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royal-writer · 5 years

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Just say you won’t let go

I met you in the dark, you lit me up you made me feel as though I was enough

She couldn’t shake off the trepidation that told her they weren’t going to get out of this one. The smell of fear was burning in her lungs with each ragged breath she took. A sour acidic flavor churned in her stomach, rising up into her throat. There was no safe place to pause; no where to rest and ease the fire in her muscles that begged for rest as the sound of clanking footsteps followed.

Sprinting to the left and to the right, whirling past pedestrians and salesmen peddling their wares, she ran. There was no thrill in the adrenaline. Only panic, even as the shouts of anger from the near-impacts chased after her more than the fading echo of predators on her tail.

Essätha squeezed by the nearest stall and into an alleyway. She panted for air, gulping it down hungrily. The whirlwind tangle of her knotted hair stuck to the nervous sweat that dampened her forehead, obscuring her sight. She pushed the dark ringlets aside wearily. A flash of red fabric and a dark shadow blurred into focus and the Yuan-Ti reached out, snagging the lightweight cloak of the figure before they could pass her hiding spot. The medallion holding the garment in place strained, but didn’t unlatch. It choked the individual, who stumbled as she released them and nearly collapsed to their knees before leaning heavily to the nearby wall.

Her eyes moved tensely down the avenue as more phantom figures began to dash into hiding. A smog of wispy violet formed around her shaking fist like a sudden storm. Her jaw clenched, and began to relax as the curls of magic blooming up her arms began to evaporate from her rigid fingers.

“Take a breather, kid,” she puffed. Wobbly on shaky limbs, she advanced further into the darkness of the side street. Her eyes moved all around them, above them, to the front and back of the alley in search of danger that might yet be stalking them.

Ravamora wheezed, which sounded like the closest thing to an answer she was going to get. She leaned heavily into the brick building to their right, giving Essätha the room to pass her. The young elf girl looked exhausted, and she regarded the sentiment in equal measure. The volume of her afro had increased tenfold into one enormous mop of turbulent deep umber.

Using the cover of the wall for balance, Essie approached the newly arrived characters with a sigh. “Sulhadur, Adela, have you seen anyone else?”

Adela jumped. Her tail tucked nervously against her legs as she reached for the heavily armored Paladin, giving a short shake of her head. The lone earring she still had dangled and flashed in the light of the sun bouncing off the Dragonborn’s armor; the other nowhere in sight. She looked as though she’d just climbed out of bed. Hair tousled, wild eyes, missing jewelry and her shirt ruffled like she’d been restlessly tossing and turning.

“Penimra and Abe turned left from us, I lost sight of them.”

“Pri, Amon, and Aylin were behind us when we scattered,” Sulhadur rumbled, casting a glance behind himself. “I don’t know where they went to.

She frowned and squeezed around the bulky armored scaly lad as he spoke. He grunted, pressing a hand to Adela’s backside gently and the other to her shoulder. His claws dug into her flesh anxiously, ready to haul her back at a moment’s notice.

“Essätha.”

He wasn’t fast enough to clamp his fingers down and hold her firmly in place as she slipped out of the protection of the alley. She just wanted a better look.

A wall collided with her in a flurry of limbs and yelps. Thrown bodily to the ground, her butt immediately hurt more than her aching calves as she hit the stone walkway.

“Oh, Jubäta.”

Whimpering, her eyes moved up to the heavy furry animal standing over her. They let out a pitiful apologetic whine for knocking her over. Droopy jowls dangling before her eyes, and a slobbery tongue rolled out to lap with concern at the sticky perspiration on her forehead.

“Lord Caesar, no,” she groaned, pushing at the mastiff’s bulky head. He stepped over her, and her sense of smell was grateful for the aroma of the city over the dog breath that had been wafting over her face. Or the weight of the beast, which was doing nothing for her bruised tailbone and collapsing lungs.

Sul stepped out from the security of cover, grabbing carefully hold of the hound’s spiked collar. Caesar huffed like a dejected puppy, sulking after the Dragonborn as Aylin came bounding down the lane in their direction. Behind him, their golden cleric was running as fast as their short legs could carry.

Essätha flipped over to her palms to crawl a short distance and accept Adela’s offered hand of assistance. They gathered back into the shadows, with two more still compressing themselves to the narrow passage.

“M’lord Amon?” Essie wheezed. Her palms fiddled nervously together as she tried peering out at the road, expecting to see the older nobleman hurtling valiantly by.

“He went looking for Abe and Penimra,” the small Thri-Kreen rekmarked while trying to spring open their tightly coiled antenna and adjust their flowing maroon robes. “The traitorous guards were right behind them. I am sorry; I would have followed him, but he fled into the crowd too fast. This one saw which direction Aylin headed to follow Caesar, and choose to keep the more vulnerable party member safe.”

“The dog was the least likely one to lead us into danger,” Aylin stated matter-factually. “I knew he would follow his master’s orders to find Essätha. There was a chance that would connect us up with larger numbers, and I was right.”

She winced as the dragon placed a hand to her arm, distracting her from the masked-mans words. His touch was faint, but it startled her as dappled orbs of light and glow began to encircle her limb. It washed into her golden skin, illuminating her. The pain in her back eased as well as her bum from the collision with the dog, and with the ground.

He sent Caesar to come find her?

Her heartbeat jolted fearfully. She knew she should be touched at the consideration, but there was no room for the feeling in her chest.

What happened, if the trio got captured? What happened if they were killed? They weren’t together. She wasn’t there to protect them. This was a disaster, this was all a complete fucking mess.

Aylin squished himself to the side of the building to move past her numbed statue-like pose. The murmurs of the voices around her were muffled. In the back of her head she knew she should join their concerns. Checking on each other, reassuring that everything would be okay. Coming up with a plan as a group no less would be the most productive matter. But she couldn’t shake the terror of knowing they were out there, alone.

“We have to tell Queen Morwen about the guards; she’s not safe,” Essie mumbled, vaguely aware of the movement of her own lips.

“That’s a big duh, Essie,” Ravamora reported with a deadpan gaze.

“I knew there was something off about them,” Adela chipped in, rubbing her hands self-consciously up and down her arms. “I could feel it. They gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

“You get these heebie-jeebies about everything,” Aylin purred. He grinned, the holes in his mask changing over from a blank slate gray to a harmonious sunny disposition of gold. Out of all of them, only the bard of course still looked stunning. His marble-like pale chest reflected with just enough sheen to look attractive, rather than dingy.

Clearing their throat politely, Pri’cha raised both arms on the left side of their body to wave them around for attention while chirping: “It is not a matter of who was right and who was wrong. We know that the cult of the Raven Lord has invaded the palace, and that puts the Queen, the city, and the country in great danger. It is highly likely that the guards who following are going to be on high alert, and any spies they have in the capital will be searching for us as well, if they aren’t already.”

Taking a deep breath, Essätha nodded with understanding. “You’re absolutely right. We have to focus. We need to stay together. But we need to get access to Her Highness, before something terrible happens.”

In an eruption of voices, Sulhadur began to speak at the same time as Rava. They paused, tried to start again, and Adela jumped in to speak over them both. Aylin began to grow frustrated, and tried to barge in on the elf child’s defense so she could get a word in. Their priestess watched helplessly, trying to soothe them all with curt tugs on the sleeves and hems of their attire to bring them to order once more.

Essie rolled her eyes at the commotion, and they fell upon Caesar who was staring up at her. His big ears flopped low and wrinkles tugged down by gravity into a worrying frown. Patiently waiting and watching.

Debate later, action now.

“Caesar. Caesar my sweet boy,” she cooed, gesturing to the enormous pooch. He wagged his tail stiffly with worry as he approached her. Her fingertips grazed the top of his head while kneeling down low, looking into the beast’s beady dark eyes. He was smart; smarter than they gave him credit for. Perhaps...

“Lord Caesar, can you find daddy for me? Where’s daddy? Find Lord Amon. Find him.”

“Aroof,” he wisely answered, shaking his body from side to side so loose hairs floated off him. He turned to trot around her, forcing space between and around people’s legs.

Trotting after him, Essätha turned to glance back at the deliberating group to hiss: “Come on. We need to find the others.”

They exchanged glances, and swallowed their words. Only Adela offered her a look that seemed irate with being bossed around, but there was no objections. No one was willing to leave anyone behind to be captured, maimed, or eliminated. They’d made it too damn far, seen too much, became closer than the bonds of family in some cases.

Grouping together, the dread of the open streets yawned before them as they left the safety of the tight space. Hair’s on the back of Essie’s neck stood up with nervous awareness as she tiptoed cautiously out after the furry mammoth of a hunting companion.

There was no telling how many eyes of these strangers glancing their way were simple civilians. They didn’t have a clue how many people in the Queen’s court were safe to try gaining access to Her Majesty after the confrontation. They were in danger as much as the nobility, and the people in this city. Once misstep; one word spoken out of place, and they could be drawing targets on themselves and any kind soul who offered them sanctuary or a word of help. The die were not in their favor.

With the click of Caesar’s toenails on the road worn and smooth from years of use leading them, they followed in a huddled, tense group. Sul remained in the back; far behind her and the canine leading them, and Rava and Pri’cha flanking the other two caster’s hidden among their ranks

Weaving in and out of the throngs of people going about their daily lives and business, Essie kept her weary eyes moving. She forced a smile to anyone who stared a moment too long in their direction, trying to formulate questions on such an odd group of individuals. Or maybe they were more concerned with their appearances; with large sacks and weapon hilts dangling beneath their cloaks and wrapped in their belts. Adventurers weren’t exactly unheard of, brazen crooks could just as easily manipulate the look to situate their needs.

They moved along avenues and streetcorners through more vacant areas of the city into more populace ones. Lifting his head, Caesar circled the same spot a few times, and turned to look up at her.

“Boof.”

“Which way, Caesar? Find m’lord Amon,” she pleaded.

The mastiff whimpered, placing his nose to the ground. He inhaled deeply a few times. Trotting left, then right, he snuffled the filthy pavement for clues. He’d head one way for a moment as if he was growing confident, then turn around and start again.

“I think he lost the scent,” Ravamora remarked in a hush. “There’s a lot of people around here.”

Doubt began to trickle in. As her shoulders visibly fell, Caesar froze in place. His tail erected in a serious disposition, and then began to lash like a violent whip. With renewed interest and vigor, he took off bolting down the lane with more grace and speed then one would expect of such a lumbering beast.

City residents parted the way for them with squawks and curses as they barreled through. Essätha tried to shout an apology where she could, running breathless in chase after the dog as he charged down the path. He hooked a hard left. Flying around mobs of people shopping, walking, carrying their goods, he carved the way through them. People scrambled to get out of the way.

Taking a right and another left, the mastiff lead them down a deserted lane. He bellowed a tremendous bark, cause a head popped up from beneath a set of discrete set of stairs that lead to a low-level shop.

Her heart jumped into her throat.

Amon was the first to scramble out, barely missing knocking his head against a sign hanging a short distance from the stairwell’s entrance. It showed a very suggestive figure of a tiefling on it. Night club. A perfect time of day to utilize the area, with the sun hanging above, no one was going out to such a location anytime soon.

As Abe helped Penimra squeeze his corpulent frame up the narrow steeple, Caesar went hurtling to his master. He headbutted the nobleman’s leg full-charge, forcing him to stumble back. Amon kept from falling by grasping a hand into the dense coat of the dog’s dense fur to keep from hitting the ground. There was just enough time for him to recover his stance, plant his feet, and take the sudden impact of a second being to smack into him.

Essätha dug her fingers into his shoulderblades, and breathed a shaky rush of heavy air into his chest. The aroma of home awakened her senses. A quiet pine forest and dewy morning grass, with the faintest hint of rose oil. The friction of his kept beard nuzzled the top of her head as he squeezed her firmly in return, right over the thunder of his heartbeat. A billowing breath of relief fanned across her as he held her close.

