#jacks writing

Rowan was a holy terror. He fought everyone around him if he could. Now, he was predictable. His annoyances and few likes were easy to foresee. Making things simpler for Warren to care for his King. Being four years Rowan’s senior meant nothing, not when Warren had taken great care to raise him. Warren had taught the seven year old everything that was useful from a life in the pleasure district. 

Now, he watched Rowan become enamored with two gutter punk mercenaries. Much too similar to how he’d come to work in the castle. It wasn’t that Warren cared for the two young men. Not by a mile. They were a danger to his King. He could not let them get any closer.

Despite being taken in by a noble family and forced into lessons that helped him in his journey to becoming Rowan’s royal advisor saving him. He had no care for the job; only Rowan. This care was why he didn’t want Adonis and Arlo to have become so important to Rowan. If they became important then they would surely be the death of him.

“Sire, I suggest you come in. It's quite cold out.” Warren suggested gently. Rowan didn’t even look at him. “It would be a shame for you to catch a cold.” He hated Adonis and Arlo. The street rats were causing his King to put himself into unsafe situations. “Rowan…” 

“I want to see that my knight has returned safely before I rest.” He remained with his back to Warren. 

“I understand, but what use is their return being safe if you are not?” This was his courtier tone. It was only used with Rowan if he was being difficult about his safety. “I cannot let you suffer." 

“I don’t care.” 

“I do,” Warren sighed. “I care for you more than my job requires. You know that.” He hoped it made an impact on Rowan. He needed it to make an impact.

“Oh joy,” Rowan mocked tiredly. None of the usual sadistic joy in his tone. “I told you my plans. By all means, make your own. Don’t let me hold you back.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I really don’t need you here for this.”

“You have no protection if I leave.” Warren would be damned if he left Rowan on his own unguarded. While Rowan was inhumanly strong and fast, his stamina would only allow him to fight for about ten to seventeen minutes. “You know the Church would have my head on a silver platter if you even so much as scraped your knee after I left you.” 

“Hold your tongue if you wish to stay.” Rowan relented. Warren smiled fondly. “Stop with that dopey look.” HIs king was not accustomed to genuine affection, but that was okay. “You stink of opium.” Rowan added the jab in a weak attempt to wound the courtier. It of course did not work. It never did. 

“I know,” Warren chuckled. He’d had a love affair with his sweet poppy mistress even since he could remember. Rowan hated the scent and what opium represented to him personally, but despite the pain it caused his king, Warren couldn’t break it off. As much as he hated it, the substance was something he needed. 

“Oh—I see the torches of their company!" Rowan began to move forward. Warren reached out to snatch his arm. “Unhand me—”

“Let them come to you, my Lord,” Warren soothed. “They are still a ways out—you shouldn’t tire yourself out walking to them.” He also didn’t care to see Adonis and Arlo yet. The mere thought of seeing the man he raised lose all inhibitions around two people that could ruin him was agony. 

Rowan was all Warren had anymore. His King meant more than his own life. Nothing would harm him if he had his way. Nothing would take his life sooner than what was planned. If he could stop the Church from the sacrifice of Rowan, he would. However, even then if he weren’t killed, he’d lose himself to the curse. Warren couldn’t bear the thought of his King slowly slipping away and forgetting himself.

“Why not come in and wait by the fire? I will keep watch and as soon as I see them close enough, I will bring you to them,” He offered an olive branch, in hopes of Rowan taking it.

“…okay,” Rowan murmured. Placing a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder, Warren carefully guided him to the watch tower’s interior. Sitting Rowan down by the fire pit, he draped a woolen blanket over him. “Thank you.” 

“Of course, Rowan.” Warren couldn't help the soft smile that spread on his lips. “I’ll go keep watch.” 

“Wait… stay with me—he can keep watch and tell you.” Pointing at a guard, the King averted his gaze. 

Warren knew Rowan well enough to see how vulnerable his King felt. “Of course, Sire. I will stay as long as you will have me.” Sitting next to him, the courtier was surprised when Rowan offered him part of the blanket. Giddiness filled him. Whenever he was accepted by his boy, Warren’s heart would soar. 

