticed mercy's eyes rolling and lunged himself across the slippery marble, fortunate that he was already on his knees. he caught her head just before it connected with the floor, his eyes scanning her worriedly as he continued to cough. he was surprised the situation hadn't gathered any prying eyes, but it was for the best; he knew mercy wouldn't be wanting anyone poking and prodding her. stumbling a little, he got to one knee and lifted the unconscious woman into his arms. 'cover for me,' he mouthed at his sister, slightly wobbly from lack of oxygen as his eyes flicked back and forth, making sure the coast was clear before he headed for a nearby guest room, kicking open the door with his foot and making for the bed, laying mercy down. once his hands were free he bent over the bed and pressed a hand to his throat with a wince. genie would no doubt press for him to see a healer, but he'd be fine. ignoring his own pain, he made for the attached ensuite bathroom and rinsed a handkerchief with cold water. genie appeared in the doorway then and he shot her a look as if to ask who was dealing the pool of blood in the hallway, but she waved him off, knowing if they were caught, it would look far less compromising if his sister was there and not just him and mercy, unchaperoned on a bed. he reached for the woman to dab her forehead, but a flash of pain in his throat made him hesitate. he hated that he did, but some part of him was frightened she'd wake up and have a similar reaction. his sister sensed his hesitance and reached for the handkerchief, but he swatted her hand away. no way was he letting her get hurt. he dabbed at mercy's forehead and cheeks, before moving to gently rub at the blood on her glove so she didn't have to wake up to see it once more.

[quietstxrs]

She very nearly stumbled over her feet at his words as he spun her. Jaya hadn't been expecting the admission, laughing almost nervously as her hand found his chest once again. It was hard to tell if the pounding she could feel was his heart or the thrum of her own pulse in her palm. But then he continued, and she relaxed just a touch. Her dark eyes found her sister across the dancefloor once more. Suri had moved on from her last dance partner, caught in conversation with a figure Jaya couldn't quite recognise. She was quick to turn her attention back to him as his voice dropped.

Her mouth pressed into a thoughtful line, her brow still quirked as she considered the proposition. It would certainly make it easier for Suri not to constantly explain the unwed older sister, and Jaya couldn't lie—she did have a certain fondness for the Viscount's sisters. But...she couldn't help thinking of how her heart had thrummed like a captured bird against her ribcage when he had smiled at her. Was this really the best idea? For Suri. The smile returned to her face as she made her decision, "alright, Jude, but we do it quietly, I don't want to draw attention from my sister with any...antics," she shot him a mischievous wink, "and you have to promise not to fall in love with me."

“that is precisely what i am asking, miss fontaine.” he kept his eyes locked on hers as he spun her, their hands intertwining. he resumed his proposal as she spun back into him, a hand on his chest. he wondered if she could feel his heart beating thunderously. “our priorities are both finding matches for our sisters, is it not? i do not wish to be wed, but will for the sake of my family once my sisters are cared for. but for the time being, it is difficult to keep an eye on them while trying to fend off prospective matches, especially when my sisters are the ones orchestrating the swarms.”

he lowered his voice even more, knowing there would be a great scandal if even one person was to overhear. “if we were to court for appearances sake, we would have more opportunities to find matches for our siblings, no? i would be happy to introduce your sister to viscounts, dukes, not that i do not believe she can capture their hearts on her own. but perhaps we could work together. my sisters are collaborating against me at every turn, and having someone to help guide them would be most helpful.” he left out the part where he’d particularly enjoy having such a beautiful woman on his arm.

[quietstxrs]

Though her immediate panic had been momentarily subdued she could still feel it there, prickling at the back of her mind, ready to cripple her at the smallest flinch. She needed to get out of this ballroom, away from these people. She needed the fresh, freezing air of her lake to cleanse the feeling of rot from her lungs, needed the embrace of the hills around her. The look on Leonid's face, though, made her ache like nothing else. The way his brows pinched together, the way she could see the guilt sagging on his shoulders. The way his voice had cracked ever so gently on those words, Mercy...please. It was almost enough to make her stay, but her hands were still trembling, and the longer she stood there staring at him, the worse it got.

"I'm sorry." Mercy turned from him before she could hesitate, before her past could crawl its way back up her throat and strangle her in front of him. Before she ruined everything even further. Her heels clicked in staccato against the marble floors of the corridor, the sound filling her ears and her head, the music and hum of the party growing to nothing but a low drone. She was so focused on getting out, on finding the exit, she didn't hear the footsteps trailing behind her, didn't notice Leo until it was too late.

His hand grabbed hers, and immediately, she was back in those dark halls. The only hand she could see, the only hand she could feel, belonging to her late husband. She spun, gripping his wrist instinctively. Her grip a vice on his arm. She looked at him, but her eyes were distant; she was no longer there with him, she couldn't even realise that he had let go. Frozen by her past, her fear, her rage, her magic surged forward. She was no longer a helpless, terrified doll of a wife for her husband to torment. She was the briar and the steel and the ice of the lake and the molten heat of the forge.