“Oh thank the gods,” she breathed, leaning back. Her eyes moved over the pleasant bliss of his elated expression. Over the curve of his mouth tugged up in the corner, to his broad nose, the shine in his eyes that were like twilight where she found herself in a steady realm. The calm of the ocean’s depths; immersed in an inky black, where few came to see the fascinations at the bottom of the sea and feel the serene safety of bioluminescence life all around you, or the soft rippling sand beneath toes kicked up as you dove and swam the valleys of a mysterious world.

Relaxing her death-grip from Amon’s back, she turned to meet Abe’s friendly smile and extend a hand out towards him. He swallowed her fingers in his palms, patting her scaly patch gently. A twinkle glimmered in his eye and his ponytail had fallen apart. Cascades of white seafoam seemed to spill over the teal color of his skin.

“Thanks for nothing,” Pen grumbled irritably, finally turning to them while wheezing for breath. He places a hand to a critical hip, glancing down at the stairs as he continued, “I was hoping to wait for this place to open.”

“Penimra, that’s a uh, lady’s stripper club. You do know that, right?” Adela stated, pointing up at the club’s sign.

The warlock’s eyes narrowed behind his mask, inspecting the feminine shape of the figure. His big pointed ears drooped, and his shoulders sagged. He released his dignified posture, and in doing so he slouched and sank into his neck like a man turning to a withering husk.

“Oh. That’s disappointing.”

While Aylin gave the high-elf a sympathetic pat, Essie’s gaze panned over the group. Surveying them up close, no one appeared hurt. It allowed her to relax, feeling the rhythmic circles of a gentle hand moving along the slope of her spine. She turned her face up towards him, grateful for her beloved Lord’s thoughtfulness.

“We’ll have to think of another means inside,” Amon reported, his voice carrying with authority. “We’ll draw attention trying to go through the front gates again. It’s hard to know who we can trust to take us directly to Her Majesty Morwen. The first person we make contact with could be another worshiper of the Raven Lord’s cult.”

“I could try finding us a safe way in,” the smallest elf chimed in, rubbing her hands together like a goblin out to steal lunch.

“Rather than risk you being captured alone, maybe we should try something else?” Adela advised. “Look for an underground group of thieves and information traders; maybe see if there’s any gossip about any prisoners who got into the citadel before? We could narrow it down and try paying someone off to find access in.”

“I can’t believe the following for that maniac has infiltrated the capital,” Essie mumbled. If they were hiding in plain sight, right around Queen, posing as guards and devoted council, where else were they? Where weren’t that? What signal were they waiting for from the Raven Lord to act?

An ominous growl reverberated through the youngest Paladin. His watchful glare moving up and down the street pinpointed a group of men wearing the Queen’s banner colors moving down the road, heading briskly in their direction. Nothing written in their faces exactly said hostile, but neither did it say friendly. And judging by their pace alone, one could say that any which way, it wasn’t good news they were bringing.

Caesar raised his hackles, mimicking the threatening snarl in the back of his throat to Sul’s own. Fur rippled up to stand along his spine as he bared his teeth menacingly at the approaching group.

“Move now, talk later.”

Heeding Sul’s words, Essätha clenched her hand to Amon’s as the group made a dash down the street once again. This time, she was determined not to let anyone them fracture and split up.

The callused lines of Lord Amon’s hands she knew so intimately held to her with vice-like strength. It was a comfort as they took the winding roads and shot through the alleys, the number of guards seemed to increase with every turn. The more that seemed to materialize in doorways and around corners, the less they followed. Instead, their eyes were the trackers; their numbers closing in around them.

“Why aren’t they attacking?” Pri’cha inquired, their mace bouncing at their hip despite their lower hands trying to keep it from jumping too much.

“Because they don’t want to start a scene,” Abe gruffed informatively. “We’ve still not been charged with anything; it would look suspicious for them to arrest fabled heroes in front of a crowd of people.”

A scene.

They didn’t want to make a scene.

“I know what we need to do!” Essie announced, panting heavily. Her eyes fixated on Amon, then looked nervously around the others as she stammered, “We need to head to the market street, where it’s the most busy and there’s lots of eyes.”

The nobleman nodded, escorting them to the left as he rasped, “It’s this way.”

“You gonna give us a heads up on this plan?” Pen snorted, trying to catch his breath.

As they cut through a vacant lane, Pri’cha let out a squeak as a bold woman dressed in civilian garb jumped for them. The bug’s feet staggered, reaching for their mace as they were knocked back by the impact. Before they could deliver a blow, however, the red dragon stampeded straight into the woman, leaving her laying sprawled out in a daze on the streets. Caesar snapped his jaws in her direction as they passed with an audible click as the spy scrambled backwards to avoid his teeth.

They were getting bolder, Essie realized with dismay. Before long there would be no where safe to run. They’d herd and carol them right where it benefited them the most, out of sight of prying eyes to take care of business.

As they headed for the heart of the city square, a mass of armored men stood watch before the market. They formed a human chain, blocking much of their view of the stalls and merchants. One guard gestured towards them as they thundered down the road, getting the entire band of false watchmen to turn their attention on to them.

Close enough.

Yanking Amon’s hand, Essätha turned to him abruptly. He faltered to a stop, mouth hanging open and gasping for air like the rest of them as they clumped up into a crash collision meters away from the human barricade.

This would have to do, and she prayed it worked and drew in the desired crowd.

“Propose to me!”

A deep maroon color deepened the flush already in the Illiad heir’s face from running. He balked at her, as a unified gasp murmured through the rest of the noisy bastards.

“What-?”

Digging her fingernails into his hands, she hissed with insistence, “Pretend to propose. Do it. It’ll draw attention, and where there’s a crowd, there’s chaos. We can use confusion to our advantage. They won’t be able to drag us willy nilly with onlookers surrounding us.”

His mouth worked, but Amon could only release a choking sound similar to that of a man laboring for a last breath. The clench in his jaw tightened with a reflexive memory as he turned to look at the troops now beginning to close in on their position, and around to the rest of their friends huddled close. Their faces fierce; many tense with hands poised and ready to grab the nearest weapon or in Abe’s case, to the mastiff’s collar.

Finally, his gaze circled back around to land on her.

Different emotions moved in the space between them like a twister. Fear, then anxiety, followed finally by acceptance. The nobleman’s throat jumped as he swallowed thickly, squaring off his shoulders in preparation. He breathed out raggedly, taking a step back to timidly lower himself to one knee.

It seemed to slap her stupid, how wildly insane this idea was. She hardly seemed to notice the shadows of their friends, taking a respectful step back as she became lost in the gentle lines of Lord Amon Thomas Illiad’s face, and the brimming light reflected from his adoring regard and up to her. It was sincere and honest, like the sun that you knew was always there, even when you couldn’t see it.

He smiled. It was genuine and tender, and tugged on her every heart string as she released a startled gasp. The sound was as real as his well manicured beard, the texture of his linens, the easy smile creasing around his cheeks, and the warm love in his face. More real were his eyes she found herself lost within for what seemed like the millionth time. They were real as time itself, and all things that would come after.

His hand was real, as it took one of hers. Each ridge worn rough from combat, but his strength was careful and delicate. He held to her hand with just enough pressure to keep her steady, least she float away into the clouds of seventh heaven from such dizziness.

She knew that even if this nut-brained failed, someway somehow, she would be okay. Everything would be okay.

“Oooohh my gossshhhh,” Adela cried aloud, cupping her face with her hands. “Isn’t that adorable?”

A faded rose color began to burn into Essätha’s face. She shyly glanced away, and back to Amon as people began to turn towards the squeals, awes, and quiet forced sobbing of their friends. At least, she thought it was forced. It was too muffled by the drum of her beating heart to be sure.

The Lord of the Emerald Expanse opened his mouth, and closed it. He swallowed, and captured her eyes in his own. Gaping at the light tawny butterscotch, his anxiety seemed to melt the remainder of its icy grasp away. He fished into his waist coat pocket, never removing his eyes from hers as he produced a small velvet box.

Essie no longer heard the shuffling feet of onlookers prying close, following the squeal of Adela’s voice. She no longer heard their friends. She only heard her heart as it leapt to her throat, and the gasps her lungs would allow her as she lost the ability to breathe.

He looked stunningly handsome. Slightly vulnerable, his hand shaking and eyes gentle and imploring as he tightened his grasp upon her. He fumbled for half a second with both hands to open the ring box, and reveal the impressive ring situated carefully inside.

She didn’t even look at the ring. The only thing that captured her attention from it was the glint it gave off from the sun’s rays, and nothing more. The real thing she wanted, that the very core of her soul reached for with feverish longing, was the look in his face. That otherworldly happiness, the fondness and want that couldn’t be replicated. He looked at her, and it changed his entire appearance. The rigid stiffness was lost, his face smoothed and relaxed, the tightness in his scrutinizing eyes faraway with thought became sharply attuned to her. As cool and dark as their color, they seemed to scorch her skin as he looked upon her, burning her face and down to her throat with a dark blush.

He didn’t need to say a word. His expression said it all, and she was mesmerized. Entranced; in awe with a hand to her chest and her fingers curled within a protective hand as his thumb glided and traced between her knuckles, and up over the scales on the back of her hand. Smooth and gliding, gentle as the breeze.

Maybe she shouldn’t have made him do this. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Suddenly the guards did not matter; their friends, the crowd. The moment mattered. He mattered.

And she wanted this in ways she never thought she could. In feelings she couldn’t even describe, that made her eyes well up as her breath hitched. It was too real. The way his eyes moved over like velvet strokes of his callused hands, the way his tongue nervously moved over his lips, the shake in his hands that only eased when their gazes met. She felt it all. His every breath was in her lungs; tasting of ambrosia hope and yearning dreams.

He opened his mouth, and it startled her before the first word even came out, how instant the answer was in the back of her mind. Picturing quiet nights by the hearth, the winding roads of Briarton, the endless supply of books and laughter. His laughter most of all, and the smile he’d wear every day that made her insides turn to goo.

“Miss Essätha Meduza,” Lord Amon whispered, his voice soft and silken. It was spoken only to her, only for her, with love and commitment. It came with the embrace of his hand holding hers a little tighter in a way that told her all that she already knew. That his words were honest and true. That what he said next, it would all be hers. That even with his heart lay bare before a crowd of strangers, his intentions were only made with honor and authenticity. Not for the people, this was all for her.

Yes. Yes a thousand times, she wanted to cry, gripping her fingers into his palm.

“From the day I met you, I knew you were an incredible woman with a merciful and patient heart,” he rasped thickly. “You’ve showed the world great kindness, even when it held a wall to you. Your devotion to caring for others has been one of the most admirable traits I’ve ever witnessed. You blind me and silence me all at once with awe, yet invite to reveal to me a side of the world I only ever saw in glimpses, now revealed to me through your guiding hand.”

“It is a place of light and of color, filled with selfless actions and understanding. You are the patron goddess of the kind of world I want to make. Filled with thoughtful actions; calm and careful, gentle and generous. You give and you give; showing the world the beauty of your heart and baring your soul with every good gesture you bestow.”

The nobleman soothed his fingertips against the back of her hand. A deep, massaging gesture pressed into the soft tissue in swirling circles that dragged the air out of her lungs.

Essie was at a loss for words. She had fallen too far into his eyes. It was no trap. It was shelter; safe and warm. And the people around them; distant as they were, couldn’t even see it. They had no idea to the pull, the power of his gaze and the places it took her to. Outsiders looking in, and all they saw was an aristocratic gentleman kneeling, and the scaly commoner woman he was proposing to. They didn’t see the beauty she saw in this man, or the light radiating from the very essence of who he was.

The nobleman brought her hand closer, his voice wavering as he continued: “You have given me so much. Joy beyond measure, conversations filled with intellect and wit, laughter worth more than all the riches of the world, second chances and courage. You have given me my ambition back, which burns brightest with your encouragement. I believe in the possibility of things, and feel free to be myself and to openly question even the most mundane thought without ridicule. You have given me your loyalty, your companionship, your trust even when you were afraid of how I would react, because the world had taught you not to trust.”

