Life is Chaos ♡

It was surreal–and Aro stuttered a moment at the sight of her as she spoke again. Her voice ringing against his ear as proof this wasn’t some trick of the mind. Now the unseelie king had never been one for romantics or visible emotions as such,  he kept a tight-lipped line for a smile and dark brooding eyes fro a gaze. No one, sometimes not even Levi could guess his thoughts. He kept his mind guarded as most in his position would. But behind every word and decision was a calculated plan drawn long before the actual action took place. Everything he’s done has led him to find her, everything he’s done has been to find the woman who saved his life. 

And what did he expect? To bring her back to the palace and keep her prisoner. He wouldn’t deny the thought had once crossed his mind. But that was premature, and he was immature. He’d almost begun to believe she was merely a figment of his imagination, a story abandoned young ones like to adopt to sleep through the night. But no, she was here in the flesh—as beautiful as ever. He didn’t even know her name.

But he followed. Followed like a lost boy seeking refuge. Followed like a bewitched man with no will. He could only manage to shake his head in response to her questions, wondering still if she recognized him or if she was this pleasant with all visitors. The question was too specific, as if she did remember his condition the first and last time she had seen him. Did he look different in her eyes? More attractive? Surely, the arrogance inside him huffed. But he followed her toward her home as if he bore no royal blood and no responsibilities to lead a Kingdom.

Whatever magic she did hold captivated him when the door seemed to appear from thin-air. Veiled with whatever magic he was sure had saved him before, Aro assumed to himself. Without another word, he’d tied the stallion to the nearby tree, hesitated for a moment wondering if all of this was a good idea before stepping inside. He was a king for the love of the Elfen God’s, what did he have to fear?!

“You uhm– have a lovely home–” his voice echoed into the space scratching the back of he head as he looked around. It was nothing like the palace, void of any luxuries and fancy things.

“Thank you.” Mareike glanced from behind the tiny kitchen counter, two stools pulled in tight for the lack of room. That was all she needed, even when her grandmother had still been here, for the ancient fae had always insisted that Rhyz take her seat while she cuddled into the old chair by the fire. “It’s warm.” There was no reason for this place to be the size it was, its true nature a pocket of old magic built onto by the chosen few, but it felt warm, and Mareike liked it just the way it was.

“Come. Take a seat.” She instructed, turning away for a second to grab two mugs. “The water should be ready soon.” She could always speed up the process, but out here, in the middle of the open land, time flowed slow, and there was no reason to hurry things. Fate had a way of playing by it’s own rules anyway, which made it definite that there be a reason that the man in front of her had returned to her. Now to figure out what it was.

“Do you mind if I...” She met his gaze firmly, as she opened her palm over the flat surface. “check your pulse?” She was still stuck on the idea that there was something wrong with him, because there was no other reason why fate would deliver him to her door, to her home.

she should have never strayed from the pod, should have followed closely to the others. the sea was a domain still yet to be dominated and ruined by human contact. but even as the vast as it was, her people were still hunted and harvested for their precious scales and, if lucky, tears. they never dared to venture close to a ship, hearing of stories about those who had been captured, never to return home. anais didn’t remember whose idea it was to go near, or maybe it was the ship that had somehow snuck up on them while they were enjoying a sunbathing by a nearby tidal pool. but somehow the mermaid found herself tangled within the roughened chords of net and hauled onto rickety cold flooring of the ship. several pairs of eyes belonging to dangerous and fearful mean examined her before their leader appeared through the exhibition.

anais would learn later his name was caption, and the others—the others were merely his followers. blind and stupid if she were asked. they threw her into an open contraption. cold and white, with green and black stains in along the edges before filling it with collected sea water. it bore her only a slight bit of relief as her tail sploshed about ungracefully. the thing was much too small. and then they tied her wrists to the gleaming silver handle at the head of the contraption and left her there in the darkness for days before one of the men would come with a flat tray in their hands and several other small containers with items placed within. 

she’d learn soon that what they brought her was food. they tried feeding her like some sort of caged animal, dead fish placed on the tray crawling with unnatural smells and layers of added grime as they learned day after day what each tool was meant for while she watched from them attempt to show her how to eat in their world. it was the fifth day when she picked up the gadget with pointed spears and jammed it into another man’s hand. crimson blood flowed quickly to the surface as his hollering alerted several others to check on the commotion. 

it was the captain who sent them away, and it was the captain whom she would speak only to. for as far as they could tell, she’s been completely silent ever since they fished her out of the water. “release me.” she hissed at him.

