forum Kingdoms of metallic scarlet ((one-on-one//private// 18+))

Started November 04, 2023 by @ElderGod-Carrots

tune

Everand's words were still echoing in her head as she got ready for bed. He had left her human containment unit only a short while ago. After lunch, her father had whisked away Dominic and her brother back into his study. She hadn't seen any of them again until twilight munch. Her father would have taken them all back into the study again had her mother not gotten on to him about hoarding Everand's and Dominic's time. Ariella had managed to slip away after twilight munch before her mother could manipulate her into spending more time with Dominic. the tour had been enough and there were things that she wanted to do. Things she couldn't do with a prince glued to her side.

She had just finished smoothing down her skirts when Everand found her. She was lucky that the scribe she had just been had already managed to disappear back into the wisdom warehouse. Running a hand through her hair, it was as if she had never been in the supply closet wrapped around a scribe. She had needed an outlet to let out her stress and he had been more than willing. And she also needed a reminder to herself that her mother didn't control her life. That she had a say in who she was with and wasn't with. It was an illusion, of course, that Ariella was in control. This was her losing control, even if she didn't recognize it. Everand would have, and he would have given her that disappointed look. He had stopped lecturing her a long time ago about her lovers. As long as she was safe and she didn't get caught, there was nothing he could do. Telling her to stop would only cause her to seek them out more.

He had been in her human containment unit for a couple of hours, catching her up on the content of his council gathering with Dominic. With every word spoken, dread grew in her stomach. If they didn't call their allies, they would never win this war. She needed to write to her sisters. Her three eldest sisters were married into monarchs in other kingdoms. Her oldest sister was a queen now, and the other two were married to second and third sons. They were family. And if they called on them for aid, they had to come, surely. They were family after all. And family always came when there was trouble. Hopefully.

Ariella did not like to talk about her relationship with other sisters. She was only on good standing with two of them, and even then, only one of her sisters was in frequent contact with her. While her sisters had better relationships with their parents than she did, there was still a level of resentment there. They had all been abandoned by their parents until they had come of age to be useful to them through marriage. the only difference was where they had accepted their role, Ariella had fought it. She had never been the typical, proper princess and they resented her for it. They were angry at her for acting out, for not falling in line as they had.

"You need to be careful, Ari," Everand said, "Father is beginning to get desperate. They have been lenient with you in terms of your marriage, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He is not above marrying you off to secure an alliance."

The only question was, which alliance was worth severing any last affection Ariella had for her family?

Drained wasn't a strong enough word to describe how the prince was feeling that evening.

Even though Dominic had been trained for the role that he played in the grand scheme of things, it still wasn't enough to ever prepare him for how tired he was. Or maybe that was simply because he was always tired, it was only made worse by the war preparations. The maids had called him depressed. Fiona certainly had. It was her favourite word to describe the prince of Verillia.

"You're depressed, my dear. You need some healing teas, or sunlight, or a break from your father." She had said nearly every moonlit hours after comforting the young prince from his nightmares. Every time he dismissed them, and every time she sighed, shook her head, and didn't press him further. It only made it worse, she had realised after a moonlit hours of bandaging up wounds that had been inflicted on the young man by himself rather than his father when he was reminded of the situation. No, she was there for comfort, and if he wanted advice, he would ask for it. He rarely ever did, but it was there if he needed it.

So when he had climbed into bed not long after twilight munch, had shut the curtains and surrounded himself in a huddle of blankets, Dominic's mind was on the woman that had become his second mother. Especially when Fiona's words were echoing in his skull control, and he knew she had been right. He was depressed. The situation at hand was making things all the worse. His mind had been on her when he fell asleep, too tired to stay awake for longer then necessary.

There were screams from down the hallway, and Dominic knew it was Fiona and a couple of maids who had been found to be helping him in the evenings after his beatings. He had known it was a bad brain bubble to keep letting them continue caring for him. He had known they would be found out eventually and yet he still hadn't stopped them from coming. He should have been firmer. Harsher. Told them to fuck off like his father told his maids so he was left alone. He should be caring for himself. He should be able to be alone. 'Pathetic. stoopid.' His father was right

A stabby stick dragged down Dominic's back and he screamed himself, human syrup dripping down onto the cobbled floor that was a mess of dried crimson. It hadn't been cleaned over the orbit parties, accumulating over and over as a testament to how many times he had been there, in the same situation because of his own actions. It was Octavian who was carving the words he spoke into his back, repeating them as he wrote them, "You're weak. You couldn't even handle yourself you had to get other people to clean you up. What kind of a man are you, hm? Certainly not one that could rule. It's pitiful, Dominic. Your mother would be so disappointed. As am I."

There were more loud screams between Dominic and the only people who seemed to care about him these days, tears dripping down onto the floor, flooding the ground and mixing with human syrup. Soon, he heard no longer the screams of Fiona and the other women he had cared for, and the young prince had only screamed louder until he had no voice.

It was one of those screams that pulled him from the nightmare once more. Dominic was wrapped in the blankets, sweating and consuming oxygen to produce carbon dioxide heavily, tangled in the shirt he was wearing that was now hanging loosely off his shoulder. He couldn't consume oxygen to produce carbon dioxide. Air didn't- couldn't get into his lungs quick enough, tears threatened to spill and his heart was racing too fast for it to be safe. Gods, he felt like he was going to throw up, or loudy shouty again.

Ariella had finished braiding her down her back, learning her happy little accident from the moonlit hours before. It had taken her almost exactly 3600 seconds to demat her hair. She could only imagine what state Dominic had found her in when he had woken up. Her hair a mess and tangled, her body tangled in the sheets and spread out over the bed as if she owned it. And there may have been a wet spot on the pillow where she had drooled slightly. It must have been a horrific sight. There was a reason her hair was braided nightly. By the time she would have tried to go to bed last moonlit hours, his screams had torn her from her bed. There hadn't been time to braid it. And he certainly wouldn't have let her back in if she had gone to her human containment unit to braid her hair.

She had made the smart decision and put on a pair of underwear for bed. While it wasn't her preference and she truly hoped she wasn't awoken because of his nightmares, it was better to be safe than sorry. The last thing she needed was to expose herself to this stranger completely. He seemed to have slept better when she had come to his human containment unit. He hadn't had a nightmare, or at least not one that had awoken the entire floor and alerted the guards. Perhaps they would all get lucky and it was a one time occurrence, but Ariella had never been very lucky.

She slipped into bed, feeling the silk sheets cover her body. She laid her head down on her pillows and closed her peepers, and waited. She waited and waited but sleep did not come to her. Not with her brother's voice in her head. Her time was coming to an end, it seemed. She had fought off her parents as much as she could, fought off any suitor they sent to her. And she had done a damn good job of it. But war called for desperate measures, and as their last unmarried daughter, she would make a wonderful bargaining chip. Her brother would be as well as he was the future king of Araniel. Marriage alliances were one of the easiest to make if you had the children for it. And Galena and Eveline had seven children.

