“I don’t want this to be a one night thing that you’ll regret one day.” “I won’t… And it won’t be.” Driven
“We crossed a line.” “Oh, we did more than cross it.” Skicy
Hello my beautiful twin! I have written and I failed to be smutty again!
“I don’t want this to be a one-night thing that you’ll regret one day.”
“I won’t… And it won’t be.”
If there existed a 101 Book about being a witch, there would most definitely be a set of rules that one must follow to uphold a perfect vision of one. The sacred commandments would be treated not as guidance but as an absolution. They might also give a hand in abhorring a version of a witch everyone sees in Magix. Why would you leave a box when it was so nice and cozy inside? You fit there so well that the sheer idea of even moving furniture (don’t even think about repainting walls) could be seen as treason, insanity.
‘We are witches! Aren’t we supposed to break rules?’ Stormy’s voice echoed in her skull, so clearly that Darcy could not help but answer in the confines of her head.
‘Not these Stormcloud. These are not rules. They are obligations.’ Prohibitions, suppressions, and all that was necessary in order to keep peace and balance. She was a witch of chaos. Master of illusions. Why would causing disarray be anything but following the rules to the T? She wouldn’t be the first nor last one to break the rules—
‘The one you broke, Darcy, was for selfless reasons!’
If there was a voice of reason in her deranged head, its name was Icy. Unfortunately for both of them, she was an expert at shutting it down. She loved pushing it right into the corner of the box, shoving the heavy bookcase on top, and then entering her sweet delusion where she somehow became brave enough to leave the fucking box.
‘Only to be committed into Asylum the moment your foot goes past the threshold,’ She thought bitterly. Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath and exhaled. No worry of hers was exhaled, but the placebo effect of her body sinking into the mattress worked its wonders.
Witches were brave, cunning, intelligent, ambitious, selfish, and most of all!
They didn’t choose love over their goals. To the surprise of many, the book didn’t discourage a dark magic user from love or falling in love. Love was natural, also could be quite powerful if utilized correctly. Love powerful enough to unite the worst beings to ever walk across the realms, spreading chaos and death everywhere they went.
Who in their right state of mind would be against that?
A smart witch would use love and knew when it was time to let things go.
When Icy said it was time, she abandoned Riven…by leaving him a metal wire in a cell created by her that used no magic to imprison him, then told her babies to stand by and make sure once he jumped out of the window he would land safely and be able to find weapons AND thanks to their lessons in detecting magic knew where the barrier ended so he wouldn’t be captured again but be rescued by his friends.
…it even sounded more pathetic when listed out loud.
She squeezed her eyes. Fists tightly gripping the duvet she was under. She curled into a pathetic excuse for a ball, fearing the morning sun.
After escaping Light Rock, she got her chance to redeem herself…as a witch, not as a citizen—an opportunity to prove to everyone how love was below her and held no power over her.
She couldn’t attack him. He was right there, and all she could do was watch as her sisters giggled sinisterly as he fell to the floor. Every fiber of her being was begging her to dash to him and use her healing powers to remove the ugly wounds and the undeserved pain.
Maybe it was for the best, after all; it wasn’t like it would become some sort of sick pattern… right?
She nuzzled into the gripped duvet, fearing to open her eyes.
Calling it a pattern was an understatement. There was one thing where she failed to attack him.
It was another where he avoided doing so as well.
Both skipping to the next person, flying past each other, even in direct line, somehow they would miss the charge or a swing. With time, the dance came naturally to them. Even without a mental connection, their mind easily synced and performed the greatest lie before the entire Magix Universe.
The play carried on, and nothing seemed to be looking like the final Act. Until the impossible happened.
Not as an off in their toxic relationship (said woman who started to date him thanks to the accident she caused) or a break they were infamous for. Actual end where both finally decided to put on their adult pants and do the hard thing. Talk.
And listen to one another.
Musa, being at that time mute, might have helped Riven to get a word in, but REGARDLESS—
It led to the situation she was currently in.
In his apartment, after she found him wandering in the woods thanks to her daily pep talks that were meant to encourage her into sticking with Selina and whatever shit she was planning to read from her cursed book. They exchanged pleasantries and…she struggled to recall. Suddenly, she was using her shadows to get them as fast to the apartment as possible. Her arms around his neck, gasping for air from the frantic and passionate kisses, his hands deciding if he should remove her pants or her top next.