“You speak.” Vasco grinned, making sure the men were above deck before he moved into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. “That means you also have a name.” He concluded, finding an empty wine barrel to sit on, at a safe distance. There were hundreds of stories about the wickedness of sirens, and although many were definitely false, he wasn’t the type to recklessly risk his hide.

His mother was called Lisana. To this day he wondered if that had been her real name, or just one she’d given in an attempt to appease her captor. He wondered sometimes how life would have been if she had stayed, but he couldn’t blame her for leaving. Not after watching her cry herself to sleep every night longing for a world that no human would ever be privy too.

Sirens did not belong in the human world. Sirens did not belong in traditional families, were not meant to raise human children. Young Vasco could attest to that, for her departure had struck him down and taken away the only sense of belonging he had ever known. Current Vasco had thought he was over that, but the truth was there were still many unanswered questions running through his head. Who had been the woman that had birthed him, and love him, and left him.

He was crazy for even thinking that the woman in front of him now, tail and all, could answer those questions for him. 

“working?!” she whirled around, just in time to come face to face with him. the words such a lie she wanted nothing more than to release hell’s hounds on him. did he think she was stupid? vidia’s lips trembled in fury, eyes burning like wildfires but the moment he managed to hold onto her, she could feel herself lose. and it always happened like this. like clockwork, like he knew all the things she didn’t want to say, knew all the things she kept behind her lips that threatened to spill forward each and every time he was close enough to feel her breath against his skin. 

the rage wouldn’t subside though. not this time. she was angrier than usual. not because she didn’t know what he was capable of, but at least he’d made an effort all those other times to clean up—look as if he hadn’t gone bathing in cheap sheets of a brothel. she didn’t put it above him, had trained herself to expect the worst as the truth because there was no other alternative. it was easier to think of him as someone who had these kinds of habits, someone who sought pleasure over affection. anything was easier than accepting that he might actually care about her more than a protector and guard assigned to keep her safe. anything was easier than admitting how she felt about him, and what came with those feelings. 

“don’t.” her words were an order, but made of only weak resolve as she stared up at him, the bow completely forgotten as he wielded it from her other hand. “don’t lie to me. i know where you were last night.”

He tried to understand her. He really did. But it was more often that not that he found himself baffled by her all consuming anger. What she wanted form him could never be. She was fire and the world was frigid enough that his empty soul was tempted to touch it. To light himself and finish the corruption that had begun since the moment he had first laid eyes on her all those years ago. 

There had been other woman. Too many to count. Vidia would detest him even more if she knew just  how many. The nail in the coffin would surely be the disgust that would come if Vidia ever learned that he often closed his eyes so that he could imagine her in their place. “Where or who I was with last night, isn’t important.” He grinned, hiding behind the ire inducing facade so that he didn’t have to face the real problem. 

"The problem is, you, going on ahead without me." He pointed out, hand sliding down her arm, until he was holding her hand in his. “It’s as if you hate me enough to want me dead.” A reality that was hidden behind humor, because endangering her was to ignore his duty to the throne. He knew she wouldn’t want to hear it, but he said it anyway, for he wasn’t above playing dirty to drench her anger.

elysiumomcnts‌:

in a perfect life there would only be levi for her, and there would only be her for levi. they would have the freedom to love outwardly and unashamed nor tied by the duties and rules of a life at court. the fae had always believed in their hierarchical rules, the systematic boundaries that kept those like levi and herself always an arms’ distance away, always pining and yearning for freedom. at least that’s how it felt for soleil. maybe he had more freedom to move about—he was respected, known. she was, well, nothing but a maid. those were not the cards for a future, let alone one that was happy. 