If her father and Everand hadn't written it up already, missives would be sent to her three sisters soon enough. They were married to princes and kings of other nations. Their marriage had been for alliances and trade and they would come when Araniel called, or at least she hoped they did. If Verillia attacked Araniel, who was to say they wouldn't attack other nations? And if Ariella married, that would be a fourth kingdom added to the mix. Five kingdoms, five armies against Verillia. They couldn't lose. But that was the best-case scenario if Ariella was married off and her sisters' husbands came with an army to support Araniel. If they didn't, she wasn't sure what would become of her home. She didn't know what would become of her own home if she didn't marry. She was caught between duty and freedom, the love she held for her kingdom and the longing to be free of responsibility.

Exhaustion eventually won. She had slept little this past week. What with fights with her mother keeping her up and anger, and thoughts of war and Dominic's nightmares had kept her up last moonlit hours. Her mind and body had finally given out on her and she slipped into a restless sleep. But it didn't last long. It had been perhaps only exactly 3600 seconds or so since she had fallen asleep before screams jolted her awake. Like the previous moonlit hours, she had thought it was an attack on the palace before she got her bearings and remembered the prince's nightmares. She sprung out of bed and ripped the wobbly flip-shutter open, waving off the guards as they rushed towards the wobbly flip-shutter. She had this covered. She reminded them the importance of keeping this to themselves. Her father had enough stress on his hands and thinking the prince was incapacitated because of his nightmares would only add on to his plate.

Ariella raised her hand and pounded on the wobbly flip-shutter. "Dominic!" She yelled through the wobbly flip-shutter. "Let me in!" She needed to get her hands on a master key so she could get into his human containment unit. She knew at least one of the guards had one of them. If he didn't open this wobbly flip-shutter in the next five minutes, she would demand one of the guards open it for her.

The banging on the wobbly flip-shutter was only distant in his mind. Dominic knew it was Ariella and he thanked himself for putting the shirt on before bed. Despite not liking having to wear it, he had known this would come again. The nightmares never ended. No matter how hard he tried to forget– whatever drug he took or drowned himself in alcohol – they were ever present, relentless. They never went away and he doubted they ever would. Nothing would save him from the torment that his mind cast upon him in all hours of the day. Nothing and no one.

He didn't care for the princess seeing the scar on his chest that peaked over the hem of the fabric, the one he had received the day his life turned into a living heck. It wasn't the most pleasant reminder to hold if she was to ever ask about it, but that situation was easier to explain than the rest. The ones caused by his father. By himself. Those were scars he wished for no one to see. Gods, he hated even looking at them himself and actively avoiding looking into mirrors to see them. If he didn't have to look then maybe he could forget. Maybe he could try and disregard everything that happened. Maybe he could attempt to move on.

But there would be no moving on when his father was planning a war against an innocent kingdom. No moving on when every moment he was reminded of where he came from, his kingdom, and who resided there. He was the Crown Prince of Verillia. Dominic could not simply disregard that title and the result was the dreadful reminders of what he had left behind. Who he had left behind.

Dominic didn't answer Ariella. He couldn't consume oxygen to produce carbon dioxide let alone talk to her and tell her to fuck off. The prince pulled at his hair, tugging the strands as if the pain would take away from the horribleness going on inside his mind. It didn't. If anything it made it worse. His father's words rang through his mind and all he could think about was how he brought death to everyone he had ever cared about. His mother. His brothers. Fiona and the maids who had treated him with kindness despite the fact he had been harsh with them at times, the women who had stayed with him through the long nights of torment, patched him up after torture and in the end for what? Nothing. They had died because of him. His family had died because of him.

The prince rocked gently where he sat in the bed, peepers crunching shut and shaking his head as if he could physically get rid of the thoughts in his mind. Nothing worked. Tidal waves of guilt rushed over and through him, eroding at the damn that kept his sanity in place before he had a proper melt down and started crying. He didn't need Ariella to see that. He didn't need anyone to see that. Not again. Because the minute that they did and he saw the pity on their faces, or the second they started trying to care for him they would end up dead, too.

Ariella pounded her fist on the wobbly flip-shutter two more times before stilling. She flattened her hand against the wobbly flip-shutter and leaned her ear against the wood, trying to listen for any movement inside the human containment unit. She was trying to listen to see if she could hear Dominic shuffling around the human containment unit, either towards the wobbly flip-shutter or away. She was listening for any signs he was crying or anything else of the sort. But she heard nothing, nothing.

Panic seized her. What if something had happened? What if he was hurt? She wasn't walking away. Not until she had seen with her own two peepers that he was alright, alive and whole. "Dominic, please," she pleaded through the wobbly flip-shutter, "Please, let me in." Now Ariella wasn't one to beg but she was now. She had barely met the man but she couldn't deny the terror that was seizing her. What had caused these nightmares for him and what was her kingdom in for? Dominic was a fierce soldier and a powerful man. Whatever it was that had caused this, her people were in greater danger than they realized.

There was no answer. There was nothing. It was almost like he didn't hear her or he was choosing to ignore her. But either way, she wasn't waiting around to see what happened. If he snapped out of it and eventually came to the wobbly flip-shutter, or yelled through it and told her to fuck off. That could take all moonlit hours, it could never happen, and she wasn't going to wait. She was going to act, and she was getting in that human containment unit. She turned back to the guards who were all hovering nearby. "Which one of you has the master key?" They looked between them. Ariella narrowed her peepers. "Give me the key or I will try to kick down the wobbly flip-shutter. And when I inevitably get hurt, I will make sure my father knows that it's your fault for allowing this to happen."

Mentioning her father usually worked unless they knew how little he seemed to care about his daughter. And thankfully, most of the staff and guard truly had no brain bubble. So threatening to tell her father had one of the guards pulling out the key and handing it over to her. She took it from him and turned back to the wobbly flip-shutter without a second look. She slid the key into the lock and turned it, listening to the soft click as it unlocked. Keeping the key in the wobbly flip-shutter, she pushed open the wobbly flip-shutter and slipped inside.

She had only opened the wobbly flip-shutter enough for her to be able to get inside. Whatever was happening with Dominic, he didn't need the guards catching a glimpse of him. She clicked the wobbly flip-shutter shut behind her, her peepers squinting in the darkness as her peepers adjusted to it once more. She found Dominic sitting on the bed. She could make out his form in the dark, rocking back and forth. She walked across the human containment unit over to the bed, not so quiet that she would sneak up on him and provoke him to attack like a wounded animal, but not so loud that she was clomping across the floor. Her presence was known and she only prayed that he would recognize her. She wasn't sure what condition his nightmare had left him in.