Her back flat on the bed.
Him hovering right above her, his intense eyes watching her like prey.
Now she feared facing him. The moment his arms left her form, she swiftly shuffled to the very edge where she drowned in her never-ending fountain of what ifs. She hadn’t moved an inch, paralyzed and not ready to stand before the crushing reality that this passionate night was…just that.
Her eyes welled up, as if she were some lovesick fairy. The groan right next to her froze her body, eyes snapped open, her breath already trapped in her throat. Her illusion crumbled down like a building during an earthquake. She was the only casualty. The body moved behind her, his arm searching for something but coming empty-handed. Another groan, but this one sounded annoyed. Darcy had no problem imagining his brows furrowing and his jaw tightening.
“The fuck you thought would happen knowing her—”
The sentence was cut short. While he tried to sit up, his arm brushed against her back. In her head, only one coherent thought.
At the speed of light, she jumped out of the bed; the duvet landed right on Riven’s face. With his face covered, he only heard the clothes being picked up and some whining as she attempted to put them on.
She always moved so quietly. Forever tiptoeing everywhere she went.
He threw the cover down and shouted after her as she was about to jump into her beloved shadows. Her hair disheveled. Even with her back facing him, he noticed how she was standing rigidly. Either she was anxious or in pain.
Knowing what occurred hours before he bet on both.
Her breathing grew louder in her ears, failing to focus on anything but her own idiocy for not leaving sooner. So lost in her mountain of despair, she failed to hear him get up, move across the floor, and reach her side. Her mouth fell open, her breath stolen, as the strong arms snaked their way around her, pulling her into his chest. The shadows stilled, returning to their original shape.
He tightened the embrace. The moment he nuzzled his forehead against the back of her head, the box’s wall fell. Her hands on top of his arms, keeping him in place, her face in his neck. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t heavy. It was needed to make the final decision, something she had been putting off for years.
“I don’t want this to be a one-night thing that you’ll regret one day.” She mumbled into his neck, and a layer of tears gathered on her lashes. Unable to move his arms, he pecked her exposed shoulder right where the love bite was. A corner of his mouth lifted after hearing her react.
“I won’t… And it won’t be.” He murmured into her skin. Only then did he feel her finally relax in her arms.
And the book can go and fuck itself.
“Oh, we did more than cross it.”
The first morning sun rays illuminated the space in one of the military-focused rooms. There, right in the middle, was a great table meant to strategize battles and tactics for any upcoming warfare. Each pawn represented what the kingdom of Eraklion had to offer. From infantry to spaceships and magical users. On the opposite side, the enemy. Their numbers were great, but most had to be estimated as leaning toward the true power, which was borderline impossible. Every spy was swiftly disposed of. Every traitor was either hanged or had their head cut off.
Walls were covered by tapestries representing various moments from the history of the kingdom. The great battle in Hagen. The Treaty of Isles. Completion of the main palace. The light easily found abandoned empty glasses of wine, though the bottles were in the shadows of the table underneath. Whenever the day of planning was scheduled, both maids and palace keepers, it would be hours before a single person would emerge from the room. It was often down to the oldest maid to remind the royals and nobles that the food deserves something more than going cold and ending up in the waste bin.
Normally, once the room was evacuated, it was cleaned until not a single sign of any life could be spotted. The curtains would be drawn for the night and then opened to welcome the new day. Of course, in a perfect world, it would be a daily routine, but in reality, more often than one would imagine, palace keepers would find the highly positioned men and women asleep either at the strategy table or on one of the couches.
The room didn’t exist solely for the harshness of war but also as a space where one could enjoy one of the thousands of books stored here regarding the history of the realm. Was there anything better than a glass of wine, some light dinner, and a book in hand? Right in the middle of the wall facing the trail of windows was a fireplace. Erakion’s winters weren’t harsh, but the room was known for facing the east side of the palace, where winds could be particularly cruel and unforgiving. Especially during the colder months. There was even a cashmere blanket that could be found perfectly folded right next to the arm set.