A valiant effort truly. Maybe he really could have solved it. If anyone other than Yugi could, he was certain it’d be Kaiba. The man was certainly determined enough. “Atem!” Mana poked his cheek. “Have you listened to a word I said?”

He blinked and refocused on her. “Sorry…got distracted.”

She rolled her eyes. Pulled them both to a stop. Crossed her arms, skewering him under a critical eye. “You’ve been weird ever since you got back.” She paused and added, “Again.” He shrugged, but she wasn’t done. “You didn’t have to destroy the puzzle.” “I did,” Atem said. Looked past her at the sand dunes out the window. They rolled like ocean waves beyond the palace and phantom recreation of Khemet. “I can’t have anyone messing with those items anymore. It only leads to trouble.” He threw out his arm. “I mean, look at what just happened!” Mana shrugged. “I guess.” She kept a critical eye on him. “I just hate seeing you so sad.”

Atem scoffed. “I’m not sad. What reason would I have to be sad? I’m finally here, back with all of you. Where I’m meant to be.”

“I agree, but you’ve been moping nonstop the last six months. The first real excitement I’ve seen out of you was when we realized the puzzle was being reassembled. You leapt at the possibility of returning to the living world.” “Yugi was in trouble. They all were. It’s my duty to protect them.”  “Sure. Whatever you say. Keep lying to yourself.”

“I’m not-”

“My lord?” Karim said. “Apologies for the interruption.”

Atem withheld a sigh at the formality and faced him. Smiled at his old friend. “Yes?”

“There’s…someone approaching the palace.”

“Someone?” How was that possible? No one could enter this realm without his knowledge. “Do we know who?”

“It looks like…Seto Kaiba, my king.”

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“Miss, take me with you!” The pale, bloodied, and beaten boy clinging to Casca’s cape begged with tears running down his face. “They—they’ll hang me!” His left eye was swollen shut. ”I can do anything for you!” The blood caked in his wheat gold hair was a mix of his own and that of the man he killed. “Please take me with you!” His voice broke as his malnourished body shook with violent, choking gasps.

“You can come, but you must pull your weight.”

“Thank you!” His good eye, a striking amber, sparkled with hope and gratitude.

“Here, we gotta go,” Casca grunted roughly as she grabbed his small hand. She couldn’t look at the boy as he limped beside her. It was obvious this lad was a rent boy. The man he killed was his master. 

They had walked briskly in silence for about a block before shouting was heard. No doubt the man’s body was found. 

“Shit…” Casca muttered as the boy locked up before his knees buckled. “C’mon, kid, we don’t have time for this!” She yanked him forward. Serving only to get his shaking form to fall forward limply. “Kid! Get up or we’re both in trouble!” 

“I-I can’t! My legs—they won’t work,” The boy answered, hysterical with fear. He began to cry again.

Casca groaned and quickly scooped the boy up and ran. The pounding of her heart drowned out the sounds of her boots on the wet cobblestone. She cursed the noble who flaked on her. 

If the bag of lard hadn’t pussed out, she wouldn’t have been wandering the streets. If she hadn’t been wandering the streets, she wouldn’t have been caught in the rain. If she hadn’t been caught in the fucking rain, she wouldn’t have searched for shelter and found the rent boy being beaten within an inch of his life. And if she hadn’t found this damn kid, she wouldn’t have given him the means to kill his master, putting her in this situation!

The shouting had long since faded, but she kept running. Running helped her get out her anger. It wasn’t as good as fighting, but it would do. The boy was clinging to her, arms wrapped so tightly around her neck it should’ve cut off air flow. It didn’t matter to Casca. No human, let alone a boy, could come near killing her, not anymore.

They were back at the inn where Casca was staying far too soon. She kept the boy in her arms as she requested her horse. If she set him down and lost him, he could be found and killed. Then all this would be for nothing.

Her stallion, a black barb, was brought to her, and she immediately set the boy in the saddle before mounting behind him. Then she dug her spurs into the beast’s sides and let out the command to go. They tore out of the town.