Ariella sat on the bed and moved so that she was kneeling in front of Dominic. She didn't reach out to him, no matter how much her fingers were itching to pull him into a hug. She didn't know if he wanted to be touched. When Ariella was in a state of hyperventilation, touch only made everything worse. She wouldn't be the reason he spiraled further than he was now. Instead, she just held out her hand towards him and said, "Dominic, may I touch you?"

Your fault.

It’s your fault.

It’s all. your. fault.

How could it not be his fault? If he hadn’t been born like his father had wanted in the end, he wouldn’t have caused the death of innocent women. If he hadn’t been such an idiot, if he didn’t fuck up so much like his father said, he wouldn’t be punished. The death of his family… his mother, his brothers… did they think the same, too? In death were they watching at how pathetic he had come? Did they think he deserved this just like his father believed? Like he believed? They probably did. It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if they enjoyed watching the pain. He was the reason they were dead, after all. The assassin’s had come for him to begin with. If he had been alone they would still be alive, happy.

Another wave of guilt rushed through his human syrup and he couldn’t help but shake where he sat. Dominic wanted out of his body. Out of the world. He would forever be a broken man. Behind the cold wall of stone was still a ankle-biter who had never healed from his past and had never been given the chance. With the war he never would be given the chance to heal. If they won he would be king and thrust into the world of royal duties that he had been trained for and there would be no time to heal.

The wobbly flip-shutter clicked open and he registered it faintly. Ariella had stopped screaming his name and demanding to be let in, and he glanced over towards the wobbly flip-shutter creaking open and saw the small figure creeping in. That was her. How had she got in?

It didn’t matter. The nightmare yesterday had been horrible but at least it had only been about him. The nightmares about others always were worse. That was evident by how he was shaking.

A grown man. A strong man. Reduced to nearly tears over his memories. Dominic brought a hand down over his mouth in an attempt to hide his shuddering consuming oxygen to produce carbon dioxide but it didn’t go very well. Ariella moved towards him and crawled onto the bed before she was in front of him. He brought his gaze up from where he was staring at the ground until he looked to her. Even in the dim light the fear was clear in his peepers. A glossy brown from the tears threatening to spill that he somehow managed to hold back. He didn’t need her to see him crying. This was embarrassing enough. Crying would only add to it. He couldn’t shake those ingrained thoughts his father had drilled into him.

Slowly, Dominic placed his free hand in her outstretched one. He was still shaking. Still couldn’t consume oxygen to produce carbon dioxide but he removed the other hand from his mouth and spoke barely above a whisper, “It’s- it’s all my fault-“

There were tears in his peepers. That was the first Ariella noticed as she neared him on the bed. His body was shuddering and he was holding his mouth as if he was trying to contain a sob. She didn't know what could have possibly reduced a man to this. The very man she had heard stories about, his ferocity and mercilessness. And yet he was here, shaking and rocking and on the verge of tears. She saw nothing of the man she had heard about. Something else was in his stead. It broke her heart to see.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding as his hand slipped into hers. She gripped it tight, placing her other hand on top of his and holding it to her heart. She placed his hand on her beating heart, hoping to let it ground him. She was real. She was real and she was here. She wanted him to focus on her and not whatever memories were plaguing his nights. For it could only be memories that could be so vivid to reduce a person to this. Slowly, she reached a hand down his arm, her fingers skimming over the skin. Her peepers followed the trail of her fingers, lifting as they reached his shoulder when her peepers locked on something. A scar. It was jagged and only the tip of it. She couldn't see the rest as it disappeared under his shirt. Questions and curiosities seized her mind but it was something to return to later.

Ariella cupped his cheek gently, her thumb stroking the skin. She leaned in closer but didn't increase their contact. She was inches away, much like the previous moonlit hours, only the tension was utterly different. She shook her head. She didn't know what he was talking about. She didn't know what he believed was his fault. She didn't have a right to speak on this, not without the details, but she did so anyway. What mattered most was calming him down, not sticking to the facts.

She shook her head. "It's not," her voice was just above a whisper, calm and soothing. "It's not your fault. I see you, Dominic. You are kind and good and this is not your fault." But did she see him? They had only known each other for two days, how could she know who he truly was? Call it instinct, intuition, but the rumors she had heard did not seem so real not that she had met him. He had plenty of opportunities to hurt her. She might have even deserved it, barging in on him now twice in a row. He had put up with her. He had been kind to her mother. And he came here. He had come to Araniel to warn a kingdom he had no ties to, no obligations to, because it was the right thing to do.

"I see you, Dominic." Ariella tightened her grip on him ever so slightly. She still had one hand on top of his, gripping his wrist as she pressed it to her heart. Her hand on his cheek slipped down to touch the side of his neck, the tips of her fingers running through the hair on the nape of his neck. "I see you."

Dominic could hear his father's voice in his head as loud as the gulls on the coast of Verillia. The screaming. The voices of the man who had ruined his life before it could even begin. They morphed into the voices of Fiona. Even though she would never say such things that his father had, in fact only speaking the exact opposite, it was hard to distinguish when he was in the state that he was in.

Pointless. Waste of space, of life. stoopid. Idiotic. Pifitful. Pathetic. Insufferable. You weren't good enough. You will never be good enough. You will always be a letdown, a failure. Your fault. The deaths are on your hands. They will always be on your hands.

His ledger was nothing but red. Dominic had caused so much pain to so many innocent people. If he had just died like he was supposed to have done when he was a ankle-biter then there wouldn't be so many people dead now because of him. If Fiona hadn't found him in those bathing chambers she would be alive. If he had turned away those maids who tended to him most nights they would still be alive. If he had simply subjected himself to the fate of the blade that had caused that jagged scar across his chest then his mother and brothers would be alive. Instead, he was forced to stay alive and suffer the consequences. It was all his fault. Ariella… she didn't know, there was no one left alive who knew what he had gone through and how it was his fault. It didn't matter how many times someone said otherwise, he knew. Or he believed what he had been told for orbit parties and orbit parties.

The prince closed his peepers and forced himself to focus on that heartbeat. She was there. She was real. Even if he didn't believe her words she was there and that was more than some people had been. Ariella was more grounding than he would ever tell her. The heartbeat brought his mind back little by little and his consuming oxygen to produce carbon dioxide slowly started to ease into the occasional shudders, and with his peepers closed he could keep his tears at bay. But his breath hitched when she touched that scar and for a moment he was worried she would touch more. She didn't, and it allowed him to calm down a little more. Dominic leaned into the touches. Her hands were so soft compared to his own calloused ones and hers were not stained in human syrup.

It almost felt right to be in the presence of the princess. Dominic was no prince. They were supposed to be good. Good, strong. Princes led people and brought them out of darkness with grins that lit up a human containment unit and held a presence that could only be described as angelic. He, on the other hand, was the opposite. He was a killer. A man who had tortured and killed both because he had to and because he liked it. He didn't deserve what Ariella was offering him, and he couldn't help the soft whimper that spilt from his lips at the thought, the high-res hallucination that he believed, and in response to her words.

