Nico separated their lips to slowly pull Bel's shirt off, his hands immediately touching the dark skin of his stomach and chest. "Worn you out? I'm surprised you haven't worn me out? I am an old man after all," Nico said as if he wasn't only a couple years older.
He backed away from Bel and motioned to the bed. "Go lay down. I have a lesson I need to teach you don't I?" There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Someone has misbehaved and awful lot today haven't they."
Bel immediately notices the switch in atmosphere, falling back into a role he didn't even know he had. "You're not that old," Bel responds with a small smile. Their age difference couldn't be more than just a few years. Nico has experience, which Bel quite likes.
With a small and exasperated shake of his head, Bel approaches the bed and sits on the edge of it. "I've never misbehaved a day in my life. I told you, it's not my fault the waiter found me attractive–" he claims with hardly any power behind it.
Nico had to fight to keep the laugh off of his face. He couldn't keep away the small smile that appeared for a moment before he was able to will it away. He stalked towards Bel as he sat on the bed, leaning over him and placing his hands on the bed on either side of him.
"I think that's a lie. I think you misbehave all the time. You just never got caught until now." Nico would enjoy it if Bel misbehaved more often, he thought. He would enjoy it quite alot. "No I suppose you can't help he found you attractive. You are a very handsome man. However, you could have told him to stop anytime and you didn't. You need to be taught who you belong to."
With Nico caging him in, Bel's heart begins to race. He smiles and lays down fully, his head just short of the pillow. "I don't know what you're talking about," he claims, raising his chin with a sharkish smile. "I'm afraid you'll just have to show me."
Bel knows that everything is moving fast–maybe too fast, but he can't even care. It's the most attention he's received in a decade and the most comfortable he's ever felt around another person. Nico, though their relationship has been short, is someone Bel wouldn't mind spending forever with–spending endless nights just like this.
Nico climbed uo his body until he was hovering over him. He had a coy smile on his lips. Oh, he was certainly going to show Bel. "Scoot up so your head is on the pillow. Hold onto the headboard and don't let go. You let go and I stop."
Nico was certainly up to something and he wasn't going to make this easy for for Bel. He was going ti drag this on, not letting Bel have his satisfaction for a while. He would eventually, Nico would fall to the charm at some point, but he coukd hold out for awhile.
(I have a plan so there's no fade to black whoopsies)
(ohoho 👀)
Bel had only read about things like this when he was holed up in his room. While he enjoyed reading them, he had never expected something like this to happen–especially with a man as handsome as Nico. Leaning up, Bel quickly kisses Nico before setting his head back on the pillow. He carefully reaches up and feels the solid wood of the headboard beneath his hands.
He knows that this will be different than all the times in the past. Nico had been gentle before, but Bel knows that he had been holding back. Now that their unsaid barrier had been crossed, Bel's going to expect the intensity to be raised tenfold. It's something he's quite ready for.
(hehe :D )
Nico sat back on his heels, taking a moment to look down at Bel. Wholly submissive, wholly ready. But no, Nico was going to take his time. Bel would be whining and begging by the time he was done and he still didn't plan to give in just yet. Bel needed to be taught a lesson and he was ready to teach it. Nico leaned down, hovering over him and just barely brushing his lips across Bel's but never fully kissing him. He moved onto his cheek before attaching his lips to his neck.
Apparently, his work wasn't noticeable enough. Nico needed to rectify that. He went over each sore bruise on the skin and darkened it. No one would question it now whether Nico had a lover or not. He did and it was Nico.
Bel's breath hitches as Nico almost kisses him, but then moves on to latch onto his neck. His skin makes the marks subtler, much harder to notice in comparison to someone with Nico's skin tone. Nevertheless, Bel's sure they'll be noticeable when Nico's done with him after the night. His hum turns into a small groan as Nico works, his fingers tightening around the headboard.
Well, at least Bel's sure no attractive waiters will be eyeing him after this–not without risking Nico's temper.
