#bah!fic

What good are words

When a smile says it all?

And if this world

Won't write me an ending

What will it take

Just to find that special day?

Summary: Nancy runs away, straight into Marjan's arms.

WC: 1.2k | Chapter: 1/13

When Nancy decides what she has to do, it’s late at night some three weeks before her marriage is set to occur. She doesn’t want to get married. She hates humans and their smelly, oily skin. And more than that, she hates men. She’s known, and her parents have known, since she was a young child how much she hates men. And yet, somehow, they thought it was a smart idea for her to be married off to a human man.

There’s no escaping it if she stays, that much she knows. Her wedding dress is half way done already- she knows because every day they make her try it on and work on it as she wears it to ensure that every seam is perfectly flat, every stitch artfully laid. It’s a bright, pure white, inlaid with diamonds and silver so that it gleams with every movement, catching the light in a way that is typical of ceremonial dresses. Her coronation dress, before they decided to give the title to her younger brother, was full of sapphires and amethysts and platinum. Now the dress lies in her closet in wait for his coronation, where she will stand off the side and applaud with a fake smile.

“It’s better for our alliances,” her mother had explained when she told Nancy the new plan. “Our affiliates want a king, and Alaria needs a queen to rule beside their crown prince.”

“I’ve been studying my whole life to be queen,” Nancy argued.

Summary: Nancy runs away, straight into Marjan’s arms.

WC: 1.1k | Chapter: 2/13

There is blood in the courtyard. Plenty of it. Some of it is the characteristic bright blue-green of the fae, while some of it dark vampiric black. Marjan knows instantly that Mateo did not go down with a fight and, should he still be alive, he is gravely injured. She stares at the mess, not yet mopped up by the maids, as Paul places a steadying hand on her shoulder. Usually, she would brush off such a gesture, but at present, she is too deep in shock to do such a thing. The fae were in her kingdom. They were in her palace. They got close enough to take one of her lovely heirs, Mateo, a young boy so new to being a vampire that he’s still too afraid to take on a live feeder. He’s been in the palace, proving his loyalty to her for nearly a year. She turned him only two weeks ago. He must still be in pain, still be afraid, and they saw fit to take him.

“I see this as a declaration of war,” she tells Paul. He sucks in a breath through his teeth but does not argue with her. “Mateo is an innocent in all these politics. They should have left the boy out of it.”

“We aren’t prepared for a war, Marj.”

“It doesn’t matter. We have to be.”