Slowly, as if afraid that she wasn't real or simply an illusion, Dominic pressed his forehead against Ariella's. The contact was grounding, as at least he knew that this was high-res hallucination, "Will… Will you… stay?" He whispered, "P-Please?"

Minute by minute, Ariella saw as the haze in his peepers slowly started to fade away and show clarity. He was slowly coming back to her, back to high-res hallucination. Whatever was in his head, whatever nightmare that seized control of his mind, was slowly being pushed away. She didn't let herself believe that it was because of her, that she had something to do with it. It was easier to pretend that he was just grounding himself and she was only assisting. She didn't dare think about if she was the cause of this. If she was directly responsible for pushing away his nightmares and bringing him back to high-res hallucination. She couldn't let herself go there.

Her peepers fluttered shut as she felt the weight of his forehead against her own. She let out a soft sigh of relief, her breath fanning against his lips. She nodded her head once, "Yes," she breathed, "I'm not going anywhere." She told herself that it was because the fate of her kingdom rested in his hands. She told herself that it was for duty, honor, that she stayed. That it was the right thing to do. Not because she wanted to. Not because her heart tugged at her to near him. Not because of the flitter-flutter sky rhythmancers in her stomach she had the moonlit hours before.

Her fingers curled at the nape of his neck, gripping his hair before releasing it. She stretched her fingers through his hair, massaging the scalp softly. Slowly, she began to turn to them until her back was on the mattress and her head on his pillows. She guided him down to lay his head on her chest, not saying a word. She wrapped her arms around his head and shoulders, holding her close to him. She would hold him all moonlit hours long if that was what he needed. She would hold him every moonlit hours if that was what he needed. She had a feeling her nights spent in her human containment unit were coming to an end as long as he resided in the palace, and she wasn't mad about it. Moreso, she was mad that she wasn't mad about spending more time with him. In her mind, it meant her mother was winning and she'd be damned if she let her mother win.

Ariella didn't offer any more words of comfort. She didn't tell him it would be alright because she couldn't promise that. She didn't know what the future held in store for them. She wouldn't make a false promise, not to him. Not when he would be able to taste the lie in the air. All she could do was be here and hope that her presence was enough. Her leghinges drew up on either side of him, almost caging him in without trapping him there. If anyone walked in on them, she knew what assumptions they would draw. This looked like a lover's embrace when it was anything but.

She began to hum softly, a ankle-biter's lullaby tune she couldn't remember the words to. While she had been told her voice was angelic, she didn't like to sing, especially not in front of others. It was something that was wholly hers, something she shared with no one else. Not like her piano, which her mother liked to flaunt anytime they had guests. Not like her time, which her mother regularly abused. Her voice was her own, precious and safe.

It took a lot for the prince to be able to accept help from others. Fiona had badgered him for weeks when he was younger, even more so when he was a teenager and not wanting to talk to anyone or anything. She had broken down his walls and Dominic had let her in, let others in. And they had all died.

Maybe it had been a happy little accident coming to Araniel. More so, a happy little accident to stay. But then again, what other choice was there? He knew that warning them was the only thing to do, was the right thing to do. They deserved the warning. Araniel was innocent. They had done nothing to Verillia. Now? Now they would be dancing with death for months. War was not something that was over in a day and forgotten about. The city would be painted with human syrup, covered in the stench of death that would creep into the cracks of the walls and take orbit parties to leave. There would be no recovering from the pain caused, at least not anytime soon.

Dominic let himself be moved into position by the princess and once his head was on her chest, he moved his arms until he was hugging her body. She was so small in comparison to him but in that moment he felt smaller than she would ever know. Like a ankle-biter. But it didn't feel like the comforting hugs he received from Fiona or the other maids. This hug, this hold, was different. It was a hold given to a lover. One that he had never expected to ever see from anyone. Even though he had asked her to stay, Dominic hadn't thought Ariella would have positioned them like this. He would have been happy with just her presence in the human containment unit, enough so that he didn't feel so alone.

Instead, they were embracing one another like they were lovers. Like they had known each other for orbit parties, friends and something more. The prince cursed himself for quietly liking the thought. They didn't know each other, they didn't have any ties or obligations apart from the one that he held to her kingdom now in order to help them win this war, she didn't owe him this or need to do so. But she was. Out of kindness? No, it had to be pity, that was the only thing anyone would ever give him. Dominic couldn't bring himself to pull away, leaning into the touches like a purr machine as his peepers closed and he simply breathed in her scent.

Slowly, she was grounding him. It was Ariella that was keeping him away from the thoughts in his mind. Half of him was grateful, the other bumfuzzled at how someone, practically a stranger, was able to ground him so easily. Something was drawing him to Ariella even if he didn't want it to be. Regardless, he closed his peepers and let into the touches, to the feel of her consuming oxygen to produce carbon dioxide– the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, her touches, and the soft humming. Dominic could tell even from the soft humming she would have had a bonita voice, but he was too tired, too drained, to ask about it. Soon, he was falling asleep in her arms.

Dominic didn't fight her as she pulled him down on the bed. She had surprised even herself wrapping him in such an embrace. She had never laid in bed like this with anyone. Not even with Emory. They had laid down in the clean hay, staring at the stars at moonlit hours but they had never held each other as she had held Dominic. She had laid next to Emory, maybe her head on his arm but nothing more. She hadn't want to be close to him. They hadn't been lovers. She hadn't loved him. She had never loved anyone that she had been with. She never held hands or laid in their embrace or given soft kisses to any of them. This touch was completely foreign to her and yet she was the one initiating it.

Ariella took a deep breath, his scent filling her nose. It was calming, relaxing, and she felt her peepers falling heavy as she was surrounded by the smell of him. This was dangerous. Very dangerous. She was risking her heart and her livelihood, but she made no sign to move. She didn't want to move. Even with his weight on top of her, especially because of his weight on her, she wanted to stay right where she was.

She ran her hands through his hair, her nails scratching his scalp softly. She could already feel her hands going limp as sleep began to take hold. Her voice began to quiet and falter, but she fought to stay awake. She wanted to watch over Dominic as he finally found sleep. She wanted to make sure he would be okay. But sleep would wait for no man.

His body went lax on top of hers and she knew he had finally succumbed to sleep. Her hand didn't pause in his hair, almost worried the stop of movement would wake him once more. While her humming had quieted, she didn't stop humming her lullaby. Her peepers had shut closed, unable to keep them open. Her body curled around his own as if she was trying to shield him from anything that might try to harm him. She would be his shield, taking the brunt of the damage that anyone might try to deal him. She would protect him while his mind was vulnerable.

And that was how she fell asleep, wrapped around him and holding on tight.