Nico's lips pulled up in a smirk as he heard the sound he elicited from Bel. It was music to his ears. When he was satisfied with he marks on his neck, he slowly worked his way to his chest and stomach. Every piece of skin was met by Nico's lips. Nothing was left untouched. He left soft kisses and left hard ones that left another mark or two. He had every plan to torture Bel tonight. His thoughts, his heart, his senses were all Bel. It was why he never saw it coming.
The window broke as a man swung through it. Another followed after him and the door was kicked open. There were hands grabbing Nico, pulling him off. Hands were grabbing Bel, pulling him to his feet. Blades were drawn and pressed against each of their necks. Where were the others? Why didn't they see this? What had happened to them? Likely the same things that had happened to him.
Their faces were covered so he couldn't see any of them. They didn't speak, they didn't make any noise. Nothing to identify them by. Nico struggled to get out of their grasp, to get to Bel, but the blade was only dug into his skin and he felt the blood drip down his neck. Then someone very familiar walked into the room. Ronan Erro. Leader of the brotherhood, otherwise known as the most bloodthirsty witch hunter. He had been hunting Nico for years. He had only succeeded once in capturing him. Nico wouldn't let that happen again.
"Well look who it is boys, Nicandros Callistar. The king who never will be. You escaped me once but you won't do it again. Not this time." Ronan looked at Bel. "And who's your little lover here? No matter, he'll die with you."
( :D )
(D: oh no)
Bel's eyes are closed, his body relaxed, his entire will submitted to the man above him. The first crash causes him to startle, his eyes opening as he sits up–but all he sees is a man before Nico's yanked from off of him and Bel's being dragged himself. He cries as his arms are pulled behind him and painfully twisted–held by a man three times Bel's size. Bel's breath hitches–for a much different reason than last–as a sharp blade is held to his throat. Panic bubbles in Bel's chest as his eyes cloud over.
The man, the leader, that enters causes Bel's eyes to widen. The king who will never be. He looks to Nico, then to the man. Surely he has to be lying. Nico wouldn't be–he couldn't– "Nico–" Bel whispers, his voice pleading as his hands begin to shake. The king. They're lying. Nicandros Callistar. They have to be lying.
(Oh yes :D )
Nico inhaled sharply. No. No! He was supposed to have more time to reveal himself. To tell Bel. And now it was ruined. He saw it the moment Bel looked at him. He opened his mouth to respond but Ronan beat him to it. "Oh you didn't know? Sorry to spoil the surprise." The man grinned. He walked closer to Bel. "I recognize you. Where have I seen you before?"
Nico growlerd. "You get away from him." He fought against the men holding him, the blade stinging as it cut into his skin more. "Bind his hands," Ronan said. "I don't need to lose another man because he decided to pull the air out of his lungs. And don't kill him just yet, I have plans." Nico was forced to the ground as the men wrestled to tie his arm behind his back.
Ronan approached the Prince, leaning in to get a good look. "I know who you are. Prince Belicoril. Oh will your father be pleased to see you. Or not, seeing your company. This is my lucky day. I've got the false king and a prince to return home. I can already feel my pickets getting heavy." He laughed, looking back at Nico on the ground who's nose was bleeding now. "I can't believe you let yourself fall in love again. Remember what happened last time? Because i do."
Of course I didn't know– Bel thinks. Of course he didn't know that Nico had been plotting his demise since before they even met. Bile forms in the back of his throat, his eyes sting, and he tries to struggle against the man's holding.
Bel jerks his head away, trying to move out of the man's scrutinizing glare, but his holder's grip is far too tight for Bel to get much of anywhere. "Who are you?" Bel chokes, trying to suppress his rising anxiety. Nico's forced to the ground and tied. His nose is bleeding. Knowing that seeing Nico bleed will only make him sick, Bel turns back to the man, to the leader. He raises his chin and grits his teeth. His stomach falls as the leader announces his name, his title, his father. Bel was supposed to have another week until his father noticed his absense. He was supposed to have more time until he was dragged back to Araniel. "Why do you come for us?"