“I want to give back, to the inspiring woman I adore, every day,” Amon murmured. “I appreciate all that you are, Essätha. I see in you your charm, beauty, good intentions and will. I want to show the world how you make me better; and be the partner you deserve to have by your side. I want to stand by your side. I want to have your back. I want to be the one who is there, tucked in bed with you at night. I want to listen to your dreams, and help achieve them. I want to be there for you when it feels too heavy to carry to help brace the load, and to share your smile and chase happiness when there’s not a care in the world. You make me believe in everything. Anything. That all things are possible, if we try.”

“And I don’t want to just be Lord Amon Thomas Illiad, anymore,” he choked. The tears swimming in her eyes were no longer just in hers, anymore. They were reflected in her beloved Lord’s. Dense and wet, filling up the corners of his eyes.

“I want to be your m’lord Amon. I want to go on that next grand adventure, with you. I want you, Essätha Meduza, more than anything. I want you in my life, always. To have and to hold. To cherish and to love. To share my quiet mornings with, drowsy before my coffee. To share my afternoons with. Wherever we need go, we go together, hand in hand. To share my evenings with, enoying a meal for two and a lifetime of stories and merriment that leaves our faces hurting from all the smiles and laughter. To share my nights with, rolled up together, and knowing no matter what happens everything will work out; every day will be better than the last, because I have you.”

“We could walk that uncharted path, together. I could face it all, with you. I believe in you and I. It’s an open road, filled with twists and turns and we’ll never know what lies ahead, but I don’t fear the unknown. I have no second guesses; no what-ifs. My future is where you are; wherever you go, for you will always have my heart, and I will always be at your side. Always.”

“I ask you to be my friend, my lover, my partner and my dependable equal in all things; in this life and what lay beyond it,” he announced, a sound of vigorous strength returning to his tone that grated with the intensity of his emotion. “I ask you, Essätha Meduza, to be mine, as I am already yours. Will you do me the greatest honor and privilege, of being my wife? Will you marry me, my darling Essie?”

The future was not carved in stone. The world was never made with guarantees. At least, not for her.

But looking into his face, his features whispered to her promises and vows, only meant for her eyes. His words only meant to resonate the way that they did, in her ears. There were things said and unspoken even now, where no language could explain or come close to defining the way he looked at her now. Tremendous love and respect; it said he would hold her hand to that brilliant and shining future, and he would never let it go. Through the good and through the bad, he would be there.

With all of her being, she trusted him. His every word, his every breath. He pledged to her his heart, his acceptance, his life and all time, his commitment to her and her alone. All his flaws, all that he had. And he meant it. He would hold nothing back. He would be there for her through it all, forever hers.

The group of eavesdroppers had turned into a swarm. The court of the Raven Lord began to melt back into the shadows, grimacing at a missed opportunity. Too many eyes and ears on one spot. The marketplace itself was beginning to spill out into the side road to see the proposal. They couldn’t risk the reveal this early, when the king was close to checkmate.

Bashful from sweet words and humiliated by the stray tears on her cheeks, Essätha brought her hand from over her heart to wipe her face. The grin she wore was foolish and broad as she flexed her fingers to his gentle hand with conviction.

“Yes,” she crooned softly. In her chest, she was distinctly aware of the enlightened sensation of floating. She was untouchable; flying high, lost in the banks of clouds and an endless sun burning inside her. Every fiber of her being sang in a chorus; yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

Amon’s boots slid across the pavement with enough zealous to nearly have his scrambling face-plant in the street. It was so real. It was all so real, the jubilee in the air, the ecstasy of his expression. It was easy to forget that it was not.

The world was drowning in cheers and shouting. Whooping and whistling. She couldn’t be sure he heard her as he reached for her, and although she expected the frenzied kiss of hysterical joy, his hands were light as he placed the ring box back into his pocket and came to her face. They were extraordinarily and incredibly soft; like he was handling a fine antique worth more than all the world’s gold. Careful not to shatter. Just enough to hold her cheeks with the barest touch, and wipe carefully around her eyes.

Faint as the beat of a butterfly’s wings, she whispered in a hush, only to him, “You already have all of me, m’lord. The answer is yes. Infinitely and always, yes.”

He leaned in with a breathless sigh. Relief. Want. Desire in his eyes, and the drawn out ‘aww’s and squeals of friends and strangers around them as he brushed a tender, soulful kiss of affection to her lips. The kind that made her shiver; outlined to the shape of his mouth, leaning in to him, steady and reliable. The softness of his awaiting breath as her arms looped around his neck to encourage him eagerly closer, and inhale him. The gentleness of his lips, and she dissolved. He scorched her from the inside; etched in her bones, lighting her into a scalding inferno that burned hotter than the planet’s core but didn’t burn.

How strange it was, to care so deeply for another. To trust without a shred of doubt. And to want what once felt like a fantastic dream, knowing what she was. Her own people disgusted by her own ideals. The world rightfully weary of something folks hissed about in warning to children, explaining how if they weren’t good a Yuan-Ti might just gobble them up.

But Essätha wanted this. This moment could last eternally, and it would be enough. She believed in him. She trusted her Lord Amon with her life, her secrets, her insecurities. She trusted him with her heart; still learning, still growing. There was still so much learning for her to do, but every moment with him, she became more of herself. True and authentic. Unashamed, confident, powerful. She could be crazy and enthusiastic around him. Wild chaos, juvenile actions, silly comments and poor jokes, and he loved her. He honestly, openly, sincerely loved her for being her; just how she was and with the changes she may undergo with time.

It was everything she hungered for. It was the easiest yes of her life.

Even if it wasn’t real.

They smiled against each other, sharing soft pecks in front of a throng of eyes. But the ones she was staring into were the best and brightest of all, and the only ones she could give in to; weak-kneed and willing to boldly love and adore with all of herself.

Amon placed a hand to her waistline then as they turned to the crowd. She had great difficulty releasing her giddiness. Still turned into his side, a hand to his mid-back and the other to his chest while her eyes devoured his marvelous features. Such perfect structure in his face, and what a captivating eyes and wonderful smile that she still yet wanted to kiss over and over and over again.

“Congratulations!”

“Well done!”

“That was beautiful!”

Flush, she rested her head against Amon’s shoulder as the deafening applause continued. Her eyes skimmed through the many faces: from Abernathy’s dark blue face stained with tears, to Adela’s sage nod of approval, Rava’s stupified look and Pri’cha’s shocked mandibles spread wide and beyond.

Then she stiffened, watching Sul bare his teeth to a man that slipped past Penimra whom was sulking with his arms crossed, and straight in their direction. Aylin reached out for the stiff collar of their coat, but the Dragonborn was quick to snatch the Drow’s arm away before he could touch the cloaked figure. It was a gesture of warning, not wanting to cause any advances from the Queen’s facade guards waiting to pounce.

Her dearly beloved nobleman’s fingers hooked tighter against her side, dragging her nearer. His smile was as forced as her own now as the man respectfully bowed their head before them. When he spoke, it came out a whisper but deep; rumbling like thunder before a storm.

“Best wishes to the happy couple,” the dark-haired man uttered low. “That was very clever. I’m sure that we will be in touch. Every engagement deserves a surprise wedding gift. May your time together be… ceremonious, and worthwhile. While you have it.”

She was astonished how calm Amon’s expression remained before the spy. His steadfast placid nature was in his posture, but she could feel the weight of the threat in his arm. He pulled her closer still; the bite of his fingers firmly engraved in her side. Creases around his mouth became tighter, and the color of his lips lighter with tension through the bluff of peace he masked before the Raven Lord operative.

“You dare to threaten us?” Amon murmured beneath his breath, leaning towards the man with a sneer. “Tell your master to come offer his empty threats himself. His is invited and more than welcome to delivery his words of gratitude on his own behalf. We would be happy to see him.”

“And tell him I hope he kept the receipt for the gift,” Essie added in a sugary sweet tone, batting her eyelashes. “It’s going to be returned. With interest.”

The servant of the Whispering Shadows smirked at them with mocking, and bowed politely once more. He turned to pass through the herd once more, only to find seven sets of eyes piercing into him. The noisy bastards collected into a barrier encircling the man’s escape, their faces grim and menacing.

He waited with unnerving patience. Still grinning as finally, Sul stepped aside with a scoff to allow the villain to pass. They had not nearly enough evidence to start a quarry here, in front of all these civilians. It would start a panic. People would get hurt. The entirety of the Queen’s guard; both those secretly entwined with the Raven Lord and those committed to Her Majesty, would have every reason to lock them up for brawling in the street. Their accusations unheard, and before they could get a word of warning out or surround the Queen for protection, they would be tossed in the dungeons.

The city would be left more vulnerable than it already was. Effectively arrested, and no longer able to move the across the chess board. The defiant last line of defense between a madman and the way of life they knew, vanished.

As the miscreant passed, their friends moved close to embrace them as the edges of the crowd began to disperse and thin. Abe, closest to them, growled quietly: “We need to make a fast exit, while we still have cover from the crowd and the gossip of the city’s attention on our side.”

Essätha nodded, much with the rest of her comrades as they broke themselves free of the mass and squeeze past the onlookers. Even Amon, who dropped his arm from her side only to hesitantly take her hand.

She glanced to him. His expression fierce briefly, as he searched the crowd. Then distracted; like he was focused with great interest on something far, far away from here.

With a squeeze on his hand, she encouraged him along through the mob of congratulatory people slowly moving back down the streets once more. Her smile ever genuine, as Amon moved up to be near to her and accept the kind gestures with dignity and thankfulness. Eager greetings, and even more fervent replies. He passed her a sentimental smile here and there, moving to brush a romantic kiss to the back of her hand as they moved through the city. Eyes twinkling warm with devotion. A sign of benevolence to the grip holding her hand.

It was real. Him. What they shared. It was all so very, very real.

But she had to remind herself, and the small quivering disappointment in her fragile heart, that the engagement was not.

And the truth was a very hard pill to swallow.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was dark out, but clear to see. The moon a waxing gibbous; her glow helping to light the warehouse outside the city they had taken refuge in for the night. The only other glow was the lantern dimmed low for just enough ghastly light to add a sense of security in the old building that creaked ominously in the night. The masses of their group huddled around close to its flames that provided no warmth, with their bedrolls unfurled like a sleepover in a circle all around it.

Essie waited as patiently as she could for Amon to return back to their shambling camp. He’d taken Caesar with him whilst mumbling something about patrolling the exterior of the building. Her mind was working too fast. Pondering away at the day’s events, and the things that made no sense within it. But it had been a long day, and maybe in her excitement, her mind was tricking her.

“I’m going to go check on Amon.”

No one looked up to her. Many of them sleeping, and those who were not going in a drowsy half-awake state. Weapons kept watchfully close to them as they meditated or ate their rations with growing dissatisfaction in their features.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Rava pointed out. “He brought Caesar with him.”

“But he’s been gone a while,” she trailed off. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe she was being too curious, and butting into his space too much. It had been a very eventful day, and she’d really thrust the spotlight on him…

“Go to him.”

She raised her head, staring tiredly in Penimra’s direction. The flickering gloom of the dancing fire left shadows streaked across his bulky mask.

“Excuse m-”

“Go,” he gruffly stated, turning his face quickly away from her. “It’ll be quieter around here anyway if you’re not here to whine… and you’ll get the answers you want.”

Her smile lifted as she looked to the warlock. He was quick to turn his masked face away from her, and avoid the appreciative regard she gave him. It gave her the last little incentive push; more his wording than his tone. The high-elf seemed to understand her position for reasons she didn’t understand but had no urge to question. And with his encouragement, she dusted herself off and got off her bedroll to prowl into the awaiting darkness.

She walked through the large building, squeezing past boxes and barrels to make her way to the front. The double-doors had been left open a crack, letting in of the cooler night air. There was a hint of cedar and rose wafting in, and that of dog. It brought a smile to her lips as she laid a hand to one of the doors and eased it gradually open to see Amon’s silhouette standing outside while the hinges squeaked.

Caesar’s head jerked up and whirled towards her. He let out a greeting boof, wriggling his body as he went from sitting to standing beside his master. It alerted the nobleman to her presence, as he removed his hand from the top of the canine’s head to glance back towards her.