The sky was blue-gray and still heavy with clouds. It could start raining again at any moment. Unfavorable, to say the least. It would take a couple of hours to get back to her men. Well, it would’ve if the downpour hadn’t begun.

“We can’t keep going in this weather… Shit, we’ll take shelter in the forest.” There was no reason for her to say this out loud, other than that Casca was used to giving orders. It was hard the first time she had been a commander, all those years ago. Before the Eclipse. Before she became a monster herself.

“Okay.” The boy answered in a timid voice, causing the woman to look over her shoulder at him in surprise. “I–I’m sorry!” He flinched and covered his face.

“Don’t apologize for no reason,” Casca had to focus not to snap at him. “For the first thing you do for me, I want you to only apologize if you hurt someone or break something. Okay?” 

The constant, needless apologies would drive her up the wall. The kid nodded despite still looking scared. They were quiet as Casca got off the horse and led it into the forest. Once under enough cover, she helped the boy down.

“It’s too wet to start a fire, so the canopy is all we’ll have.” The kid nodded and huddled up against the trunk of an oak. He was shivering so much that his teeth were chattering. Sighing, Casca undid her cape and walked over to him, dropping it in his lap. “It’s not dry, but it’s better than nothing,” She offered. The boy was silent, his good eye widened, and he sniffled before bursting into tears. “Hey! Hey! Are you okay?” Casca knelt in front of him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Y–yeah, I just—no one’s ever been this nice to me,” The boy blubbered.

“What’s your name?” Casca couldn’t let herself dwell on his words.

“It’s Von, but I don't get called it often…” He mumbled absently as he wrapped the crimson cape around his shoulders. “Can, can I keep this? It’s so soft!” Von’s good eye was shining while he snuggled into the oddly enough rough fabric. “Are you a knight?” He looked at her curiously. 

“No, no, not me. I’m a mercenary.” 

It was enough to make Erend’s stomach flip and his heart flutter, but then Aloy always had that effect on him. One smile was all it took to have him wrapped around her finger, and a single word to bring him running. Better men had been ruined by less, but for all her strength, Aloy was a gentle hand with the people who loved her, thank his lucky stars. The Oseram were well known for the durability of their armor and the strength of their weapons, but Erend had no defenses when it came to the huntress that had so easily snared his heart, and he’d rather bare his throat to her than ever raise a hand in her direction.

The sun fell and as the night finally brought a reprieve to the blistering heat of the day, Erend coaxed Aloy into a walk along the canals. It took surprisingly little effort on his part, and the man wasn’t sure if that last pint of ale had given his already silver tongue an extra edge, or if it had simply made his lovely companion more amenable to distraction; he wasn’t about to question his good luck either way.

Conversation flowed easily as they walked side-by-side under the pale light of the moon, and Erend’s heart felt lighter than it had in ages as he watched Aloy throw her head back and laugh at his latest tale, red hair cascading down her back in heavy waves the man longed to run his fingers through. He knew he was grinning like a besotted idiot, but he allowed himself the luxury of watching her for a moment longer, at least until she got herself back under control and looked at him again, tears of mirth in her bright eyes. Erend turned his face from her in hopes of schooling his expression into something less obvious, one hand absently smoothing his mustache to disguise the infatuated curve of his lips.

Distracted as he was, Erend was caught off guard when he turned back to look at Aloy and found her significantly closer than she had been the moment before, scant inches between their bodies. The shock of it made the man inhale sharply, filling his nose with the scent of her; the ale they’d just drank, the leather of her tunic, and a pleasant blend of herbs and flowers he couldn’t begin to identify. Rattled, heart pounding frantically behind his ribs, Erend tried to ask what she was doing, but the words wouldn’t come, seemingly dried up at the source, and only retreating further when he saw her gaze drop from his eyes, to his lips, and then back up again.

Aloy closed the remaining distance between them, hands lighting on his chest for support as she went up on her toes to catch his lips with hers and Erend wondered if he hadn’t had too much to drink after all and was passed out face down in his pillow at home. That’s usually the sort of circumstances he wound up having these dreams in, after all. But then, he didn’t think he had the imagination to fabricate the way her fingers felt as they curled into the fabric of his shirt, or the pleasant solidity of her body pressed flush against his.