Ronan just smiled at the prince. Teeth showing and utterly terrifying. He placed his hands behind his back, thoroughly enjoying this. "My name is Ronan. I'm your father's best witch hunter. I've been searching for this one ever since he escaped me last time, not something I plan on letting happen again. He's going to be locked up in the darkest hole for the rest of his days. Which won't be very long." He kicked Nico in the stomach, the latter groaning and attempting to curl into himself. "And I'm going to take you right back to your father's side. You're not supposed to be here. You're supposed to be on your way to getting married. I'm sure you father will be pleased with you, even more so when he sees the company you have." Obvsioulsy, he meant that the king would be very unpleased.
"Of course, that's with the assumption that this one behaves." He pointed at the man on the ground. "If not, well, it wouldn't be that hard to kill you and blame him." Ronan moved to kneel down beside Nico. "You hear that? I'll still kill your little prince if you don't behave yourself."
The shake in Bel's hands move towards the rest of his body, his knees rapidly weakening and threatening to collapse. Ronan is a man Bel has never heard of in his life–the witchhunters usually kept under firm lock and key. Cevineire is the closest to one he's ever met, and she's just the captain of the palace guard. Bel wishes he had Miran's strength to stand straight and spit into Ronan's eye, but he just shakes and tries to back away.
Despite all of the violent things hinted, nothing scares Bel more than the idea of meeting his displeased father, to look him in the eyes a face his verbal wrath. Afterwards he would face his usual punishment, but instead of the short few hour incriments of total darkness, Bel would face almost weeks of unending paranoia and torture. The sickening groan elicting from Nico makes Bel's blood run cold. "Stop–!" He shouts, thrashing against the man's hold. "You wouldn't dare–" Bel hisses. Nico will find a way out of this. He has to–
Ronan laughed, eyes widening in surprise. "After all of this, after knowing who this man is, you still want to protect him?" He shook his head. "There's no saving him now little prince. His time has run out. The sooner you accept that the better." He stood up, looking at his men. "Where are the rest of his men?"
"Secure-"
There was a blast of fire. Apparently, the men hadn't been as secure as they had thought. Kaillas had made a makeshift bomb and thrown it into the room. It hadn't been big enough to kill anyone but enough to throw everyone back and startle them. For someone so quiet and chasing quick and silent methods, this was very different for him. They were bleeding and hurt but they still rushed in fists and baldes ready.
It was a blur of movement for Nico. Everything was hurting, he was sure a couple of ribs were broken. He felt his body being picked up off the ground. He fought until Cassian's familiar face was in view. His hands were released but his body wasn't. "Bel! We have to-"
"We got him." Cassian was carrying him out, Braxton having taken Bel's arms and guided him out. They were a rush of men, running out if the inn and to the horses. He vaguely felt someone throw him kn a horse before someone mounted behind him and then they were off.
As suddenly as the men entered, an explosive detonates in the center of the room.The man holding Bel hostage is shocked back and bel makes his break for it, snatching his bag and shirt from the floor. He's fully clothed in an instant–his priorities out of order from the anxiety of the situation at hand. He looks for Nico, but he's lost in the insanity.
And then there's hands on Bel and before he can fight back, he finds himself looking right at Braxton. While the nerves make him shakey and weak, finding at least one friend in the crowd gives him strength to keep going. Going down the stairs ahead of them are Cassian and Nico, the latter carrying their leader.
They're on their horses in minutes and Bel allows himself to break down as soon as he knows Thicket will be able to steer himself with the rest of the horses.
Only a quarter of an hour later, news of an exploding inn in a neighboring town reaches three heirs.
Cassian had taken charge now whome their leader was incapacitated. "Laurent, Kaillas, double back and keep them off of our trail. No one can follow us." The two understood what he meant and broke off from the pair, the horses circling around and going back to the town. No one would get past the two alive. "Bel, Braxton we ride hard and we don't stop. Bel, you can say whatever you need to when we get there. Until then, shut your mouth." He didn't mean to be so harsh but it needed to be said.