Essätha cleared her throat sheepishly. “Seen anything unusual out here?”

Amon smiled nervously. “No, unless you were to count seeing a heavenly being as unusual.”

“Uh-huh. That does sound rather unlikely, m’lord,” she laughed, slipping out of the stockroom.

“I thought so too, once,” he drawled quietly, offering out his hand to her with an endearing smile. She took it, her shoes kicking away gravel and squishing springy overgrown weeds to meet him at his side. It felt natural. A place she belonged.

“You did?”

He nodded. Avoiding the playful skepticism in her voice. He raised her hand to place a kiss to her knuckles, skimming his fingers over her digits against the side of her hand.

“It seemed impossible, but I see her every day. Though she still overwhelms me, I know that she is real. And as I hold her hand right now in mine, and stare into her eyes; I know that I am the most blessed man on the planet, for she has entrusted me with her heart. A remarkable gift and an honor to love and to hold, for she is the most extraordinary angelic woman I have had the privilege to meet.”

Wrinkling her nose, she stuck out her tongue in his direction and scoffed, “You are a terrible flatterer.”

“I can not help it. You are easy to admire, my dear.”

The Illiad heir wore his best smile for her. It sent a fluttering of wings beating in her tummy as she reached up, caressing her free hand against the his face. He was slow to reach up, pressing his other hand atop hers to keep her touch favoring against there. Her palm to his cheek, fingers circling against the curls of his sideburn whiskers.

“I love you, m’lord Amon,” Essie stated; her voice filled with confidence and predilection.

There was half a second of nothing and everything, all at once. The moon’s light curving over his features and engulfed in his eyes, which covered her in a sanctuary she came to call home.

The moment he inhaled; shocked, ready to give her his love vast and constant, she pressed close to steal his words, and seal his promises with a kiss. Warm and inviting; spilling heart from her fingertips down to her toes in tingling waves. Sweet and soft, where they followed each other in mirrored harmony.

Breathlessly sighing, she released him from the trance to blink innocently up into his stunned expression. His mouth, still slightly parted, worked up and down in a speechless pattern as he drank her in. Bathed in moonlight and flickering stars, the ebony hair on both of their heads washed with a faint gleam and skin luminescent.

Her eyebrows drew closer as he wordlessly continued to try forming a sentence. The nagging question was still in the back of her head, and she couldn’t shake it.

“M’lord, why did you just happen to have that in your pocket, anyway?”

Confusion flitted over him. At his side, the large canine gave a soft whine, nudging his head with encouragement to the nobleman’s leg.

It was then that the alarm rounded his eyes, and made his throat jump in a loud and nervous swallow.

“H-Have what,” he muttered, splotches of maroon beginning to form spontaneously on his face and neck.

“The ring?” Essie pressed, stroking her fingers from his cheek to his chin. He relaxed his hand from atop hers enough for her to drop it lower still, coasting it down his throat and feeling him tremble like a leaf beneath the whispered contact. Finally pausing, coming to a stop over where his heart beat the loudest beneath her touch on his chest.

The rhythm seemed to increase tempo the longer she kept her hand there. A reassuring pressure, listening to the hitch in every breath he now took.

Amon’s horror began to gradually melt away to reveal his nervousness as she waited with a persistent patience. He ran his tongue over his lips a few times, trying to open his mouth where only a squeaky wheeze would escape him. It happened almost half a dozen times in a handful of minutes as her smile grew sympathetic and a bit worried. The ring had some sort of importance, but for the life of her she couldn’t recall seeing it before; nor the box. The velvet container seemed to intimate to be a gift for Lady Josephine, and she had her doubts it was a memento for or from Miss Marie.

A deep and sudden rush of respiration gasped forth from him, and Amon tried to tear his eyes away from her. They immediately came right back to her imploring and curious expression; now engraved with worry. He squeezed a bit tighter to her hand, reaching up to ruffle his hair into a mused mess before dropping it to his side, and fishing into his jerkin pocket.

Wearing the most helpless, guilty expression as the man deflated, he held out the velvet box in her direction. The intensity of his eyes fixated on her caused her face to morph into a darkened rosy blush. She felt much like she did back by the city square when he proposed to her. It was the same look, that made her feel for just a small moment in time, like she had become the center of the universe.

“It’s for you.”

She met his gaze, dumbfounded. The gears in her head churned over the anxious rasp of his words, as her eyes were drawn to his hands. He let go of her to fumble with the top of the ring box, nearly dropping it twice as he cursed quietly, before opening it with quivering hands. They shook so badly, that he could not hold the ring box steady enough for her to get a good look at it, until she squinted and reached up to steady his hand with her own.

A heartfelt sigh escaped him. Visibly calmed beneath her touch, her eyes darted over the large set of diamonds arranged on the white gold band. The inside of the box was clean vibrant satin, and the edges of the dark velvet outside had worn marks like he’d spent much time rubbing it off in his fingers.

It looked expensive. The amount of detail alone in the craftsmanship of the band as it weaved around looked intricate and like a technique difficult to master, let alone the karats it had between the multiple smaller cuts and large center stone. There appeared to be script written inside the band, but it was impossible for her to make out the foreign tongue.

Essätha’s mouth began to open slowly, ignoring the quiet whining of the pooch at her side.

“It’s… stunning,” she breathed, hardly capable of words. It was more than stunning, it was a piece of art. Beautiful and bold. No one would be able to miss it; between the size and the sparkle it gave off in the moon, the diamonds had clearly been picked by a master who knew good quality and clarity.

But it looked like… The ring appeared to almost be a genuine…

“I was waiting for the right opportunity,” Amon wheezed, his voice cracking with emotional stress as he looked from her, to the ring, and then to the ground.

… was it a… no, it couldn’t be…

Frustrated, the nobleman let out a groan, his words cascading out like a waterfall: “I don’t know why I pulled it out like that, I just panicked in the moment. Most gentleman are prepared for those sort of things; I didn’t want to appear insincere. It wasn’t how I meant to propose to you, Essätha. I wanted the moment to be special; I wanted it to be perfect, just the two of us.”

Oh gods. Oh gods it had felt so real. It felt so real and that’s because… It was real.

“I was a fool,” Amon rushed, frustratingly snapping the lid shut to hold the box in a white-knuckle grip. “I wanted- I wanted the moment to be just right. The atmosphere and the romanticism we should have had. I’ve been trying to prepare a speech for weeks, trying to get it right; trying to figure out what to say. It wasn’t how I wanted you to find out. Pelor I- I wanted to sweep you off your feet. The gesture was supposed to be grand and intimate and perfect and I- I’m sorry Ess’. I want to do it the right way, not because of pressure and not before hundreds of people.”

“I’ve been wanting to ask you and I blew it. The timing, the situation. I meant every word of what I said; every word, but I wasn’t prepared, I might have missed something I-… I want you to know how much you mean to me; how much I love you, what kind of world I envision when I’m around you and it’s perfect. I want to be your husband; I want you in my life, always, to have and to hold in sickness and in health, through the hard times and the best days of our lives. I- I just- I wanted-”

“M’lord,” she cut in. The strength of her own voice surprised her. It felt like the world had disappeared beneath her feet long ago, and she had skyrocketed up to the stratosphere. The conviction in her tone was enough to drop him into silence, staring at her with a mixture of twisted agonized fear and timid acceptance.

Dragging in a fresh breath of air into her lungs, it felt like the first breath she’d taken since she was a babe. Something about the world suddenly seemed newer; brighter, less intimidating. It reflected back to her what Amon had said, about the winding path. Life was a path where you could not see around the bend to the next outcome, but the people you cared about were always traversing along that very same path. They’d keep you safe, where they could.

Marriage opened up an entirely new path. One she would never walk alone. One that she could see when she closed her eyes. It smelled like Amon’s cologne, Briarton’s woods, and Caesar’s dirty fur in need of a bath. It looked like the eyes of the Illiad before her; fathomless, thoughtful, touching like the arms that secured her in a comforting embrace at night. It sounded like his voice; lulling, deep, rolling off thunder with an effortless humored tone. It tasted like his skin, his lips, his hair; the aroma of a hard day, the wine on his tongue and salt on his skin. It felt like home. It felt like belonging.

She raised their conjoined hands to hold them tight, and against his chest. His eyes which dared to search her, trying to pull something from her in his aching fear of the unknown. The truth of a future he dared to believe in, not knowing if it was about to be shattered.

Essie smiled, holding firm to his fingers as she murmured, “It was perfect. You could have asked me without the sweet nothings; dirty, wet, cold, in just five simple words, and it would have been perfect.”

“My answer will still be yes, when; or if, you’re ready to ask again. It will always be yes. You will always be my yes, Lord Amon Thomas Illiad.”

Amon stood mute. His mouth hung open like a fly-trap for a short period, until he finally snapped it closed and visibly allowed himself to swallow and breath, as though the function had been turned off. In his hands he opened like a flower blooming to reveal the ring box, with her hands cupped around his own.

He dropped to one knee before her, slowly. Caesar; though she did not notice him, took a few respectful steps back to sit neatly, and thump his tail into the dirt like a sign of knowing. Her beloved Lord’s eyes never leaving hers, as he turned open the top once more to show her the glimmer of the ring nested inside once more.

“You are the only one for me, my darling Essätha Meduza. You make life meaningful, beautiful, and expand the horizons into infinite possibilities. I want to be there for your every smile; to keep you safe and well, to support you and help you climb higher in your goals, as you have done for me. I will be your strength when you want to rest, and carry you through, as you have done for me. I want to cheer you on as your biggest supporter and be able to tell you I love you, every day, as many times as I can for the rest of our lives.”

“Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man in the world, and allow me to take your hand as Mrs Essätha Meduza Illiad, my wife?” Amon whispered in a fluctuating tone of adoration. “Will you marry me, Essätha?”

Droplets welled up along her eyes, and overflowed the dam. She nodded wordlessly, holding to his hands as tightly as she could muster all while losing herself in the color of his eyes.

“Yes m’lord Amon. Forever and beyond; today and every day thereafter always, yes.”

As he turned over her left hand over in a delicate hold to slip the ring on her third finger, she barely managed to get out through clipped sobs, “It will be my greatest pleasure to stand by your side. You have made me proud to be myself and to love myself. Almost as proud and happy as I am to know you, to love you and to have you; and the pride I have to the wonderful, beautiful man you are. I promise I will be the best wife I can possibly be; I will never let you down-”

“You never do,” Amon assured her soothingly, resting the ring snugly against her knuckle. It was a perfect fit. It made her wonder on all the times she’d tried on jewelry in store or on Adela’s behalf, that he might have been calculating the right fit the entire time.

She hiccuped through her blubbered weeping, grinning so hard her face hurt from it. Her fingers flexed, feeling the strange new weight of the cool metal warming to her temperature. Like the vows of marriage itself, it was not a burden to carry, but a sacred reminder. No matter how tough times got; no matter the disagreements, it was a symbol of their commitment, that they could get through it, together. They would work through the differences; show understanding, and remember their love and all the reasons they fell into it as they faced whatever the future had in store for them.

Her fiance moved to stand on his feet once more, and she clung to his fingers that encompassed her hands. Liquid would temporary blind her vision, before trickling down the tracks already made on her face.

“M’lord-”

He hushed her gently, reaching up to smear away the beads of tears rolling down her cheeks and beneath her eyes with a fond smile.

“If it would be alright with you, I would very much like to kiss my fiancé, now,” he mouthed; silken words breathed close to her face.

Tongue-tied and mouth agape, she nodded. There were no words left with no breath in her lungs.

There was little room for anticipation. It was not like the previous kisses of the day, where they stood in content limbo, lips barely apart. It was a thrill; a rush. His lips descended upon hers as soon as he released her hands and the box, which clattered gently to the ground. And he kissed her, and he kissed her, and he kissed her until she grew light-headed and the only thing keeping her from crashing was his arms around her waist and her pitiful loose grip desperately in his sleeve fabric. There was no room for air between them; a fusion of intimacy and passion.