The kiss was forthright and sincere as the woman herself was; inexpert but tender, and completely breathtaking. So much so that Erend forgot to breathe at all until Aloy broke contact, settling back on her heels once more, flushed and pensive as the vanguardsman finally managed to take a ragged, unsteady breath. He opened his mouth to try and speak again, but only managed a croak, making the pretty redhead lift a brow and purse her (wonderfully soft) lips in an attempt to school her expression. She withdrew her hands from his chest and Erend immediately missed them, kicking himself mentally to say something, say anything before she wound up with the wrong damn idea-

“I-… why?” he finally managed to say, voice rough, but a long sight better than the croak that had escaped him a moment before. It wasn’t the question he wanted to ask, but it was the one ricocheting most violently around his, ecstatic, if bewildered, brain like a charger in a pottery shop.

Aloy’s other brow went up to match the first, then relaxed again as she studied his face, seeming to search for the reason behind his question. He had no idea if she found her answer, but after a moment, direct as ever, she answered,  “I like your mouth.”

Erend blinked. “You… like my mouth,” he repeated dumbly, completely thrown by her unexpected answer.

She nodded, the blush across her freckled cheeks deepening under his regard and, possibly for the first time, her gaze darted nervously away from his. “You know-” Aloy tried again, gesturing helplessly towards his face as she glanced back up at him from under her lashes. “-the shape of your lips. The way they move when you talk. How you, uh… smile. I like it.” The huntress recovered enough then to lift her chin in silent challenge and met his gaze once more, as if daring him to laugh at her.

He didn’t of course. Erend was too busy marveling that Aloy had somehow managed to make him love her even more, though if you’d asked him five minutes earlier, he would have claimed that such a feat was impossible.

Still, he was mischievous by nature and, despite feeling like his heart might give out at any moment, Erend couldn’t help but ask, “Oh yeah? What about the rest of me?”

Aloy scowled and he smiled, unable to resist doing so any more than the sun could cease rising in the east. He half expected her to call him a chuff, but instead, she went quiet for a moment, then crossed her arms over her chest and said, “I like that too. For some reason.” Erend’s smile widened into an outright grin and she quickly added, “All-mother only knows why, th-”

This time, it was the huntress caught off guard as her would-be prey stepped in close and silenced her with another kiss. Erend didn’t wrap his arms around her out of concern that he might scare her off (or get punched), though that didn’t stop him resting one hand along her jaw so he could sweep the pad of his thumb across the swell of her cheek. Aloy was totally still for a moment, long enough that Erend nearly pulled away, worried that he’d misread her, but then her lips were moving against his, mimicking the gentle coaxing movement of his own. He’d long suspected Aloy was inexperienced, but as in everything the woman put her mind to, she was a quick study, and it wasn’t long before Erend found himself questioning his initial assessment on the matter.

They parted after a minute and Erend knew he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when Aloy was smiling right back at him; sweet and shy but thoroughly pleased with herself.

“I like your mouth too, just for the record,” he informed her.

Knocking at the doors signaled that breakfast had arrived. With that, Njeri escorted the other maids out of the room and left the King and the knight together. Adonis was the only one allowed in the room when Rowan ate. It was awkward at first. The King didn’t even pay attention to him. Eating and reading a book. But then, Rowan decided he liked to make small talk. Well, more like grilling Adonis on his past.

“Adonis, come here.” Rowan patted a spot on the bed beside him. “Would you like some? It’s got smoked veal.” He held a slice of sausage between his fingers from the plate of bread, cheese, and other slices of sausage. “I’m not all that hungry today, and they always prepare too much food.”

Adonis was about to deny his request when his stomach growled. Shit. Rowan smiled at him with glee. With a tremendous sigh, the knight moved to take that slice.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Rowan sang, shaking his head with a playful gesture as he pulled his hand away. “Open your mouth.”