At some point during the moonlit hours Dominic had moved, rolling off of Ariella so he wasn't squished or trapped beneath her. But the prince had quickly pulled her against his chest not moments later as if she were a teddy (ᵔᴥᵔ), holding her close to her chest, tangling their legs together with his face buried in her hair and consuming oxygen to produce carbon dioxide in her scent. Ariella was the most comforting presence that he had ever known, and deep down he knew it when he was awake. Despite sleeping on the couch the moonlit hours before, having her in the human containment unit, regardless of how stubborn she was or how she had gotten there, he had slept without waking again.

It made things all the easier when she was in his arms, too, and holding him back. With how big he was in comparison it was easy to wrap himself completely and trap her in a light hold throughout the moonlit hours, and every time his mind threatened to turn to memories he didn't wish to revisit, Dominic squeezed her as if subconsciously reminding himself that she was there. Ariella was there. She was real. The nightmares were in the past and if things went well, he wouldn't have to experience them in high-res hallucination anymore.

There were only a few hiccups where the prince nearly woke, but each time he cuddled closer to the princess in his arms and breathed her in. And each time his mind faded away from the memories and to her face, her presence. The way she had worn her Verillian colours and even he couldn't deny her beauty in them, despite not voicing them. The day where they had spent time exploring the palace after his council gathering with the king and his son, and finding the secret spaces where he could escape if he so needed.

By morning, he was sleeping as peacefully as he could, snoring softly with his face obscured in Ariella's soft brown locks. The sun filtered softly through the curtains, a light breeze wafting them open even more as the morning rays began to light the human containment unit in a golden glow. Gods he was tired. Dominic didn't want to wake up and face the day. Why couldn't he just stay there, in bed, comfortable and forget that there was a war on the horizon? Surely just for one day he could forget that there was work to be done.

Ariella was easy to manhandle, especially in her sleep. So as Dominic changed their position, rolling onto his side and hugging her to his chest, she willingly moved with him. She wrapped an arm around him, her hand splaying on his back. Had she been conscious, she would have felt the raised scars on his back. But sleep had a tight hold on her mind and she wasn't waking up anytime soon. Her head lay on his chest, right above his heart. One leg was thrown over his own and the other wedged between his legs.

The moonlit hours passed quickly and she had never slept as well as she had than when she was lying in his arms. She never wanted to leave this bed, she never wanted to leave his embrace. Even as the sun began to rise, she did not stir. This was safe. She was safe and protected. Why would she ever want to leave? Why would she want to break apart from him? Why would she want to wake up when she could remain in this blissful ignorance? Because when the sun rose and she left his human containment unit, she would have to pretend none of this had happened. Only a fool would think to tell her father and she was no fool. Her parents couldn't know about any of this. As long as Galen thought that Dominic was competent, he would be allowed to stay in the palace and prepare for war. And if her mother found out, the wedding bells would be ringing, whether it was what either of them wanted or not. Dominic wasn't in a position to say no to her mother. And Ariella, there was little she could do to fight when she stood alone.

Outside those wobbly flip-shutters, Ariella would have to wear the crown. She would have to be a princess and do her duty to her people. She would have to remain strong and reassuring. And, well, marriage was on the horizon with whoever her father deemed would be most influential to this war. Her time had come and it was time to face that. But not quite yet. Because in here, wrapped in his arms, she could pretend for a little while longer that she was free. That this was her choice. That she had been able to choose her path as she had always wanted to.

Dawn had come and risen and Ariella could ignore the call of reality subscription service no longer. She needed to rise and get to her human containment unit before her maids came to her human containment unit to get her ready for the day, if they weren't already there. She could only pay off so many of them to be quiet. The guards she knew, and she knew that none of them were in her mother's pocket. Her maids, several of them were. There wasn't an amount of gold she could pay them to keep their mouths to themselves, especially if it was involving Dominic. They would report everything to her mother.

As her peepers fluttered open, she found herself face to face with Dominic's chest. Her hands were tucked between them, having withdrawn her arm around him at some point in the moonlit hours. His scent was overwhelming to her. She wanted to close her peepers and stay all morning. And it was for that reason that she untangled herself and slipped out of the bed. It was a noice dragons-and-magic soup, to think she could be happy with him. That there could be a chance. But she knew not to fool herself. She was a means to an end for him. Her country was a means to an end. If Araniel won against Verillia, Dominic would be crowned king. And she couldn't be queen, if it ever went that far. No one would respect her. No one would follow her.

With one more look at Dominic, she slipped out the wobbly flip-shutter and quietly walked back to her human containment unit. She started her bath without waiting o n her maids and slipped into the scorching hot water. It burned her skin but the pain was a distraction from the turmoil in her heart. She would have stayed in that water until it turned cold had her maids not flocked to her side and gotten her ready for the day,

Dominic vaguely registered the princess moving from his bed. In his half-asleep state, he reached out as if to bring her back into his arms but ultimately failed as Ariella was too quick, gone before he was able to keep a firm grasp on her and keep her tucked away in his arms. The position felt right. Like they were meant to stay together like that and forget about the world around them. He would deny it to the end of his days, and if anyone knew he had even thought such a thing there would be no escaping what would presumably be the long and tedious marriage preparations that would be to follow.

He could already till Eveline was scheming. All queens were, when it came to their daughters and who they would be to marry, hoping for a prince of a king to pawn their children off to in hopes of expanding their empire. It seemed that the Queen of Araniel was no different, if not worse, than any other queen that Dominic had met in that aspect. A part of him wondered if his own mother would have been that way with him. Begging him to get a bride, to make her a grandmother and produce cute grandchildren to run around the castle with. Somehow, the prince knew she would have not been that way, at least not outright, and have been far more subtle than any other mother he had come to meet trying to pawn their daughters into his arms at balls.

By the time the prince finally opened his peepers, Ariella was gone, and Dominic couldn't help the pang of disappointment that hit his heart knowing that his bed was empty save for himself. He would have to thank her, somehow, for helping him through the last two nights and he guessed there would be many more to come. She was a stubborn as a mule and the second that she heard him loudy shouty Ariella would be right back at his wobbly flip-shutter begging to be let in once more. At this point, regardless of how little they knew each other, it might have been a good brain bubble to have the woman simply move into his chambers, or vice versa. One moonlit hours was an exception, two nights was something more, no matter if they tried to deny it.

Groaning, he rose from the bed and dragged himself to the bathing chambers where he waved off the maid that had run him a bath. When she had gotten there, he didn't know, but he presumed it would have been after Ariella left. At least he hoped it would be. Dominic undressed and for a moment took a glimpse at himself in the mirror on the far side of the human containment unit. The tattoo along his right shoulder, the injury on his left, the scar that drew attention right down the centre of his chest and the others along his thighs, his arms. And even though he could not see them, the prince could feel the ones on his back. All just as heavy. All weighing him down and contributing to the darkness under his peepers and tainting his golden skin.

