#needtosin

Two neighboring kingdoms. Two wicked kings. A war that had raged on for nearly three years. But things were coming to a head. It wasn’t the first time that Kyro’s army had managed to cross their borders bringing along death and destruction. But they’d never managed to get anywhere near the royal castle. Not until recently. After a siege that had lasted weeks, a couple of Kyro’s highly skilled soldiers had managed to slip between metaphorical cracks in the castle’s walls and capture the consort. Once Theo was acquired, there was no reason to stay. They’d gotten what they’d came for. Little was done to stop Kryo’s men once they had Theo; for fear of the potential harm they might inflict on the consort.

The journey back over the border took nearly a month. By the time they’d arrived at Kyro’s castle Theodore was significantly weakened. He was malnourished and exhausted. The ropes that bound his wrists were bloodied from prolonged friction. Perpetual confinement to the carriage left Theo feeling suffocated. And so, despite his fear, Theodore was simply glad to have made it there alive. After throwing a burlap sack over his head, Kyro’s men grabbed Theo forcibly by his arms and dragged him into the throne room where King Kyro waited, tossing the young consort at the King’s feet. Theo huffed when he hit the floor and let out a long and pitiful groan. All he could think about was how sick he felt. He just wanted to rest. To eat and drink. To have his hands back.

It’s good to be home. She wouldn’t trade her job for the world, but there’s something to be said for American luxuries. Long showers. A well-equipped lab. Air conditioning.

Not to mention the good company. Pushing back from the microscope and setting aside her slides, Sasha stretches, turning to face Marc with a smile.

“I’m all yours. Assuming you’re up for a late night?”

This party was the most boring thing ever, and after all these years, Claudia didn’t know why she kept coming back to them. It was a total schmoozefest, all wealthy and smart and everything in between people rubbing elbows with equally as wealthy and smart people. Yawn. Letting out quite the dramatic sigh into her champagne glass, she spotted him. “That’s why,” she murmured to herself. The man that was talking to someone she didn’t know looked divine, even from across the room, the object of her affections for what felt like forever. He had given into her a few times, but lately had been keeping his distance which just would not do. She needed to catch his attention in the most organic way possible, and as she saw someone pass in her line of vision, she knew she had to do it the classic way: inciting jealousy.

“Hey,” she called out, getting the guy’s attention. With his eyes on her, she recognized him as Mr. Whats-His-Face’s son, about her age. Perfect. “Isn’t this place totally lame?” she asked, his answer determining whether or not she’d bother continuing with this conversation. When he agreed, she knew she had found the object of her affections for the next twenty minutes or so, or at least until he saw her. Whichever one came first.

After dinner with his father, Bradley had made his way back to his cabin on the far side of their land. The night was just like any other. He had a hot shower, put on a pair of shorts, made a fire, and cuddled up on the couch to watch some tv. He was barely into his third episode when he heard a knock on his door. He sat up immediately, alarmed by the sound. You see, no one ever made their way over to his cabin, not even his dad. Bradley jumped up and hastily made his way towards the door, assuming it was his pops in need of help. He pulled the door open only to find Kyros, his drug dealer from back in the city. Bradley’s jaw dropped and hung open for a moment as he struggled to find a single word to say. “I-I”, he stammered, frantically patting his waist. Of course he didn’t have his knife. Why would he? “Kyros? How the hell did you find me out here? What do you want?” Bradley hadn’t seen the man in 5 years and he couldn’t think of a single reason for the man to be at his doorstep, out in the middle of nowhere.