“What?” Adonis stared at the guy across from him. Emphasis on guy. Man, boy, whatever you want to call him. Rowan is male. He said it himself. There was no way Adonis was going to let another guy hand-feed him meat!

“Open your mouth.” Rowan giggled with a sly expression.

“No?”

“Don’t be a bitch about it.” Rowan’s face shifted from a joyful expression to one that was alarmingly grim.

“Hey! I’m not—”

“But you are,” The King hissed. “You will not eat a King’s breakfast. What is surely better than the food you are being fed as a knight, because you are a little bitch.” The sheer venom in his words almost caused Adonis to fall off the bed. Rowan never once talked to him like this before. Sure, he’d seen him this surly with others, but himself? Not once! “Open your mouth if you want to prove you are a man.” He once more held up the sausage. Adonis opened his mouth, doing as he was told, if only out of fear.

“Good boy!” Rowan grinned as his features immediately shifted to an impish grin. Adonis flushed as he felt the sausage and slender fingers brush his lips. This isn’t right! It-it is lewd! He was panicking, and Rowan’s stupid lips’ alluring quality distracted him.

Adonis jolted from his alarming thoughts when those fingers pressed against his tongue. Rowan asked him something, but he didn’t hear it over the beating of his own heart. Then, the King withdrew his fingers, leaving the sausage feeling like a thousand pounds on the muscle. He quickly chewed and swallowed the slice.

“Adonis? Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah…?” No! No, I’m not, you little freak! Adonis was shaking. He didn’t know why, but whatever it was, his stomach was tying itself in knots. He hoped he would not throw up in front of, or, Angels forbid, on the King.

“Mhm, sure.”

“I am!” Was he? He wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t, and the freak that owned him for sure knew it. “You can’t just stick your fingers in another guy’s mouth, dammit!”

“But I can. I’m King. You’re my knight. You do as I say, no?” The emphasis on ‘my’ concerned him.

“No!”

What happened next would forever keep Adonis wary of Rowan. The stinging pain on the left side of his face and eye was all Adonis could register after seeing Rowan reach for a knife. He struggled to pull back in time to avoid the knife entering his eye socket.

He remembered little after that. Something with Rowan yelling and people rushing him to the infirmary. The next thing Adonis knew, someone was rubbing a salve onto the cut with great force.

“Can you see from your left eye?” Rowan’s tone was airy. Of course, he was the one applying the salve as if trying to finish the job. Adonis opened both eyes. There to greet him was the King with a bright and joyful expression. “Oh, good. You can.” He chuckled.

“You almost took out my fuckin’ eye!” Adonis yelled as he scooted further back on the bed, trying to get away from the little freak. Who only crawled onto the bed to follow. “Hey! Hey! Hey! Stay away from me!” He tried to shove him away, but Rowan grabbed his wrists and squeezed. Adonis knew the grip was going to leave bruises. “Let me go! Ow! Ow! Somethin’ is gonna fucking break!” How could someone so small and frail have such strength? His mind screamed as he tried to yank his hands away.

“Don’t fight me.” The threat hung heavy after Rowan let him go a couple of seconds later. “Don’t ever fight me. Okay?” He wasn’t smiling. His eyes were fiery as he glared at Adonis. “Your place is to serve me. You have no right to fight me.” Silence was all that followed; Adonis found no way to respond. He surely had a reason to fight Rowan. The King was a dick, and all Adonis had was fighting.

“My Lord?” A page’s nervous voice called out. A boy, likely a year younger than Adonis, stood there watching the scene unfold. That’s when Adonis realized Rowan was very much kneeling between his thighs as he leaned back on the bed. The King barked at the page to speak, showing no concern for his compromising position with Adonis. “S-Seer Rami is in the library.”

“Good! You found him.” Rowan was back to a chipper mood, it seemed. He sprang off the bed. “Adonis, come,” he ordered as he looked over his shoulder.

This was a fucking nightmare. And what the hell was that shit Rowan put on his cut? Adonis assumed it was magical. With the fact that his cut was healed, it was the only explanation he could think of. Knights and servants alike often referenced the royal witches’ coven in whispers, so it seemed to be the only actual answer.

“Now.”