Nudging his snout between them, Caesar gingerly retrieved the empty ring box in his drooly jowls, and took a respectful step back. His tail whipped excitedly in the air as he held his head up high, offering the retrieved item up to his master who was far too preoccupied to notice the canine’s good manners.

“I love you Essätha,” he gasped; mouthing against her as they devoured each other, her tongue skimming the seams of his lips.

Muffling a quiet mewl to his crushing lips; a skip in her pulse, she managed to affirm back with strength in her voice, “I love you too, m’lord Amon.”

And she would. Eternally and beyond that, for all time and when there was no such thing as time, she would love him.

So they stood there, snogging and running eager hands over clothes in a sensual embrace. Two small pieces in the world; little blips that felt the infinity of time in the shape of lips, the tangle of hands in hair, the hunger of warm bodies pressed close and the promise of things unsaid by the voice but communicated in the hum of their presences so close.

The future was theirs for the taking, however they wished to make of it, together. Love the key; the concrete stability that bloomed all things from understanding, mercy, kindness, sympathy, giving. It was love that connected the world and its people, and it was love that made even the worst of wounds heal over time. What they shared was pure and beautiful; it was truth and it was happiness, and it was all theirs. This moment, their lives, their choices, their love it was theirs.

She would make her Lord Amon proud. She would be the most considerate, open, loving woman and wife. Faithful only to him; loyal to his needs, guiding and following and being there, with him. They would see their way through the ideal future they wanted, hand in and hand. She would put her best self and her best foot forward, with no doubts. Only love, belief, and strength.

After all, she was Essätha Meduza soon-to-be Illiad. There was nothing she could not do; nothing she could not accomplish. Especially if she had him, her Lord Amon.

#eci artz #Essie rw #amon illiad #essamon ship #fluff ///

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royal-writer · 5 years

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We coulda started a fight literally 10 minutes earlier if Essie’s Pettiness and need to Correct and be Validated kicked in ya’ll and it’s true //wheezes//

#ECI Artz #I haven't stopped thinking about this since last night

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royal-writer · 5 years

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Fear of Falling

As good as you make me feel I wanna make you feel better Better than your fairy tales Better than your best dreams You're more than everything I need You're all I ever wanted All I ever wanted

This is a terrible plan. She chewed on her lower lip, light golden brown eyes darting from one teammate to the next. Splitting up? Nothing about that sounded good. She was used to the numbers; the certainty of backup and readily available allies with different niches and talents. It didn’t matter how ‘equally’ they tried to spread the castors to the armor clad fighters of the group, it still didn’t feel… right.

Because she cared. She worried. They were her friends. They were… family.

And you didn’t split up family. It felt like leaving people behind. It left a hollow in your chest; radiating into your soul like echoes off a canyon wall. It felt like you were already handing them off to another fate. You wouldn’t be there to grasp their hands. You couldn’t be there to protect them.

Her eyes moved to Abernathy, eyebrows drawn together with concern. He clapped a hand gently to her shoulder with a heartfelt smile.

“We have the Earrings of Whisper. We’ll be in touch,” he assured her, seeing the reluctance in her face. “You’ve nothing to fear.”

Nothing to fear, he said. Nothing to fear. How could he say that? He couldn’t possibly see the fear reflected from the depths of her being. The terror. The worry. The concern. Fearing the loneliness; the lifestyle she lived with before this. Alone. Isolated. Scared. Yes, she was afraid; deeply afraid for them all. They were obnoxious and at times overbearing, but they were still her allies. What if someone got hurt? Lost? No. No she would not allow herself to think of the worst alternative, it made her throat tighten and churned the acid in her stomach into turmoil.

She couldn’t lose them, too. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

As the Paladin stepped aside, leaving her staring after him blankly, Lord Amon squeezed by him. He wore a gentle, sympathetic smile. It was hazy outlined expression; the focus of her gaze on the retreating elder man instead with his back to her. The ruffled strands of black hair casting shadows across the nobleman’s face, and obscuring his dark eyes.

She ran her tongue over her lips nervously.

“Essätha-”

“You had all better come back,”she hoarsely whispered towards Abernathy’s behind. Her hands wrung. She could not meet the Briarton Lord’s gaze.

She didn’t react as a rough hand brushed her face. She didn’t respond as it moved to pause; stopping to cradle the side of her face.

He leaned in. Lips grazed her cheek. Hardly worth of being called a kiss, it was so faint and delicate. The scraggle of his beard brushing her jawline. A warm dizziness overcame her. She lost her breath; the smell of rose water and musky earth trapped in her nose and burning her lungs. The inky depths of his gaze momentarily meeting hers as she searched his face with her jaw hanging and mouth parted.

“Stay safe.” Amon’s voice was grating. Coarser than his hands; filled with his own shock.

He stepped away; the swish of his cloak dragging against the ground briefly. It reset his reaction to breathe, and as she did his cologne fogged her mind. She saw a halo of light around him; cast perfectly by the angle of the sun’s rays. It was enough to take her breath away all over again.

“Come back,” she murmured. It didn’t carry, thankfully. He was too far gone; right behind Adela and Penimra. Too far from her hands. Unworthy hands to touch someone so beloved and endearing.

Her lungs expanded once more. Inhaling. Exhaling.

“Come back to me.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sulhadur and Abernathy clasped hands before her. Relieved expressions in their eyes. Pri’cha seemed just as eager to greet their fellow companions; grasping hands with all four of their appendages at once in greeting. The only part of her team that seemed calm and unaffected by the reunion was Rava; who although pleased to see everyone, hung back to offer encouraging words and a nice handshake or wave here and there.

She watched. Inspecting them all as they walked around. Surveying for wounds among her pack.

The silhouette of Lord Amon’s shadow fell in her direction. As she turns towards it, her eyes captured the lopsided grin he offered her. A tussle about his hair like it had been ruffled recently by hand or breeze. His approach much like a lion; prideful, steady, confident.

Her heartbeat skipped and sputtered.

“Are you okay?” Relief. Relief in his voice but intent. A knowing. Masks were easy to display. Injuries could be far worse than simply upon the flesh. The worst kind of wounds were embedded in your spirit. They ate at your identity.

Wordlessly her mouth worked. She tried to find the ability to speak, but nothing came.

He was striking. Elegant and suave with just enough ruggedness to make your insides quiver and melt. It was easy to be attracted to his sharp good looks. It wasn’t so easy to fall for the man, when he held up a wall between himself and who he really was. A shroud of mystery. But once you got inside; once he let down those barriers and allowed himself to show in all his colors, there was no denial or struggle.

All his quirks and his charm; his ludicrous sense of humor and lighthearted teasing oh gods, he made it too easy. He was layers of the atmosphere. Storms and sunny skies, the frosty snow and the twilight filled with starshine. Ever-changing into something new. No two experiences quite alike. No two moods quite the same.

Amon raised an eyebrow at her. Confusion was written into the concern on his face.

It was a stupid, selfish impulse. He was just close enough.

Grabbing the collar of his jerkin in his hands, she tugged him forward while inclining in on her tiptoes. The nobleman went wide-eyed as her lips formed to his. Firm at first then yielding; her lips moving against his.

He grunted deep in his throat with alarm.

Idiot. She’d misinterpreted the previous kiss. It was friendly and a bit awkward but she’d thought… Or maybe she’d just hoped…

Letting go of the garment, she settled back on the flats of her shoes. Amon gaped at her like a fish out of water, with splotches of red dispersed randomly over his features.

She was a damn fool.

Color flushed her face. She moved to step back, brushing loose tresses of her locks out of her face while turning away. Stupid. She swallowed thickly. Oh gods, what had she done. What did she expect? For him to kiss her back? He must think she was insane. What the hell was going to happen now? Would he leave? Put her down gently or stomp this into the dirt before it was too late? Or was it already too late? Fuck, if only she hadn’t-

“Essie.”

Conflicting emotions riddled his tone. Astonishment, being the key factor. And her mind dared to think… want.

“Look at me.”

It was a plea, not a command.

She barely turned her face towards him; stomach in fearful knots and lashes low.

He held her face suddenly but carefully, and planted his lips on hers.

Every nerve in her body responded. She could feel the tingles shoot through her like an electrical current. Heat pooled into her bloodstream. Magma moving just beneath the surface. Every inch of her was saturated with him; his aroma, his eyelashes skimming her face as they closed, his palms cupping her cheeks with care. The whisper of his beard tickled her skin. She was wrapped in security and patience. Snuggled in respect and compassion. It was an innocent kiss. No passionate craze, no wild illusions, no rush. Soft, unbelievably tender, and giving. Intimate.

She moved with him, letting him dictate the details. Synchronizing to his cues; sinking deeper and deeper into the feelings and craving she’d been swallowing for months. This was better than any dream. He tasted better than any fantasy; midnight skies and a strong drink that left you drunk and craving more.

Amon tore himself away first, gasping. Her pulse was thunder in her ears, drowning out the quiet murmurs of her friends standing around. Some of them were staring, slack-jawed, and others appeared amused or gleeful to see the pair of them close.

Their eyes locked, and began to move over each other. His nostrils flared as he panted for air. The pad of his thumbs rubbed against her cheeks rhythmically. It was almost enough to make her purr. Desire began to creep up from the gutter to loom over like a predator. And she could see the very same rise beginning to mirror in the way the nobleman looked at her. He didn’t have to say a single word. It crackled in the air around them; almost a pliable sensation.

Where the hell did they go from here?

And what did this attraction mean for their friendship going forward?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A moan tumbled out of her as Amon anchored her back to the door, raising her thigh to encourage her to wrap a leg around his waist. The angle was utterly too perfect. His erection even beneath the layers of his clothes ground against her undergarments. It was erotic as it was maddening. So close but still so far; furthering her arousal against her damp heat.

Gods how many times had she imagined just this sort of scenario? Those callused hands groping beneath her shirt as he pushed it up, his mouth leaving steamy hot kisses against her throat. She had to fumble with all his damn garb meanwhile; but the reward was worth it. When her fingernails scrapped his abdomen, he growled her name low and husky close to her ear.

The anticipation was overwhelming. She’d already seen him shirtless plenty of times, but this time she could roam with her hands and not just her eyes. And there was some other areas her whirlwind of dark libidinous thoughts couldn’t help but draw up with fascinated intrigue. An entirely new region to explore and admire.

His name exit her in a broken sigh as a hand finally weaseled up enough of her rumbled shirt to find her breast. The sweep of his thumb over her budded nipple left her keening for more, swallowing the anxious lump forming in her throat.

She didn’t know what to feel. Torn between the chemistry; the longing, the hunger that wanted to romp in the sack, and the connected emotional depth. Their relationship already was too valuable to her. What if this was all he wanted?

Could she just… accept that idea? Nevermind her feelings?

Teeth glazed over her pulse point and her breath faltered further. The rumble of his laughter vibrated from his chest into hers as he pressed closer. The heat of his torso and curls of his chest hair against her own made goosebumps rise on her arms.

What if this wasn’t enough for him? What if she wasn’t enough?

Her anxiety finally found its way to her voicebox, and she squeaked before uttering a high-pitched and frightful: “S-Stop.”

Her chest rose and fell. Amon frozen; a statue pressed into her curves so wonderfully that their every contour was fused. His mouth, just against the swell of her breast, slowly retracted as dropped her leg so her foot touched the ground.

“Alright.” Deep. Still gravely with sensuality. “Alright.”

There was a flicker of reluctance in his expression as he pulled away respectfully. They were both too disheveled and too close to nudity for it to be appear a formal situation, yet despite the tension in the air, it appeared so. Amon stood poised and dignified, his hands to himself as he looked into her eyes. His presence was all calm and understanding. No implication in his body language or gaze otherwise said he was trying to sway whatever she said next.

Pressing her lips together, they formed a hard white line. She relaxed her expression after a moment, glancing away.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

Silence. The nobleman opened his mouth to speak, but she was ahead of him.

“I can’t just-” she struggled, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I like you. A lot. And I appreciate you, m’lord, more than I can put into words. But as much as I want to, I can’t… risk my feelings. I can’t just settle for a one-night fling. You mean more to me than that.”