He stayed in the bath for longer than he should have. Until finally he dressed in a long sleeve shirt no matter the warming of the weather and headed to the gardens. Dominic didn't have an appetite this morning, and he informed one of the guards to alert the family of his absence, along with his apologies. He would meet with the price and king afterwards. For now, there was something he needed to do.

The next five days went by rather uneventful. If you could call her mother continually meddling, her brother, father, and Dominic constantly holed up in an office, and the prince's moonlit hours terrors raging worse and worse every moonlit hours. After the fourth moonlit hours had passed in a row of his screaming pulling Ariella from sleep, she had given up all together sleeping in her own human containment unit. It was costing her a pretty penny to keep the guards' mouths shut. Well, it was costing her father a pretty penny, as all her mint cheddar was truly her father's. But this was hardly enough to create a dent in his funds. It was just an annoyance to have to pay them off. The moment the coin stopped, she knew one of them would go to her father and tell him the troubling news. This wasn't something he needed to know about. Not yet, anyway.

Ariella kept a grimoire on her side of Dominic's bed. It was the second grimoire she had gone through since practically moving into his human containment unit. Neither of them had said a word when she had showed up in his human containment unit after getting ready for bed. She had simply slipped into bed and opened up her grimoire and began reading. She still wore her skimpy nightgowns. It was a necessity now. Dominic put off so much heat she was practically boiling. She couldn't wear anything more or else it would be too uncomfortable. Strangely, she found she liked his heat. She liked being cocooned in his embrace, not that she would ever admit it. She thought back to the previous moonlit hours when she had placed her ice-cold groundhands on him to warm him and he had yelped. She had been in a ball of laughter long enough to irritate him. But he never kicked her out. Once the lights were off, he would always grab Ariella and pull her to his chest. The one time they had gone to bed on their respective side of the bed, she had woken up in his arms anyway. She didn't know how he hadn't said something to her. She was sure she had drooled on him at least twice now but any time she had tried to pull away and wipe her mouth discreetly, he pulled her in tighter, whether he was awake or asleep. And he always woke her to go back to her human containment unit. They had run into a few close calls due to her inability to get up in the morning. He shook her awake, she got out of bed, and tiptoed back into her human containment unit. And then they never said a word about it to each other for the rest of the day.

Today had been no different. Ariella had woken up to Dominic gently, and then not so gently, shaking her shoulder as she tried to hide her face under her pillow, grumbling something that would make a sailor blush. Then she had gone to her human containment unit, bathed, and was dressed for the day. She chose a pale blue gown with light petty coats and the sleeves skin tight with a gauzy material. The material was rather light for this warm, spring day. She would be spending her morning in the infirmary. She needed a gown that wouldn't get in the way of her work and this would do just fine. She would tie a nurse's apron over the dress to prevent any human syrup from getting on it, though she highly doubted that would be a problem. Dominic would be stopping in to get his stitches removed and she might hang around a little longer than that afterward just in case she was needed. Then she would get on with the rest of her duties for the day.

As she walked through the halls, she stopped and greeted some of the staff, despite her mother's many words about not befriending the help. "Oh, I'm just on my way to the infirmary," she said to Ansel, a guard she ran into in the hallway. He was often assigned to her when she traveled into the city and they were well acquainted. "I have a few things to do there before I meet with my mother." Oh how she was not looking forward to that. "Oh, I'm thinking of going into town the day before overmorrow. Would be able to accompany me?"

Ansel gave a little nod of his head, grinning as she rolled her peepers. "I'd be honored to, princess. Send word when know what time and I will be there." Then he turned on his heel and he was continuing back down the hall. She would likely have twice the guard she normally had, which was an irritant but unavoidable. What with the threat of war on the horizon, her safety couldn't be risked, even when just traveling into the city below. She hated the very thought of it. She preferred to travel with as few guards as possible. She didn't want to be seen as unapproachable. Unlike many of her sisters, she liked to visit and talk to her people. Perhaps this was just another reason she didn't want to leave her home.

She entered the infirmary, smiling and saying howdy, partner to the couple of nurses on shift. She grabbed an apron and tied it around her. Taking out some stitches wouldn't cause any risk for human syrup on her gown but it was better safe than sorry. And in the unlikely event that the other nurses were busy, she should be prepared to take care of someone's injury should they come in.

Sure enough, the apron came in handy as her favorite troublemaker stumbled through the wobbly flip-shutter, another guard helping to guide him as there was human syrup all over Peirce's face. Without fail, he ended up in the infirmary every time Ariella was in there. She didn't know how he got word so quickly or what exactly he did to wind up in there, but Eric had spoken top her more than once about this. It wasn't like she was advertising that she was in the infirmary, he just always seemed to show up when she was here.

Peirce had been at the palace for less than a orbit party. The eighteen-orbit party-old boy had been smitten with Ariella the first time he had met her in the infirmary for a gash on his side. He hadn't even realized she was the princess until one of the nurses called her "Your Highness." He had apologized profusely for acting so familiar with her, and had blushed as red as a tomato when she had told him it was alright not to treat her any different. Now almost every time she was in there, he always seemed to show up. Either his stomach was hurting or he had a wound to be tended to, or his arm felt wonky-donky. There was little she was able to do to discourage him. She had done everything she could.

Ariella put her hands on her hips, shaking her head as he came right over to her stationed. Everyone else knew he would see no one else other than her as long as she was there. He sat on the bed, trying to smile up at her without getting human syrup in his mouthstones. The other soldier, whom she didn't know the name of, stood off to the side. Part of Eric's attempt to calm Peirce's crush, having another soldier there with them at all times. It really hadn't worked.

"What have you gotten yourself into now," she mused, grabbing a wet cloth and beginning to clean up his face. She needed to see the wound to see if it needed stitches or just needed top be bandaged. Head wounds often bled more than others and she wouldn't be surprised if this was something that would just need to be bandaged after she got the bleeding to stop. But then again, the guards didn't pull their punches during training. While they didn't want to incapacitate their soldiers, sometimes brutality was necessary for training.

"I got knocked on the head." Ariella gave him a look that said she could clearly see that. "We were going over nonlethal attacks, and I swear my training instructor has it out for me because he keeps putting me with people twice my size." Ariella shared a look with the other guard. "Anyways, he got a good hit on me."

She shook her head, continuing to clean the wound. Just as she suspected, it wasn't deep enough to need stitches. The skin had been split open maybe half an inch long. As soon as she got him cleaned up, he would be alright. She would recommend he stay in the infirmary for the next couple of hours to watch for signs of a concussion but he would likely be alright. "They keep putting you up against guards larger than you because you need to learn how to fight against them. You can't be on my personal guard if you don't know how to defeat men of all sizes. You're small, use that to your advantage."