Instead, there was a woman who was breathing peacefully. Her porcelain skin was cool to the touch, often a victim of a sun that was slowly reaching her from the higher it climbed the sky. Her eyelids moved, their owner returning to the land of the living, and the first thing that welcomed her was pain behind her eyes and the heavy weight on top of her. She attempted to move her arm, but it was futile. Trapped under the same thing that engulfed her body. With her growing annoyance, she finally opened her eyes and…
She knew this shade of blond.
Her mind in mids of refusal proceeded to scan the area to find any other reason behind her current state.
It was getting late, and oh look, her shoes…followed by her top, skirt, and—
“To be a victim of alcohol. How degrading.” It wasn’t Icy’s first time drinking for fucks sake. She knew Eraklion’s wine, then why—
That drained thanks to everything?
Darcy did mention multiple times that she was looking rather tired and should take a pause, but that was Darcy. Like she was going to listen to a person who once cried in the middle of a street after a raven hit a window display in the shop.
Guess who now owns another unnecessary animal?
Thank the Ancestors, she was living with another stray she found hurt on the streets. Keep them all huddled up together as long as she keeps them away from HER.
It was pure business. She came here and did her job, yet somehow never reached the end of a strategy meeting or her apartment’s door that night. Or at the very least, her old bedroom here at the palace.
She gazed down, the prince still asleep despite being raised as the morning bird. She would gladly fix that.
Well then. With one final push, the prince woke up with a painful moan as he hit the floor below. He began to frantically look around, trying, just like her, to gather information. In the meantime, Icy unfolded the blanket found on the floor and covered herself with it.
Her legs crossed. Looking bored. Maybe at times amused. After what felt like ages, their eyes met. His brows skyrocketed to his hairline. He began to mumble something under his breath as he looked for his boxers.
“Nothing I didn’t see.” She commented, stopping his search. He marched to her, she lazily lifted her head to look him in the eyes.
Very angry eyes. More with himself than her.
She shrugged, leaning back into the couch. “I am not laughing, as you can see.” Hands in her lap, she sat with such elegance and grace that one would mistake the blanket for the newest piece from Szronnel. Hand went through his hair, his brows heavily knitted over flickering eyes.
He began to pace. “We crossed a line.” His hands kept on moving, either pulling on his hair or rubbing his face anxiously
“Oh, we did more than cross it.” Her eyes moved, following the royal. “We saw it, stepped on it so many times that at this point the line only exists as a way of speech.”
“Icy.” He turned his head to her, eyes burning. “I have a fiancée”
She sighed, perfectly calm and collected. “Your father cheated and has a prosperous marriage.”
“That’s not the point.” He mumbled into his hands.
She stood up. Sky instantly closed his eyes and waited until she tapped him on his arm. The blanket was folded around her model-like figure. Only she could pull off wearing a blanket while staying very nude underneath.
She took a step closer. “We had wine, we were tired, and if I hear you moan about it one more time—”
A heartbeat later, his face was inches away from her…or would be if she were wearing her heels. Eyes never darting away. Gazing into a summer’s horizon or a frosted wonderland.
Someone knocked on the door. “Your highness? Are you in the room? May I enter?”
His lips parted to respond.
“Prepare me a bath and a breakfast in the gardens. It better be placed in the shade.” He could only watch as she made her demand. No hesitation, no screaming, and with nothing but confidence.
There was a pregnant pause.
“Of course, Lady Icierbella. If I may only ask—”
“I will eat in here. I still have a couple of things I want to go over.” Her lips curved, not mockingly. It was the enjoyment of both irritating him and seeing him act like a future king.
“I will send maids to clean the room and to prepare a bath for your highness. Good day.” The door closed. His gaze shifted back to her.
His words died in his throat when she grasped his arms, and the carefully wrapped blanket fell to her feet, exposing everything. She leaned closer, her ponytail caressing her perfect ivory skin.
“Safe in the golden chains, isn’t how the saying goes.” She smirked and marched to the door, not even trying to cover herself up. He frowned, his hand already reaching for the blanket when Icy shouted down the corridor.
“If I see one person ogling me, you will have a king to answer to for denigrating my name. Is that clear!?”
The door slammed shut. His body filled with admiration and pure awe.
‘Only one queen walked down these corridors, and today only confirmed it.’
•─────⋅☾ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊☽⋅─────•
Thank you so much for asking!