Nico was stuck in his head. It was the psychological damage that was affecting him more than the physical pain. He could take it, the abuse the beatings. He could handle it. But seeing Ronan had Nico freezing. He was stuck in his head. He was back in that jail cell getting tortured. He couldn't think about anything else. It had been just over a year. A year since he had gotten out. He never thought he would see him again. But there he was. He was there and he had cone for Nico. He had threatened Bel. He was terrified. He stuck in that cell listening to the screams of his men, fighting the urge to scream himself at the torture.
Bel hadn't opened his mouth to begin with, but he doesn't object, not with the situation at hand. He just nods and leans down, wrapping his arms around Thicket's neck. Cassian's haste is understandable, but it doesn't excuse Bel's hundreds of questions.
He shakes quietly, withstanding his panic attack until it finally begins to ebb away nearly an hour after they set off from the inn. The jumbled pile of words in his mind finally begin to form coherent questions and statements. Nico is the leader of the Lisais. The leader who has been planning how to overthrow his family and not hesitate to kill them in the process. A sickening part of Bel's mind wonders if this entire relationship has been nothing but a ruse–another part in Nico's grand plan. The thought is painful, Bel gripping a portion of Thicket's mane to try and shoo it away.
The man–Ronan–had come for Nico. He had come to kill him and wasn't afraid to take Bel out in the process. Nothing but collateral damage to keep Nico in line. The man had ordered Nico to be bound because… he'll rip the air from their lungs– Bel goes cold, nearly losing his balance. Nico's a mage. The men around him are likely magic-weilders as well. They're going to kill me. Bel's anxiety begins to drown him again. This was all a lie and they're going to use me and kill me.
(Aww Bel. Poor thing)
They would ride hard for a day. Twenty-four hours, maybe less depending how hard the horses coukd go. Their horses would be pushed to the breaking point, it might very well kill them. And as attached at they were to their horses, if it came down to the horse or them, they were choosing themselves. They were choosing their king over the horses, not matter what lectures he might give them for it. If the horses survived, they would be out of commission for a very long time. Something Nico would still likely reprimand them for.
The sun faded in the sky as afternoon turned into evening and eventing turned into night, and still they rode. Laurent and Kaillas would catch up with them in a day or two. Wound wise, they were the most well off. Kaillas could preform no matter the physical damage done to his body. They were the best options to go hunt down anyone chasing them. It wouldn't be likely. Ronan knew better than to try to find their home. He had failed wverytime and had resulted to other means. This, this was because someone ratted them out. And when Cassian figured it out, he was going to kill them himself.
The moon slowly faded out of view as the sun peaked and morning came. Still they rode. No matter how much their horses wanted to stop, they rode. The sun rose and rose and still they rode. Until a noise was heard. A scout had seen them, had signaled their king was home and the situation was dire. They could tell from the tops of the trees. And then their makeshift home was revealed. Rows of tents winding through the trees where there was room on the ground. Healers and nurses had already lined up, waiting to received whatever came their way. Ambrose was at the head directing people where they needed to be.
The horses came to a stop and Cassian pulled his king off the horse. Ambrose was immediately by his side. Cassian speaking to the other man. "Ronan found us. He got to Nico. It messed him up in the head. I don't know how bad."
The day changes and Bel never calms down. He manages to keep his hyperventilating down and only sniffles occasionally into Thicket's mane. He doesn't address any of the men. He doesn't even look at them. Time passes quickly with a racing heart and a cough–which only seemed to get worse the more time went on. No matter how loud his body wants to be, Bel muffles them, his throat aching by the time they finally arrive at their destination.
A sixth man, one that the others know well, runs up to Cassian, holding Nico and taking him away. Bel stays silent, sliding off of Thicket and finally allowing him to rest. Thicket collapses on the ground; Bel's eyes sting.