While trying to collect her next words, Amon made a soft scoffing noise at her. She dared to glance up to him, pursing her lips together worringly.

“You don’t think I have feelings for you, Essätha?” he crooned softly. The roughness of his hands found her hips, and she exhaled deeply with surprise. It wasn’t sensual, it was comforting as he pulled her in closer in a sincere embrace.

“I…” Her mouth worked stupidly. She fumbled, swallowing while trying to grasp at something to say.

“I’m not looking for a one-night stand,” he concluded. He was too close. She was falling into the depths of his eyes. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to resurface.

She didn’t really want to.

“You’re not?” she strangled to say.

He shook his head slowly, gaze smoldering.

Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again to rasp: “You like me?”

The sound that escaped him was a choked sort of laughter that came out like someone fighting for their dying breath. Her face turned even more red in reaction.

“Has it not been obvious, melitse?”

“Has mine?” she taunted back, leaning into the circumference of his body once more.

The grin he offered in reply was sheepish. It went well with the flushed color on his cheeks.

“I didn’t want to assume…”

She pitied the discomfort in his voice. The weariness. The concern. Truly, she understood all too well. Fearful of being wrong; even more scared that revealing the depth of her feelings would send him packing. Losing a friend she trusted so dearly made her heart ache just to consider.

Alleviated, she pressed a chaste, affectionate kiss lightly upon his mouth.

“Well now, you don’t need to consider, because I’m right here,” she mused in a sultry voice. Her hands ghosted over his chest, reveling in the way he shivered against her barely-there touch. She flashed him a grin of lewd implications. “And although you are very handsome, m’lord, I quite like the charming, witty, dependable, kind, intelligent man I’ve come to know. It’ll be fun to see what creative ideas you might be hiding.”

Amon’s pupils blew at the implication. He inhaled raggedly, dragging her in to mold against her chest as her rear moved to lean back against the door.

“I believe I have a fair imagination,” he vowed thickly, his mouth moving against hers as he spoke.

She grinned, running her tongue against the seams of his lips.

“Perfect.”

#eci artz #Essie rw #amon illiad #essamon ship

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royal-writer · 5 years

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Daddy’s Little Girl

Time to get aboard the family train again, toot toot! I still love the concept of family life Essamon... immensely.

With the council conference over and the townsfolk headed back to their homes and municipals, Amon allowed himself to sink into his chair at the head of the table. He wore of a smile and not for the first time tonight. The mood left behind by the departed crowd perfumed the atmosphere with good cheer and positivity. He was also shamefully a bit happy to have concluded the meeting. Giddy to be free of the work, and now open to let in the remainder of his night.

Scooting back his chair, he pushed it in and walked the left side to push in two of the chairs left jaggedly out. A housemaid curtsied as she passed him, and he gave her an appreciative smile and grateful nod as she went to fetch some of the mugs and glasses still sitting on the table.

From the dining hall he made his way to the stairwell, and strode past the open balcony that looked down to the table and dance floor. He scratched a hand to his chin and the dense whiskers that covered it with a thoughtful gaze upon the grand piano. It had been a while since they’d last held a gala. Maybe Essätha would enjoy the idea of a ball, either private to friends or family or allowing a reception of guests. Each sounded as good as the other, as long as he had the chance to dance with his captivating wife.

As he entered the hall that lead to the bedrooms, he could hear the soft stutter of a timid voice, followed by the gentle praise of another. He lowered his boots to muffle their noise, and straightened his posture as he approached the cracked doors leading into the master suite sitting area.

“A snake saw the mouse, and the mouse looked good.”

Raising his eyebrows curiously, the nobleman pressed a hand to one of the doors and pushed it open. It was nearly soundless, but what little creaks it made didn’t interrupt on the pair in the room. Stepping inside, he could make out the shape of Essie’s dark hair, braided and falling down her back. Kneeling on the floor in front of her, with a children’s book splayed out on the coffee table, Hepsiba swayed from side to side as her damp black locks were carefully braided too.

“Where are you going to, little brown moussse?” Sibby read, rasping her s’s and mimicking a voice similar to how her mother did when she read the book. “Come for a feast in my logpile house.”

Amon smiled fondly. Silently watching his two gentleladies, and listening to the spirited rise in ‘Sibby’s voice as she read her book. She kept her index finger pointed to the word as she sounded it out with purpose. She’d this one enough time that she could breeze through it without doing so, but somehow the youngster seemed keen on learning the sound of her syllables and breaking up the vowels and consonants as she learned how to read and write.

“It’s wonderfully good for you snake, but no – I’m having a feast with a gruffalo.”

“Oh no! Not a gruffalo,” Essätha piped up, leaning down to kiss their daughter’s cheek as she dropped the braid; a perfectly centered green bow wrapped around the ends.

Hepsiba giggled, rasping once more in the serpent’s voice: “A gruffalo? What’s a gruffalo?”

Having moved stealthfully through the room so far, Amon slunk low along the side of the sofa, a wild grin on his face as he raised his voice in a squeaky trill: “A gruffalo? Why, don’t you know? His eyes are orange, his tongue is black, he has purple prickles all over this back!”

As he finished the next script, the nobleman lunged over the arm of the chair with a playful snarl. Hepsiba let out a shriek of laughter, throwing herself against Essätha’s lap for protection. A heartfelt smile softened her features as she reached down, soothing a calming hand down their child’s back.

“Your father gave you a fright, did he?”

“No! He’s used that voice before, I knew it was daddy,” she defended, turning her bright eyes up to her mom, and then over to him.

There was no better feeling than those wide-eyed wonders filled with questions and innocence beaming up at him and joined with the endearing twinkle of his lover’s eyes peering up at him. Each of his girls wearing a smile overflowing with love. Lighting up their faces, and turning his heart into putty mush in their hands.

“I was reading mom ‘The Gruffalo’!” Their firstborn proudly declared. “She says I’m doing very well.”

“I can tell,” Amon praised, rising up from his crouched position. His face felt ready to split in two from grinning so hard as he circled around the remainder of the sofa, and settled down close to the duo.

“Mmmhm,” Essie hummed, stroking the top of her head. “You’ve had your bath, you’re in your nighties, and you’ve read me a book all after a day of being the most well-behaved little girl in the world. I’m so proud of you, my little viper. You were very polite and patient today, even when everyone was busy and there was lots of new people.”

The tempo of Hepsiba’s breathing increased excitedly as she whipped her face from her mother, to him, and back and forth again. She finally settled her bright gaze upon him. Her eyes, the Illiad heir realized, were a nearly identical match to her mother’s. Warm honeyed golden brown in an amber gaze, they were burning bright like the sun and ripe with emotion and kindness.

“Was I good today, daddy?” she inquired sheepishly, searching his face for a sign of his approval.

He scoffed, hardly believing she had to ask. Her eager face was crowned like a halo. Vibrant with life, wanting just a hint of his support. Something he was readily willing to let her have, never having the harsh bite of his father’s words or belittling cold stare. He doused her with compliments and showered her with love. Even when she required a gentle reprimanding, he mapped his words carefully and always ended every teachable moment by reminding her how much he loved her; how much he cared, and she would have both of these from him, always.

Having children, he committed himself to fatherhood in equal measure as he did being a husband. They both needed commitment, nurturing, understanding, courtesy, and patience. It was a balance between this, and his work, but all of it was all grand and every moment was worth it. And doing all these things made him a better man, and the best version of himself.

“You were a perfect little angel as always, my dear Marie.”

The word was slow to sink into his brain. Still smiling so gratefully down at his daughter’s marvelous face, and watching as her glee turned to doubt. Troubled, with big eyes and knitted eyebrows and a short little frown of misunderstanding.

It began to dawn on him gradually. Storm clouds rolling in from the west, and his mouth hung open in sudden and grotesque horror.

His breath hitched. His thoughts swam.

Marie Farthing is dead, you old fool.

Amon didn’t know what was worse: the cold reminder, his own thoughtless words, or the confusion on his little girl’s face as she looked from him, to Essätha.

And Essätha’s face was a muddled mix of grief and alarm.

Oh Pelor, no. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t mean it. ‘Sibby was not Marie. Marie was not Hepsiba. It was as obvious as the sky and sea, they were not one in the same. It was a lapse; like how parents tripped over their children’s names and mistakenly called one by another. But this was worse. So much worse, and he knew it.

Marie was dead. He couldn’t hold her anymore. He couldn’t protect her, like he once promised. He didn’t have the opportunity anymore to see who she’d become; what she would do with her life. If she’d marry and leave the estate to live in town or leave. Would she write letters, or would she stay close.

The slip of the tongue dried his mouth to ash, and choked him. Pelor don’t let her believe he thought of her as a replacement. Don’t let her think he looked at her, and saw his Marie. She was beautiful, and brilliant, but she was her own brand of Hepsiba. They were not the same. He didn’t see them that way, he could swear it.

He loathed himself. If he wasn’t frozen with revulsion and shock of himself, he might have uprooted himself to leave and lock himself in his studies. How could he call his sweet little ‘Sibby Marie. He loved them both in equal measure; he would do anything for them both if only he could, but she was not Marie. She would never be Marie he would never, never dream of comparing the two, as if his heart was so cruel, so vile as to morph the things he loved into the same hues of color, as though his daughter was not allowed to be her own person.

He didn’t mean it. It was an accident. He knew they were different he knew they were different people; he hadn’t meant anything by it it was just a mistake. By Pelor’s Light it felt like someone had carved into him like a hatched. His body broke out inn a cold sweat, his pulse running wild, a roaring in the back of his ears and a numbness making him feel clammy and stiff.

Devoured by panic, his field tunnel-visioned. He couldn’t see a damn thing straight in front of his face, and was startled by the small hand that grabbed his white-knuckled fist sitting atop his knee.

Hepsiba beamed up at him radiantly. With calm and acceptance that easily surpassed some of the wisest adults he’d ever known, she murmured: “It’s okay, daddy. I love you, and I forgive you.”

Numb with amazement, Amon stared with a rigid posture as this saintly child flung herself into his lap. Her little arms clung to him with all the might her tiny muscles could muster as she buried her face into his abdomen.

A lump rose in his throat. He swallowed, trying to force it back down. Another arm joined in; sliding against his back and resting against his opposite shoulder as Essätha moved closer. In her expression she still appeared distressed in her eyes, but there was a fire of support to keep much of it pushed back. Her soft lips pressed to his cheek, and he could smell her rose-infused lotion on her skin.

“It was an honest mistake, m’lord,” Essie reassured quietly.

Yes. An honest mistake is exactly what it was. But it made him feel no less guilty and ashamed.

They might be able to forgive him, but he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself.

A muffled wailing from the other room caused him to jolt; his body poised like a tightly wound spring. The nobleman turned his haunted eyes towards the door, aware of the gentle caressing hand leaving his shoulders chilled.

“It must be feeding time,” she murmured softly.

Giving him his arm a final rub, the Lady Illiad offered him an encouraging smile before rising up from the cushions. She moved swiftly around the short table towards their bedroom, where Isabelle’s crying was coming from with slowly increased volume.

The nightmare of his words circled back to him. Moving his gaze around the room, Amon was finally left to settle it upon the regard looking upon him. He shuddered, shouldering the impulse to turn his disgraced face away. He had no right to the love and delightful marvels of such a pure babyish face. He didn’t deserve the way she looked at him, admiring and full of respect and belief.

‘Sibby grinned at him, oblivious to his turmoil as she shyly requested, “Could you read me some more of Alice in Wonderland tonight, daddy?”

With a choked sigh, he finally managed to respond in a gravely voice: “Hepsiba, I am sorry.”

She blinked rapidly, her smile fading.

“I forgive you.”

“No, ‘Sibby I-… I want you to know, that I love you, just the way that you are. Exactly as you are. Being yourself. I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else, okay? I misspoke. I would never compare you to another; I would never try to make you someone you were not, or suggest that you were, or fit you into a shape of somebody else.”

“That’s okay,” Hepsiba replied, chipper as ever. She glanced around, as though making sure no one was listening while whispering low, “I called Amelie auntie Josephine, once.”