She stared blankly as his mask melted into vines, her magic working without instruction, acting on her instincts alone. How often had she pictured this? The life draining from her husband's face, his blood staining the stone floor, him on his knees instead of her for once. It would be so easy now to let it all end. To free herself. So easy.

There was a flash of dark hair in the corner of her eye, and then, startlingly soft, feminine hands were prying her fingers from his wrist. "You have to let him go, Mercy, you are safe here." She vaguely recognised the voice and then Evgenia Muradova's fair face swam in front of her clouded vision. The sudden appearance of the other woman in her fevered sight was enough to break her from the clutches of the flashback, and she staggered away from both of them. Leonid's mask returned to its rightful shape and clattered to the floor, and finally, Mercy could see the truth of her vision.

It was Leonid. On his knees, gasping for air. It was his blood against the marble. Evgenia was crouched over him, worriedly checking him, berating him gently for being stupid. Mercy felt sick, unable to peel her eyes from the blood, and her head spun. It was Leo. It had been him all along. He had been so kind to her, and she had nearly killed him. She didn't know what to do; her heart was pounding so hard it shook her ribcage. She took one staggering step forward, "I-I'm sorry-I didn't-I didn't mean-" her hands twitched upward and she glimpsed the specks of red against the green fabric of her glove. Her eyes went impossibly wide before darkness gathered quickly at the edges of her vision and overwhelmed her, her body crumpling to the floor.

i like you better.. like this. he blinked. his charisma aura was no longer affecting her. no one had ever told him they liked him better without his magic. it also made no sense in his head, but by gods it warmed his heart. for once, he felt like he was being seen for him and not for his status as a diplomat or for his magic. it was.. new. vulnerable feeling. but he didn't have time to dwell on that thought. mercy was shutting down and shutting him out. he felt terrible at the way she tightened her arms around herself, as if protecting her from him. she was excusing herself.

he had ruined things before they had a chance to begin. he had earned her trust, and then lost it. "mercy.. please," he was at a loss for words, unsure what to say to fix things. his heart hammered in his chest and ached at the loss of proximity. she was practically a stranger, yet he felt so pained at the idea that she no longer trusted him. he had done everything in his power to ensure she felt as relaxed as possible around him, but clearly the concept of his charisma magic scared her. he could only assume her bastard of a husband had something similar and it brought back terrible memories. guilt sank in his gut. as she left, heading out the corridor, he couldn't leave it alone. perhaps he was an idiot, or stubborn, or truly really liked the woman he had met. part of it was his duty to ensure a healthy alliance, but he'd be lying to himself if he said it wasn't really because he cared for how she was feeling and hated that he had been the cause. "mercy, please listen to me-" leo wasn't an idiot, but in that moment, he could have been called the dumbest man in witchfell. without thinking, in a flash of panic and wanting her to stop so he could soothe her and assure her that he would never harm her, he reached out and grabbed her hand. immediately he recognized his mistake, letting go, but as her hand grabbed his arm, something in her eyes changed.

leo could taste metal on his tongue and smell a tang of it in the air as his mask melted, shifting and shaping into golden vines that struck like a cobra, coiling around his throat, the thorns piercing his skin. his eyes widened in shock and fear as the golden thorns tightened, cutting off his air supply. he fell to his knees and grasped at the coils but they tightened further. he couldn't even speak, couldn't plead with her to stop or apologize for touching her. his hands bled from where they grabbed at the thorns, and his vision started to blur at the edges.

[quietstxrs]

Jaya couldn't help the way her eyebrows twitched upwards at his assertion. While it was true she wasn't looking for a husband, it didn't mean she was altogether opposed to the idea. She was more surprised that Jude wasn't in the market for a bride at all. She had assumed that as a viscount, he would feel extra pressured to marry. For the good of his family and the sake of his heritage. Or whatever it was the nobles of the ton were claiming these days.

"My lord, you almost sound like you want to court me," she teased as he lifted her into the air, laughing softly as her feet found the floor again, "not to worry, I won't tell your sisters. They seem to already have enough ammunition in the armoury."

She leaned in a touch as his voice dropped, brow quirking inquisitively at his devious tone. "And how, pray tell, would we do that?" she asked, barely suppressing a smile.

the last thing jude needed was a scandal. he should have been doing his due diligence and keeping an eye on his sisters, but he physically could not pull himself away from jaya’s presence. he was a star caught in her orbit, and she was an entire world.

“so let them talk,” he resumed their dance, a faint smile on his lips. “we both are not looking for matches. what use is dancing with prospective husbands and wives?” he lifted her into the air like the other woman on the dance floor. “though any man would be lucky to have you at his side, mischief and all.”

a thought came to him then. something perhaps a little devious and entirely inappropriate. he lowered his voice. “what if we were to use that to our advantage?”

[quietstxrs]

He wrapped an arm around her and she smirked. Cyra knew that it was likely a practicality, to be able to speak privately in a crowded room while also keeping up appearances. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy it. Her cheeks warmed as his hand grazed past to tuck one dark curl back behind her ear. She didn’t think hearing those words over and over again would have such a profound effect on her. Perhaps if it had been anyone else, it wouldn’t. But hearing Salem say it, my wife… She couldn’t deny it had something stirring in her chest. Her smile grew at his assertion of her place by his side, as his equal. “Good,” she murmured, softly, darkly, “I wouldn’t have tolerated anything less, My Prince.”

She didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to her wine dark lips, didn’t miss the low, hungry groan that escaped his lips. Cyra had grown up reading people, and Salem was quickly becoming her favourite book. She followed quickly at his side as he dragged her from the podium, ignoring anyone that tried to approach them, her attention captivated by her husband-to-be. There were many secluded, quiet alcoves within the ballroom, intended for chaperones to be able to keep an eye on their charges from afar. Salem led her to an empty one, a soft huff of air escaping her as her back was suddenly against the wall. His hand rested beside her head and he leaned in and for a moment she thought he might kiss her again. But, despite the way he stared at her lips, he didn’t. Instead his voice fell in hushed tones between them, Cyra listening intently.

She slid a hand up his chest as he spoke, letting it rest on his shoulder. When she had concocted this plan she never dreamed Salem would want to bind himself so completely to her. She had believed it would be a marriage by contract and duty only. But already he had shown his devotion, the bracelet around her wrist, the jewel on her finger and now… “I should have known the bindings of stone and contract would not be enough for you,” she murmured, using the hand on his shoulder to pull just a touch closer, her eyes flashing with a dark need at his words, “that certainly explains why you haven’t been able to look away since I sipped the whine.”

The hand on his shoulder trailed up his neck, threading through his hair as she leaned forward, her breath ghosting against jaw as she whispered, “I will bleed you and bed you and when I am done you will never want for another’s touch, dearly beloved.”

the room toasted to salem's future bride, cheers all around and those loyal to salem kneeled to cyra. he felt a flash of pride at that. she was his equal, and one day, would be his queen. they would turn this castle to ruins together, and then build it back up piece by piece. he rather enjoyed his family's reaction to stealing the spotlight, too. cyra leaned in and he smirked, wrapping an arm around her for appearance's sake, but some part of him reveled in the closeness. "it falls on them if they interpreted my glares as anything but," he murmured, unimpressed with the lack of decorum those ladies were holding, one was even on her knees sobbing. he didn't even know who she was. dearly beloved. something about his made his heart race. or was it hers? it was hard to tell the difference now that she wore the bracelet containing his blood. "my secrets have always been my own," he said in a low voice and tucked a curl behind her ear, referring to his dealings with maron, "but as my wife, you shall know what i know. you will be my equal in all things. never forget that. if anyone disputes it, kill them. anyone who disobeys or insults my wife insults me." his eyes flicked down to her red stained lips and he let out a low groan, not intending for anyone, even her to hear. but by the look in her eyes, she had. he took her hand and led her off the podium, into one of the shadowed alcoves of the ballroom before anyone could congratulate them. if anyone tried to, he'd stab them. he pressed her back to the wall and placed a hand by her head, pinning her there. his eyes were dark. to anyone, it would have looked as though they were sharing an intimate moment. part of salem wanted that to be true, especially as he stared at her stained lips. "there is a ritual i want to perform on our wedding night. for blood magic wielders, we can draw strength from the magic running through other's veins. there is a ritual where you drink from me, binding you to me in a way. it allows you to harness some of my power should you need to. it is also... incredibly pleasurable. your lips look like they're covered in my blood."

[quietstxrs]

She winked playfully at his words, her smile growing as she watched the pink on his cheeks darken. “It can hardly be helped, I’ve always been too clever for my own good. Mischief just comes naturally,” she shrugged. It was her quick wit that not only got her into trouble but also out of trouble. But Jude…maybe that was trouble she didn’t necessarily want to get out of.

He caught her hand as she moved to step away. Now it was her turn to feel her cheeks burning. The breathless notes of his voice had her heart tumbling in her chest and for a moment all words escaped her. He pulled her back in close and she thought surely he would be able to hear the pounding of her heart, or feel the rushing thrum of her blood.

“My Lord,” she started, and she could have laughed at how similar her own voice sounded to his. Breathless. “It would be quite the scandal, two dances in a row? People might talk,” even so, she let her hand settle back on his shoulder, the other settling warm into his, “they might start to think those rumours your sisters were spreading to be true.”

her words of his sisters painted a picture in his mind. her being his viscountess, running the household and being a role model for his sisters. he shook his head to clear the thought from his mind and cleared his throat, surprised at the imagine he'd conjured. "you do seem inclined to get up to mischief, miss fontaine." that had come out far flirtier than he had intended, and his cheeks burned slightly. i am aware of my worth. gods, could this woman be any more attractive? one single night was making him reconsider his whole stance on marriage. but he had that rule in place for many reasons. his sisters were his priority. and after seeing the love his parents shared for one another, he could not subject a wife to a life at home while he worked both as a viscount and a lawyer. he would hardly ever see her. it would not be fair. but as she stepped away, he found himself reaching for her hand. "not a single one," he breathed, lying through his teeth, but he did not care. he could not end their night like this. the music swelled again and the dance floor burst to life once more. he pulled her in. "that dance was not long enough, miss fontaine. do me the honour of continuing it."