Staring at the hubbub around the inn, the three siblings stand. They're clad in dark cloaks pulled over their heads, simple clothes replacing their usual elaborate and expensive clothing. Miran gestures for his sisters to stay put before pushing into the crowd, finding symbols on injured soldiers that answer questions Miran didn't want answered. The Witchhunters. Miran clenches his jaw just looking at them.
Despite his horrid reputation of being a slayer of thousands, Miran only raises his sword when necessary. The blood on his hands belongs to abusers and rapists, not the ichor of innocents. The air grows cold as Miran approaches one of the soldiers. He's nursing a violently cut arm. "Evening," Miran says before crouching beside him. "Now, can you tell me what exactly you're doing here without direct orders of the King?"
The two men carried Nico away and into a tent full of their healers and nurses. The physical wounds coukd be healed easily but Nico would have to battle the ones in his head on his own. It had taken him months just to be able to sleep through the night after he had escaped. He was reliving everything all over again.
Braxton approached Bel and gently took him by the arm. "Come with me," he said gently but he really wasn't giving Bel a choice. They all told Nico he should have said something earlier but he didn't. And now it was all coming to bite them. They couldn't have helped this. None of them could have. Braxton needed medical attention. The bleeding wound on his head said as much but he needed to get this dealt with first.
He took Bel to a tent. Not just any tent, but Nico's. A guard would be posted out front at all times to make sure Bel didn't run. Braxton realized the prince as they entered inside. Then he waited. He waited for the harsh words and the yelling and hitting and kicking. He waited. Bel needed to get his anger out before Nico came to. Nico wouldn't be able to handle it but Braxton could.
The man looked up at him. Great, another prince. Ronan only smiled. "I am your king's witch hunter. I have every authority to do as I please. Your father gives me free reign. I am in my perfect rights to be here." He only cackled. The man was clearly deranged and maybe a little bit crazy. It had to explain how he could torture so easily, without even flinching.
"Don't touch me," Bel demands, jerking out of Braxton's grip. He's still breathing heavily, his hands are shaking and he can't be touched or he might just spill over the edge. "Please," he adds, just to make sure that Braxton knows that Bel isn't mad at him… not directly. He rubs at his eyes, which are bloodshot and dried of all his tears. He wants to cry some more, but he knows his body doesn't have it in him.
Despite this, he follows Braxton to the tent, the same tent he saw them take Nico into. Bel hesitates, not wanting to see Nico now, but he knows Braxton won't take disobedience. Bel knows he's a prisoner. He's a tool, an asset, a pool of information for them to use and abuse and then throw him out. Swallowing his fear, Bel steps into the tent, but pointedly keeps his eyes to the ground.
He doesn't say anything. Bel takes his seat on the grassy floor and tucks his knees up to his chest. "Thank you," he says absently because he can't find anything else to say. He clenches his hands around his legs, staring a hole into the grass.
Miran stares at the man before exhaling sharply. The Witchhunter. The slaughter. The catalyst for thousands of problems among innocent people. "Rohan? Right?" Miran couldn't care less about getting his name right. "Now, I don't usually see you this far west. You're very far from my father's jurisdiction, and I don't think the Kingdom of Piadal will appreciate your witchhunts on their land." The man wouldn't be this far out of Araniel if he wasn't chasing something. Something within Miran's gut knows that their missions are the same.
Miran's hand grows cold. The crown prince spares a look over his shoulder to ensure his sisters are preoccupied with something else. "Now, there's one thing, Rian." He brings his hand carefully up the man's sliced arm, watching as crystals of ice begin to blossom along his skin. "Your only job is to hunt witches, but you've failed to notice the one brewing beneath your nose for twenty-five years." Miran's iced hand locks around the witchhunter's neck, squeezing tightly around his throat and main arteries. "As soon as I get my crown, I'm ending this damned witchhunt, but I suppose I could always start a little early."
(ive been waiting to drop this miran lore for months alskdfj)