“Did you?” he murmured faintly, only partially aware.

She forgave him… just like that? At first he wasn’t sure she understood; that maybe she was offering him a sympathetic apology because he was upset. But this was a surprise, and one that he was grateful for, even if she might not fully understand the weight in his error.

Bobbing her head up and down, his little girl continued in a rushed whisper: “Amelie was making me snack, and she was taking the crusts off my sandwich like I like it, and I said ‘thank you auntie Josie’ without thinking. I was upset and scared she might be mad at me, but she wasn’t! She pat my head and we laughed and I had my snack at the table. It was good but she didn’t put as much cheese on it as mommy does which is better.”

Amon looked into the watchful gaze studying him. Her excitement about her tale began to dwindle the more the seconds ticked by. It evaporated from Hepsiba’s complexion, which became awash with fear and concern noticing his unreleased tension.

He exaggerated his sigh, and beamed joyfully down at his little blessing. Calm as a spring breeze, gentle as a flower, bright as the sun. Things like luck, chance, flukes- they were all words for the fortunate but the Illiad heir felt like he had been granted those things. He was a decent man. He tried his best; covered his debts, tried to show reason and mercy but even still, he didn’t deserve all of this.

Essätha’s love and devotion, which was a rhythm to his heart, warmth in his soul, air filling his lungs, fulfilled him. It fueled so many dreams and desires he chased. He learned again what it felt like to hope and to live. Life was perfect, as perfect as it could be, and he couldn’t imagine a way to make it more vivid and amazing.

Now he had the tireless love from his beautiful children. His firstborn little girl, so close to being the spitting image of her mother, and their baby Isabelle. And they never doubted his intentions. They only saw the good in him; the role model, the man who put them first.

He finally cleared his throat, and tried to keep the hoarseness of thick emotion out of his tone as he responded gently, “I promise not to tell Amelie you like mommy’s sandwiches better.”

In an instant, Hepsiba was grinning wildly once more. He passed her a wink as a sign of his good word, and she giggled endlessly with harmonious rapture.

“Can you pretty please read me another chapter of Alice tonight then?”

“Sure, ‘Sibby. I’d love to.”

“Great!” she huffed with excitement, letting go of him. “The book’s in my room. I’ll go get it!”

With eager laughter, his little girl spun around and dashed past the couch. She realized the error in her ways as he narrowed his eyes while tracking her, smirking slightly. She moved to tiptoe gracefully instead, passing him an apologetic glimpse as she hurried for the door.

Hepsiba was barely out the door when footsteps had him turning towards the bedroom door. A smile curled Essie’s lips as their eyes met. In her arms, the swaddled figure of their youngest lay nested in her arms. They were nuzzled against her bosom, latched on in a drowsy feeding in the loose-fitting peasant blouse. She hummed quietly for their little Belle, moving her in a gentle bouncing motion while moving around table to take a seat slowly beside him again.

Pelor, she was utterly stunning. He scooted his rear across the sofa to move closer to her, where the heat of her autumn skin called to him. He breathed her in as well as the smell of powder and baby, while curling an arm to her waist.

She gave a husky, tired laugh as he nuzzled his nose just beneath her ear, whispering as though a faint afterthought, “Is it everything you thought it’d be?”

“No,” he admitted. A flicker of hurt and worry began to outline her features as he reached to cup her chin, urging her closer as he uttered low, “It’s better.”

Her relieved sigh exhaled against him as he brushed a feather-light kiss to her mouth. Holding Isabelle with one arm, she reached across for him. Her thumb caressed the side of his face as, against laugh lines and up to the long strands of hair falling over his temples as he claimed the refuge that was the heaven in her soft and welcoming lips tenderly.

The excitement of astonishingly loud footsteps for someone so small came bouncing back into the room, followed by a roll of giggles. Amon barely managed to pull himself away to see the rosy color burning in her cheeks before a book was thrust in his direction, with pleading eyes and a pouty lip wobbling up at him hopefully.

Chuckling, he accepted the offered book from Hepsiba as she squeezed herself like a wedge between the two of them; making herself at home partly on both of their laps.

He grinned, his heart cascading and overfull with love as he pecked each of his beautiful girls on the head.

Cracking the novel open where the fabric bookmark last left off, Amon cleared his throat to prepare for storytelling. ‘Sibby huddled close, craning her head to look at the pages of the book as Essie rested her head to his shoulder, sighing with completion.

Better was an understatement.

This was paradise.

#eci artz #Essie rw #amon illiad #essamon ship

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royal-writer · 5 years

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They’d failed.

Now I see fire Inside the mountain I see fire Burning the trees And I see fire Hollowing Souls I see fire Blood in the breeze And I hope that you’ll remember me.

They’d failed.

In the most tremendous fashion, their futile hopes were dashed. All they could do now was stand, and watch with horror and awe as the mountain top miles upon miles away exploded. It erupted not with the hot molten magma of the planet’s core, but with screeching flames and smoke as the beastly creature arose from its slumber with a mighty roar.

Essätha flinched; tears blurring her vision as the rough warmth of a hand grasped upon hers firmly.

“My gods,” Adela’s soft voice carried faintly from somewhere out of sight. “That… That thing… it…”

She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the frightful sight of the towering form. It clawed out of the rugged cliffs and rising boulders more and more to reveal just how inescapably colossal it was. Everyone else was just as transfixed; as far as the eye could see from the horizon everyone was stopping and staring to see the very end of their world rise before them. A blackened sky to greet its majesty and thick armored body.

Startled caws and grunts of alarm had the wildlife racing and flocking in every direction to escape the area. Between the sound drowned out alone with her racing heart, and the uttered swears of Penimra from somewhere behind her.

Fingers slipped between the spaces of her own and held to her palm with a strength that was almost as numbing as her thoughts.

This was it. This was Armageddon. Judgment day. The Apocalypse lay within the maw of the monster as the mountain collapsed within its now empty shell of a husk, revealing it to be the core of the very hillside.

They had doomed the world, and sealed the fate of everyone on the planet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Shuddering with horror, Essie could only watch the crumbling, rippling ground grow craters and rifts that swallowed parts of the village whole. There was no time to save the unfortunate souls that suddenly disappeared in the blink of an eye; rubble and earth descending into a blackened abyss.

She knew she should be feeling relief, as she spotted Aylin pulling Ravamora up on the far side of the trench now separating much of the town. There was no relief to be found, however.

“We’ll go around! Keep going!” Abernathy shouted; motioning to the best of his ability.

“I’m not sure they can hear us,” Sulhadur rasped; his voice nearly lost.

The shining golden shell plating of Pri’cha stepped forward. The sole antenna they still had left was curled tight against their head as they reached out, grasping for the Paladin’s trousers to give them a gentle tug.

“We nust keep going, Sir Adernathy.”

The orc-ish elf grunted, hefting up his massive axe so it cradled against the bend in his shoulder slope to his neck. His eyes shone with concern as he watched the distant pair take off; heading northwest towards the mountain.

Altogether, they ran along, flanking the canyon in hopes of finding a way around the vast expanse.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Coughing on soot and ash as flames choked the air, Essie turned around to see Abernathy’s grim expression. Blood soiled his clothes from the corrupted looking demonized creature laying in pieces upon the ground. He offered out his hand towards Penimra, who appeared to be having trouble rising to his feet.

“We can’t just leave these people here,” she wheezed, watching the frightened masses fleeing for their lives in random directions.

There was a heavy silence clouding the group despite the ragged gasps for air. Filth clung to their sweaty bodies in layers; masking their expressions and caking their skin.

A mighty roar cascaded over the lands. With it, trees bent and the ground shook, and the odor of death seemed to permeate the very sky and extend the burning houses into a spreading inferno.

As the ringing in her ears began to dissipate, Essätha rose from her crouched position. A hand reached up, grasping for the ring hanging around her neck by a thin silver chain. It had felt like a weight when she’d first began to wear it. A constant reminder to do better. A constant ache. One look at her reflection and she’d see it hanging there, holding a silver midnight moon’s glow.

It was no longer a symbol of lost things, but of hope and renewal. She could learn to forgive, and heal, and prosper. She had grown despite the doubt and the sneers she never could. In defiance of the world around her, she not only learned to survive, but to thrive and remain gentle at heart.

“What can we do for them?” Penimra cried out against the shouting. “They’re as fucked as we are.”

“We can move them south,” Essie cut in, meeting Abernathy’s gaze as he looked between them all. He regarded her, with ash on their brows and smeared on their mouths and a haunted gaze.

“We have to try.”

A ghostly smile appeared on his face. He gave a nod, his hair bobbing with his head. It appeared less of snow and more like their fellow nobleman’s; smudged with gray and black.

“We’ll separate into teams to take different districts. I will…”

She already drowned out his words. Her eyes turned towards the weight of a gaze that was on her, and had moved away as she looked. Tired lines beneath their sea-depth colored eyes that flared with of all things, determination. Hope. Trust.

Her mouth wobbled unexpectedly. It was hard to look any of them in the eye without feeling an overwhelming sense of loss and fear. Looking at Lord Amon however, left the largest gaping hole of all in her heart. She was just starting to get to know him in a new light. They shared something new and thrilling; filled with excitement and yearning and… now…

“… and that leaves Amon with me.”

Look at how much you’ve grown, Essie thought with a flood of great pride. She wondered if he saw it too; wondered if he knew. He should know himself so well to see this: the way the crippling weight upon him like the great story of Atlas had hunched his shoulders and made him bitter and resistant had eroded with the tides. Little by little, he was chiseled anew with life once more. His heart reemerged to let in the world as he let himself out, free of his confines.

And she’d sank in the depths of his ocean. No harbor ever safer.

While they began to murmur words of encouragement, Essätha kept her brave face through a false smile. She held to Adela’s hand, and snickered at Penimra’s sass. While Pri’cha and Abernathy spoke to her, her head bobbed with understanding. Hands behind her neck, she fiddled with the latch to her necklace as they stepped aside and she approached the one figure who had their gaze adverted to the smoggy sky.

“M’lord.”

He was slow to respond. His eyes torn from the scorched black clouds to her gradually. Captured upon her light brown gaze with a shrouded blankness.

She fidgeted with the ends of the chain. Biting upon her lower lip, Essie pushed up on her tiptoes to better reach for him. Amon grew stiff for a moment, but gradually inclined his head down so she could latch the jewelry around his neck.

Settled on her heels once more, her eyes darted over his chest. He followed the transfixed state, looking upon the small band dangling below his collarbone.

A tightness grasped her throat, and made it hard to swallow. Reaching up, Essätha patted her hand gingerly upon her mother’s old ring and Amon’s upper torso.

“Mom would have loved you.”

The lulled whisper of words calmed neither of them. As tracks moved over her cheeks and carved paths against the grime on her face, Amon raised a hand. The warmth of his callused palm rested atop the back of her hand, and his unnerved gaze looked upon her. His jaw worked; teeth grinding against each other that she could just barely see, refusing to raise her face.

“I will see you again.”

Essie’s lower lip wobbled. She could almost scold him for lying to her in such a way. He knew better than that. Or maybe he meant what would come after, in which she could never say with any certainty where she was going to be led after all was said and done with her final breathe.

She forced a smile. The best one she could afford to spare, while forcing herself to look up into his face. It would be the last time she could lay her eyes upon it and so she studied him; trying to remember every crease and furrow of his worried complexion and the way fire danced across the reflection of his eyes. The shape of his lips as he tried on a smile, the color of his hair as strands clung to his face and temples in sweaty disarray.

In a choked voice, she whispered, “Take care of that for me, just in case.”

Between the shouting, the crying, the screaming and the bellowing echoes of a monster’s roar, terror rippled over her body and latched hold of her wide-eyed stare. She pulled her hand swiftly free of Amon’s, resisting the urge to sniffle as further tears clung to her lashes and the air began to be hard to draw in as she turned away.

“Wait.”

A gentle hand wrapped around her arm. She could break free and she knew this; but she didn’t struggle as he pulled her back in. The embrace of home in his arms; one she’d never had. Lost and found among family and friends. Learning to love again and in a whole new light in those arms that held to tightly and helped to keep her strong when she no longer wanted to bare her burdens.