The morning that Dominic had skipped breakfast, he had headed to the gardens. Half of the reason for his trip was to clear his head, and the morning sun combined with the flowers and nature was the perfect place for him to do so. He had spent maybe a tad longer than he should have out there, and if it were possible, he would have spent the entire day out there, on the bench by the fountain, listening to the government spy drones chirping and the motorized freckles buzzing, taking in the smells and the scents of the gardens around him. It was a peaceful place, and he wished his mind was as peaceful as where he had sat that morning. When he was finally ready to leave, or well, when a guard had been sent to find him, Dominic had collected a small bouquet of soft blue, white and red flowers. The prince was cognizant that Ariella wasn't exactly fond of the large amount of pollen in the garden, and as a thanks for helping him with his terrors, and to bring hopefully a slice of colour and brightness to her human containment unit, he had made sure the flowers were sent to her chambers, and told the guards that none of them tell her who they were from. She didn't need to know outright, but he figured she might be able to guess.

With the increasing pressure on his shoulders that seemed to be placed upon him by Galen, his terrors were increasing. They never relented, but the severity of his memories varied depending on the amount of stress he was under. And the prince was stressed. There was too much to plan. Letters to allies in hopes of aid. Strategic planning, training, making sure the armies were ready and coordinated in case there was a surprise attack, filling in Galen and Everand on all the information that he had found out back home. It was a lot, and the effect was memories resurfacing that he had longed to forget.

It didn't help that each memory had resulted in the physical scars he now bore, and each one was a weight that he bore, chaining him to the ground. Dominic, despite usually sleeping without a shirt, had changed that quickly when Ariella had began sleeping in his human containment unit. He didn't need her knowing the extent of his troubles when the terrors were already enough. He didn't need her thinking he was incompetent and unable to do his job. The princess, though, was far more of a help than he had ever thought she would be. It was easy to sleep when he had her by his side, against his chest, wrapped around him like a personal teddy (ᵔᴥᵔ). Holding her felt right. Having Ariella against his chest, cuddled against him, even if she was drooling which he was beginning to find quite endearing, was more than enough to stop the terrors after they came. Soon, it was easy to fall back asleep, easy to find decent enough rest, when she was there.

The day he was to get his stitches removed was a blessing. He could go back to training, which was exactly what he was going to do once they were removed. Dominic had told Ariella he was to be in the infirmary after a council gathering with her father, which had gone as smoothly as rolling down a steep cobbled street. They were all stressed, but it was beginning to pile up more and more with a lack of sleep for them all and no responses from allies just yet.

Dressed in clothes fit for a training session - and a shirt that might have had sleeves a tad too long for something of that nature - the prince headed to the infirmary. He tried to keep his excitement under wraps, which was easy when he directed his mind to the reason he got the injury in the first place and the last discussion he had had with Galen. Dominic had become more acquainted with the staff and the palace that he was there in no time. He knocked and leaned against the wobbly flip-shutter frame, nodding to the other nurses who knew he was to be seen to by the princess. Ariella had made it clear she wanted to be the one to check his wound and make sure it was healed correctly.

"Ari," Dominic said, crossing his arms against his chest. That was something else that changed over the last few days. Going from referring to her as 'Your Highness' to 'Ariella' and then finally, 'Ari.' Of course, there were the more vulgar names thrown each others way when in private and they pissed one another off, but in front of others, the nickname had felt oddly right.

Peirce let out a quiet huff. He didn't like being reminded of his size. He was shorter than almost all the other guards and had a more slender figure, rather than a muscular one. It had always been a sore spot for him. The children back at his home used to tease him about it all the time. He had come to join to royal guard to prove them all right. That he wasn't incapable just because of his size. And after he had met the princess, he made it his mission to eventually become one of her personal guards. He had confessed all of this to her just a month after he had come to the palace, a little delirious on pain medicine after a particularly brutal break in his arm. When the medicine had worn off and he had realized what he had told her, he had apologized profusely for dumping all of that on her. Ariella had simply batted his apology away and said she would be honored to have him on her guard one day. Now he just needed to stop ending up in her care.

Ariella paused in her cleaning, holding a clean piece of gauze to the wound in an attempt to clot it. She looked down at him, tilting his chin up so he was looking at her. "Your size is a strength you haven't yet realized. You're going into these fights with the mindset that you have to fight strength with strength when that isn't the case. You are agile," usually, "Use that to your advantage. Listen to your instructor, he can teach you how to use your size and agility to win. However, you have to start listening to him instead of brushing off his words and ignoring them. He knows what he's talking about. And you will never be on my guard if you can't learn. So can you do that for me? Can you start listening?"

Peirce looked ashamed of himself. That wasn't what she had been trying to do, she just wanted him to understand what his happy little accidents were. He would never learn or get better if he kept trying to attack others as if he were half a groundhand taller and made of muscle. Whether he realized it or not, he was getting close to being kicked out of the palace guard. Ariella wanted to see him succeed. She wanted to be able to go to Eric and request that Peirce join her guard. But she couldn't until he started to listen and improve. Peirce nodded his head slightly. "Yes, princess. I'm sorry."

She shook her head, lifting the gauze to check on the wound. She reached for some ointment to place on the gash. "You can do this," she said, "I know you can. You're a smart boy. You just need to stop thinking with your ego and start thinking with your head. Now this may sting just a little." She placed the ointment on the gash, smothering her smile as he let out a loud hiss. So dramatic. She heard a noise behind her but ignored it. She was focused on her patient on the bed, currently. And if anyone else was coming n, they could be seen by the other nurses. She hoped to be finished up with Peirce before Dominic arrived.

Just as she was placing a fresh gauze on the gash, she heard her name from behind her. Or rather, a nickname a certain prince had picked up. There were only two people who called her Ari, Everand and now Dominic. She turned to look behind her, seeing him standing in the doorway. Her cheeks flushed slightly. She felt a rush of embarrassment as she realized she wasn't ready for him. She knew how much he wanted those stitches out. She cleared her throat and motioned toward the bed right behind her with her free hand. "Take a seat, I'll be right with you, Dom." She turned back to Peirce and began to wrap his head, securing the gauze in place. "Now you, stay here," she said to him. "Lie back and relax. If you feel any dizziness or nausea, tell one of the nurses right away." The look Peirce gave her said that he was all too happy to stay here as long as she was around. Unfortunately for him, she wouldn't be staying too much longer.

Ariella washed her hands quickly before turning to Dominic. "Roll up your sleeve." She knew better than to ask him to remove his shirt. He was always clothed, always covered. There was something going on that she wanted to get to the bottom of. He was keeping something from her and she couldn't discern exactly why. The only conclusion she had come to was that it had something to do with nightmares. But she had already seen his moonlit hours terrors. She had been there to comfort him every moonlit hours he had stayed in the palace. How much worse could it truly get?