she’d never utter the things she’d heard said about her from the whispers of the other maids and servants, couldn’t bear the thought of putting that burden on him. but try as she might, those words always came back to haunt her in the middle of the night, lying wide awake curled up against his chest wondering if their love would ever surpass the secretive walls of a chosen inn or his own chambers. perhaps she’d cheapen herself in that way, and maybe what they said was true about her. hiding away in an inn near the woods was hardly a respectable way to be courted. she’d never be more than his whore and the word stung against her ears and heart while she looked up at him, frozen in his gaze and his presence because she understood the tone in his voice when he said not to reject him today. 

the flowers in his hand, crushed by haste and carelessness felt of brightness and warmth. a gifts\ from the summer kingdom, a reminder of a home she’d never been to. “the flowers are beautiful,” soleil said at last, pulling away from him enough to catch a breath though still yet to reciprocate his feelings. i missed you too. “i suppose an order is an order then, i won’t reject you today if that’s what you want.” there was truth in the jab, and the smallest of smiles began to appear on her face as she brought the crumpled petals to her face. 

“Great.” There was relief in his voice, for Levy lived in constant fear that one day Soleil would have a change of heart and leave him for good. The way things were now, there was nothing he could give her, nothing he could promise. She deserved more than a night in an inn. She deserved to not feel shame for their mutual affection, but that was a hard concept to communicate when she was the one that had to walk out of his room in the clothes she’d worn the previous day. 

He grinned as she accepted his gift, fingers brushing a strand of hair that had come loose as she’d leaned down to smell the bouquet. He loved her, everything about her, and he didn’t understand how other’s couldn’t see how blindingly lovely she was. He was tainted by darkness, but when he was with her, he found that he didn’t feel as twisted. 

Lysander had never sought her out for anything other than than due diligence. The first year had been carefully scheduled visits advised by the royal physician to secure the legacy of their lineage. When the anniversary of their wedding had come and gone and no announcements of a child was declared, this was when Colette had started to worry. The stories of unfaithful kings and a harem of scheming concubines was something the Princess knew well. They were only there for a purpose, and if they couldn’t fulfill that purpose, another would take their place. 

She dreaded the day Lola would break the news to her, but that day hadn’t come yet. Instead, he would visit her in addition to the nights scheduled by the physicians, perhaps seeking a release in the frustrations that lie in his daily burdens as crown prince— but he would only bed her. She always obliged, always yielded in a way only a dutiful wife could and was expected. It was never anything more than that—duty and responsibility. And that was an unspoken understanding between them. 

In the absence of such affection, Colette learned him. She followed closely to the affairs of the Court, and the little unnoticeable cues that no one else would have bothered to remember. She knew him down to the way his eyes would cast different emotions under trained, thin-lined lips–lips that told a completely different story when he sought hers out the way he did now. There was desperation, frustration—and something else. That, she couldn’t quite pinpoint yet, but the energy he possessed was different. Tensed.  

And she allowed him to take what he needed, to alleviate the pressure before allowing herself to press back into him, hands slipping to hold the fabric at his waist. But she would stop him soon, for most times she would remain quiet. This time though, she wouldn’t.

To Lysander, carnal pleasures were just that, and nothing more. His touch, his lips, devote of real passion, instead relegated to mere human desire. This was how he’d bedded his wife, time and time again. This was how he approached her now, lips careful against hers, hands possessively caressing her lower back.

Colette wasn’t a woman any man in his right mind could complain about. Every inch of her was blindingly attractive, her scent sensual, her cries arousing. It wasn’t difficult at all to share her bed. And yet he always found himself with a semblance of regret. Her gaze was too knowing, her acceptance too easy. Lysander wondered if she hated him. It wouldn't surprise him. 

Still he continued, fingers brushing over the silk of her gown, effortlessly pushing it over her shoulders, exposing her smooth skin and the soft swell of breasts. He left her lips only to tilt her head back and begin a careful study down her jaw, against the softness of her neck, and then further down. Hand dragging over her hips, up her stomach, until they reached her breast. Lips tempting against sensitive skin, thin fabric all that was between them. 