He breathed close to her ear. His words curled against the wisps of her dark hair in a soothing murmur as he spoke gently: “I’ll find you, Essätha. I’ll find you again, I promise.”

Though his vow sounded true, the unwavering hold around her tightened as though he was reassuring himself as much as her. An uncertainty lingering in the air as she tried to commit the feeling of his arms around her to memory, and the aroma of her skin even as it smelled mostly of sweat and dirt than the musk of his cologne.

His arms slackened, and once more she was forced to let go of someone that brought her an endless source of joy and smiles. It was too much to ask the universe for another moment, or for something to call her own.

Essätha turned her head, pressing a quick peck to his smudged cheek. She dare not look at his face, and risk seeing the turmoil and sorrow that lay there. She wanted to remember the way he looked when he smiled, at his happiest. When all things no matter how terrible seemed possible to overcome. When there was no overbearing sense of loneliness in the winds and they dared to believe for a future together.

With a last smile and tears running into the corners of her lips, her foot slid to step back.

A weakly startled gasp barely managed to squeak out of her lungs as Amon dragged her back in. His nose nudging her cheek, and a fiercely protective arm around her. His other hand cupped the back of her neck and from there, plunged into her locks.

As alarming and sudden the kiss, his lips knew only gentleness. Fingers twining through her hair and a blazing warmth rushing through her hotter than the flames. Courage mingled with bittersweet anguish.

She grabbed for his jerkin. Desperately moving her hands up to throw her arms around his neck and cling to him. The last good thing she’d ever have.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sulhadur raggedly dragged in oxygen beside her. Her own chest heaved, finding it harder and harder to take in the embers that suffocated her.

As another of the twisted corpses crumpled into dust before them where they sat, they watched the remains of yet another house fall seconds after. The stench of burning hair and flesh was charging the air like a sickening sacrifice. Her own skin was marked with evidence of the flames; scorched and peeling black with raw bloody skin. Lacerations from the mutated creatures too stained her clothes and flesh, but none so much as they did Sul.

“Come on Sul, we need to keep moving north,” she rasped, tugging at the crimson Dragonborn’s chest armor.

He smiled at her; sharp jagged teeth glinting in his maw grizzly with blood. The flicker of his eyelids moved sluggishly. They would close and open partly before closing away, too tired to be able to fight all of his exhaustion.

“We’ve evacuated as many as we can in this area, we have to keep moving.”

A hair-raising garbled blood-curdling cry had her whipping her head around, searching for the source of the creature.

“Keep going, Essätha,” Sul coughed, speckling her shirt with flesh scarlet drops. “I’ll stay behind and hold off the monsters.”

“I’m not leaving you-”

“We won’t stand a chance if we keep stopping to fend off these things. There’s others that still might need our help. Our comrades might still need us, Essie. Go. I’ll catch up to you.”

You’re lying. She raised a hand as though to slap him. She hated him. Furious beyond words that he would even suggest such a ludicrous idea. He wouldn’t be able to hold them all off forever; he might be powerful, but it would be just one solo man with no aid no one to distract them.

Her hand came softly up to the side of his face, and she bent her head down low, weeping openly.

Sul gave a weak chuckle. He slowly pushed her hand aside, and rose to his feet. Gaping holes in his warped armor, and dripping wounds around his joints and the spaces of his plating for mobility.

Another howl carried in the wind, closer this time.

“Go, Essätha,” Sul growled, hefting up the massive glowing blade. “I’ve got this.”

It was not cowardice that gave her aching limbs strength. The conviction in the Dragonborn’s words did so; and sure enough she got to her protesting feet. They wanted to drag in the dirt and stone, but she found strength to scramble first, and then sprint ahead. The wind passed her by; barely making it to the bottom of her lungs.

Whipping her head around as the fire crackled all around, she spotted the creatures closing in on Sul. His sword whipped around and moved in a mighty thrust to the closest one, and flames billowed out from his maw as more swarmed in from the sides towards him.

She turned away, heart twisting, frightened to see him fail, and fall.

There would be nothing left fighting for.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Barely any magic coiled in a mist around her any longer. Sparks like miniature stars flickered and danced around her fingertips.

She had little to nothing left. Her magic all but mostly spent on the fiendish creatures. Huddled masses of people she’d saved were running by in a blur, and she could hardly see as her vision doubled and returned to normal. Smoke lined her throat; filled her nostrils and burned her eyes. There was no marching order to the chaos; it all seemed to come at once, from every direction, and she was alone and tired.

Staggering over dead bodies, Essätha raised her hand and choked out an incantation, watching as another dead body thudded to the ground only to turn to dust seconds later.

Gods and Goddesses, give me strength, she prayed, gasping loudly as she clutched a hand to a throbbing wound at her side.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Her knees hit the ground, and then her palms. Blood pebbled up on her palms as she tried to catch her breath, to no avail. Shaking like a leaf, her eyes turned up to the sneering face peering down.

Death’s hood seemed to briefly embellish the creature, and it raised it’s warhammer.

An arrow whistled through the air and embedded itself nearly to the feathered fletching of the shaft through the beast’s head. It swayed for a moment, seeming stupified or drunk, and suddenly fell to the side with its stolen weapon crashing into the ground and its body fading before her.

Essätha spat; particles of the creature’s dust on her lips as she trembled. Her head lifted as she struggled to her feet. Pain seared into her side and she gasped, doubling over.

Before she could hit the ground and curl up a miserable, whimpering ball arms grabbed at her shoulders and yanked her up. Their clothes smelled of death and blood and smoke, but there was familiarity in the gentle care in which they held her.

“M’lord Amon!” she crooned, digging her fingernails into the fur lining of his cloak. “What are you doing here, what-”

She caught sight of his face. A purple-hued bruise swelled his split lip and his eyes were large and luminous. There was a mat of blood on the side of his head where his hair stuck out and he was more sooty now than ever. His gloves were gone, and his clothes were tattered and torn; coated red. Further bruises seemed to hiding just beneath his sleeves, and there were rope burns on his hands.

Frazzled, she began to babble stupidly: “Where’s Abernathy? Why are you here; weren’t you supposed to be going to help Aylin and Ravamora I don’t, I-”

“Abernathy’s with them now,” he gasped, reaching out to her. She flinched with surprise as his raw, bloody hands reached for her. They shook horrendously as he gently cupped her cheeks, and cradled her face.

A hiccup pressed past her lips, and her eyelashes fluttered as she leaned into his touch. She sighed, choking on a whimper of agony. Her hand slid across the back of his, and despite the gore and sore flesh, she turned her face to kiss upon his filthy fingertips.

“Essie, where is Sul?”

Her chest rose; heaving as a sob broke through her. All she could do was shake her head, mumbling almost incoherently through her tears, “I don’t know. He told me to go- he told me to run he- he was holding off some of the creatures I lost him I don’t know I-”

“Shhhh,” Amon hushed, dropping his hands to grab her once more and drag her into his chest. A weak cry broke through her; splintering her heart as she held to his cloak.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to bury her face into his charred cloak. Let the shaky heaves of her sobs rake through her chest, and feel the security of her Lord Amon’s hands smooth down her back even if his flayed hands probably hurt to do so.

“You should be with them,” she muttered; voice cracking as she reached up to wipe at her face. “This wasn’t part of the plan you- you couldn’t have known if I was alive-”

Cooing with gentleness, Amon placed a hand against her cheek and wiped at the damp circles beneath her eyes. His voice barely a breath; hardly audible against the groaning buildings collapsing and roasting flames as he stated softly: “If the world’s going to end, Essätha, I want to be right by your side as the stars go out.”

“I told you I’d find you,” he rasped, allowing her to sag into his grasp as she choked on weak sobs. “I promised you.”

Her body quivered. She should never have doubted him.

Fingers dragging against his collar, she held to him tight.

She’d never doubt him again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The mountain monster towered above them. So high, Essätha could not even see its eyes as it lumbered across the ground. With each step of its mighty clawed feet, the ground shook and dirt caved beneath its prints into large indentations.

People were screaming, caught beneath the clawed toes and swing of its massive tail. As it lowered its head, the beast gobbled up fleeing humans by the mouthful.

No blades pierced it; no arrows found a mark. Magic seemed to do nothing to the natural armor plating of the beast’s thick, scaly armor. It bounced off or seemed to evaporate against its form.

Essätha screamed; her voice breaking at its highest point as the monster went for Ravamora after she fired an arrow up at the beast’s snout. She barely dove forward enough to miss being taken into its maw and caught upon its chin, but the beast swung its head wildly and she went flying.

Aylin cursed the vile beast, but it seemed to have no affect. It opened its mouth, and a plume of fire erupted, burning him to cinders along with a group of people running for their lives.

There was nothing left of him.

Nothing.

Tapping into the last reserves of her magic, she pointed at the creature’s face. Tears swam in her vision as she uttered a string of words to herself. Violet magic sputtered, and suddenly bloomed along her hands and fired a barrage skyward.

When the last of the power began to tapper, Essätha howled. Her energy began to drain fast, and a dizziness began to drag at her feet.

Tiredness. She was so tired…

The head of the beast shook, and turned town towards her.

Life ebbed out of her soul, and into her magic. Blazing white; it crashed in rippling waves over the god-like titan. It gave a sound of agony as a blast didn’t ricochet, but splashed over its eye.

Blackness swirled around the corners of her vision. Her knees began to unbuckle.

“Essätha! Essätha that’s enough, stop!”

Someone grabbed at her waist, and she slumped. Gasping for air, she was a limp doll in Amon’s arms as he seized her, feverish wild eyes boring into her as he hoisted her up.

“We’re not going to win this fight!” Adela called out. “We need to retreat!”

Her head lolling, Essätha looked up. She could only just make out Amon’s face as her vision began to steadily clear. His eyes were filled with fright as he cradled her against his chest, huffing for air.

She was bouncing in his grip like they were… running?

“Amon…?”

“You scared me half to death,” he choked, his eyes darting down to meet her gaze. His pulse was rapid against her palm as she rested her hand against his neck.

She smiled weakly. Exhaustion tugged at her, but it was deeper than just the need for sleep. It felt… colder. Like the ensnaring fingers of Death’s bony digits upon her, then pulled just out of reach.

He stumbled, cursing as he nearly dropped her.

“Let me stand; you can’t carry me the whole way.”

“No, I-”

A mighty roar pierced the air; drumming in her eardrums and aching her skull. She cursed, and Amon’s lips moved in what she assumed was much the same.

Digging its feet into the ground, the beast turned a glare in their direction.

Essätha could make out the blinded discoloration of its right eye where she’d struck it with her magic.

It began to inhale, light brewing along its teeth and in the back of its throat.

Gasping for air, Essätha grabbed at Amon’s face. He turned to look at her, screwing up his features like she’d touched a sore spot.

“You have to put me down!” she squealed. “You have to put me down and run-!”

Boots tripping up, Amon cursed lividly, falling to his knees. Blood welled up on his kneecaps and he turned, looking over his shoulder at what she had been looking at.

His eyes moved back down towards her.

“Essie, I could never outrun the cone-”

“You could try!”

He smiled slowly. Acceptance in his eyes, and he pulled her closer with one arm while gripping his cloak; pulling the torn remains up to shroud the white light beginning to engulf the horizon.

She clawed at him; trying to drag herself up as tears swam in her vision.

“Amon please-”

“Don’t look back, Essätha,” he murmured softly. “Look at me.”

Strangling against the lump in her throat, her eyes moved over to catch sight of his eyes. Dark pools of the ocean pulling her in.

His grin broadened, leaning over her like a protective blanket. A scorching heat had sweat breaking out over her skin. The same very same dripped down Amon’s face, from his eyes and on to her. She grabbed for his jerkin; fisting what remained of his clothes in her hands as she looked into his gaze.

There was a sharp, thunderous exhale and a flash of blinding light, and their friends cried out as they watched helplessly as the inferno washed over them, leaving nothing but ash.

#eci artz #Essie rw #amon illiad #essamon ship #includes noisy bastards

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