Tension, despite knowing a day like this would come. Tension, because it was finally beginning to sink in. That this was their fate. Tensions, because he couldn’t do anything about it. Couldn’t even agree with her when she tried to bait him in running away with her. Elias had more duty than that. He was frustratingly guided by his moral responsibility. A druid’s words were binding, and that’s exactly what the promise had become: a binding curse.

He didn’t look at her–couldn’t– because it would only remind him that she was never his to keep. Never his to love. And even if the words had never been uttered by either of them, they both understood. His loyalty to hers was more than just one of a servant, a guard and protector. And he wasn’t just the Princess he was assigned to watch over. They had become too inexplicably bound that the thought of being torn apart, but scum of the earth, had Elias tense. On edge. Refusing to acknowledge the ending, because if he didn’t talk about it or look at her, it meant it didn’t exist right? he wouldn’t have to let her go, right?

wrong.

“You can’t do that.” He gritted his teeth, but his gaze remained on the fireplace, still unwilling to look at her. 

"Why not?” She cried out, her voice rising despite her intent to remain calm, and still Elias refused to look at her. Did he really not care what happened to her, to them, now? 

Agatha knew that she had no right to be upset with him. He was the victim and she was the assailant, digging the dagger in deeper when she had the power to alleviate his pain. All she had to do was to let him go. To ask her father to release his spirit back into the wilderness. “Why is it always, no, with you?” She continued, rushing to his side and forcefully making him face her. Her fingers remaining tight over his jaw for a moment before she let go, hand closing into a fist.

 She was going crazy. 

She was on the floor the next instant, her legs having given way, along with her momentary conviction. Of course he was right. Of course they couldn’t run away. She’d been childish. She’d been selfish. 

“Please, don’t leave me.” Selfish. Disgusting. She asked too much of him. 

sold out. never in her life would hani think she would be sold out. the security of her life as part of the guild, the respect and reverence her family held within the secret society was something she never thought would one day lead to their ruin. betrayal was a nasty thing, and when the cards were finally revealed, they were all each arrested and sent to the block with no fair trial. would kind of fairness would they expect? it wasn’t as if she didn’t know the secret dealings behind closed doors. the highest payer would get what they wanted. a bounty was worth more than loyalty she supposed. the worst part was that she feared for her parents more than she did for herself? hani had gotten word they had arrested her father and mother too. what about zachariah? nothing on whether if he had been rounded up like the rest of them. 

but none of that would matter soon enough. because today was the day. today was the day they gave brought her her last meal. the day they untied the knots in front of her hands and pulled them back behind her and slipped the executioners knot around her wrists. today she was given a white shift made of scratchy cotton. to absorb the blood once her head would roll right into the basket placed in from the the town square for all to see. disgraced, apparently. framed for treason. and there was no way to know what happened to her family.

she never feared death. not even as she was lead down the path toward the towering platform like a stage, like a performance for all to see. today she would reach the end of her life. if they expected her to beg for her life, hani would never give them the satisfaction. and as they read the charges on her head, and her family’s name there was a commotion. several bodies fell from the tops of nearby towers. snipers. and no sooner did the crowd begin to gasp did the sound of a flying arrow whiz past her head right between the ears of the executioner. 

that was the signal.

Even in times of turmoil there were those who would lend their services in exchange for good pay. He’d gone beyond the guild, where true lawlessness reigned, and purchased the loyalty of such individuals, if only for a morning. The guild could no longer be trusted, the image of a large family quickly drowning in a sea of blood. They would pay for crossing him so. 

He was already behind the platform when the bodies began falling. A swift blade running over another guards neck soon after. “Now.” A serious of explosions quickly followed, almost as if set off by his words, the crowd’s panic evident as they rushed to escape the square. He had been careful in how he had set up his diversion, but he wasn’t too concerned with a civilian getting hurt. If they had wanted to stay safe, they should have stayed home, and refused the macabre spectacle.