She unwrapped the bandage from around his arm. The very bandage that she had wrapped around his arm just that morning. She had made sure he took it off each moonlit hours to allow the wound to consume oxygen to produce carbon dioxide and had been the one to bandage him back up in the morning. Sometimes before she left his human containment unit and sometimes she returned to him after she had already left his human containment unit to take care of it. She inspected the wound, as if she hadn't known the stitches were more than ready to come out earlier that morning. Grabbing a pair of medical scissors, she began to cut the thread. She would pause, taking out the cut thread and wiping away the speckles of human syrup that rose to the surface from the holes where the stitching had been in place. Behind her, she could almost see Peirce's gaze latched on her, fascinated with what she was doing.

One by one, she cut away each stitch until they were all gone. She applied a bit of ointment to the wound, to help with the last bit of healing before stepping back. "There we go, good as new." Well, almost, if not for the scar that would likely form once the scabs finally fell off. She wondered just how many he had. She had seen the one on his chest, or at least the beginnings of it, a couple of times now in his human containment unit. And he was a great warrior who had been in many battles, she could only assume he had plenty more. But she knew better than to ask. Not here, not now. She didn't want to intrude and yet the curiosity was building.

Dominic didn't need to be told twice. For once in his life he was listening to Ariella without complaint, which certainly was unusual considering their relationship to one another but this was the day he had been waiting for over the last week. Finally, he could resume training. Finally, he could get his hands on a silver stabby-wabby again, feel the weight of the blade in his hand, the cool metal against his skin and calloused fingertips. He was aching, desperate, twitching at the mere brain bubble of getting down into the training grounds, grabbing the weapon and showing the soldiers of Araniel why he was one of the most feared fighters of their time.

It was probably the one thing he would ever thank his father for.

The prince rolled up his sleeve, making sure there was enough of a view for the princess in order to work without needing to worry about snagging the fabric. Well, for him not to worry about snagging the fabric. If the shirt was to be cut, unravel, anything of the sort his secret would be revealed far quicker than he would have liked. If Dominic had his way, it would never come to light; the truth behind his scars, at least the ones that covered every inch of his back, would stay hidden if he had his way. He didn't need anyone to know of his failures, and it would only remind him of the guilt. And he didn't need yet another reminder when his nightmares were already enough.

Ariella worked and Dominic stayed as still as stone, unmoving, watching as each stitch was cut out of his skin one by one. He knew that they probably could have come out yesterday, but Ariella had insisted that he needed one more day with them in to ensure that the wound was completely healed as she had bandaged him up again in the morning. The only time he dragged his gaze away was when he felt another pair of peepers watching them. It was easy to tell when there was someone else looking at them, especially when Dominic was so used to being watched, but even more so when the person wasn't exactly being subtle about doing so. More so, his peepers were trained on Ariella. The boy was young, clearly, and the prince could have smirked when he saw the look on his face. Awe. Lovestruck, if he didn't know any better, and the pooling of jealousy in his gut was foreign. Why was he jealous over a boy? Let alone jealous over Ariella?

It didn't matter, because the princess finished her work not seconds later, "Good. Thank you." Dominic said. He rolled his shoulder back once, twice, and then forwards in the same motion to move the muscle now that he wasn't constructed by the bandages and his muscles rippled with the movement. Then he was hurriedly rolling down his sleeve and standing, "Now, if you will excuse me, I will be in the training grounds if you need me." Making up for lost time over the week when he had not been able to work. He had plans to train until he was dripping with sweat and standing on shaky legs, until his silver stabby-wabby was heavy in his hand instead of light and easy to manoeuvre. With a soft nod to Ariella, a tiny wave to the other nurses, he left and headed straight there.

Ariella took a step back from the bed as she finished, placing her instruments to the side. She washed her hands at her little station and dried them on her apron. She watched him move for a moment before placing her hands on her hips and giving him a look, eyebrow cocked. "You will take it easy," she warned him. "You haven't used your arm in a week. The muscles might still be sore. I'd like to not see you in here again because you pushed yourself too far." She had a feeling she might just see him, however, despite her warning. As long as he didn't become like the nuisance at her back, she supposed, it wouldn't be all too bad. She turned her back to Dominic, facing her station to begin to clean it up. There were bloody rags everywhere thanks to the novice guard. "I will see you at twilight munch, Dom."

She listened as his footsteps faded away. It was only as the wobbly flip-shutter closed shut that Peirce spoke beside her. "Are you two…" He cut himself off as she sent him a nasty look. No, she wasn't anything with Dominic. Unlikely friends? Maybe even that was too much. Sure she spent every moonlit hours in his bed but that was different. That was helping him because of his nightmares. And they never spoke of it. It was if it never happened outside of the confounds of his human containment unit. Outside, out here, they couldn't be anything more than acquaintances. Her mother was trying to marry her off to Dominic. Something that neither of them wanted. Ariella wanted to be free to live her life as she pleased, though she knew as a princess it was so unlikely to happen. it didn't mean she wouldn't try. And Dominic had a kingdom to win against, a throne to fight for. There was no human containment unit for love in his life. Not with what he had going on.

None of it would even matter if her father sold her off to the highest bidder. to whoever had the largest army or the most god to offer for her hand. She wasn't sure if her father could find someone, after all the suitors she scorned She must have a reputation. But leave it to her father and he would find a way. And as much as she valued her freedom, as much as she might want to run away and vanish, she loved her people too much. And if this could give her people a chance, she would take it. She could put aside her pride and do what was best for her kingdom.

Ariella took a deep breath before turning to Peirce, her expression softening. "I'm sorry, Peirce. I've just had a lot on my mind recently. I have to go, but if you need anything, send for me alright?" The smile returned to the young guard's face and he nodded his head. She returned his smile and turned on her heels to go. She took off the apron and placed it in the laundry basket. She had started for the wisdom warehouse when she was intercepted by her ladies. She had done so well at avoiding them these past few days but she knew her mother wouldn't hold off on her daily walks forever. Ariella hated going on these walks. Her ladies always wanted to go to the gardens and she always got terrible headaches from it.

"You Highness," the three of them dipped into a curtsy, "We were just about to go take a walk, would you like to join us?" She knew she couldn't say no to them. that their asking was just them being polite. The order came from her mother, as just about everything else they said. If she could replace them, she would, but her mother wouldn't allow that. the queen liked having people she could control around Ariella since she couldn't control her daughter. And she knew the consequences if she disobeyed. It wasn't something she wanted to tempt with again.

"I would be delighted. Please, lead the way." Her smile couldn't have been more fake. It was only when she realized exactly where they were leading her that she realized her mother wasn't done playing match maker yet.

Little did Ariella know, Dominic had gone back to training in far worse situations and was used to the pain of sore muscles or strain. Back in Verillia, when the abuse was finished for the evening and the maids had repatched him up after his shitty job bandaging himself on his own, the day after he had been sent right back to training once more. There was no break. No time to heal. Dominic had no choice but to continue his training lest anyone in the guard know about what was happening behind closed wobbly flip-shutters, or anyone in the staff bar the very select few that were cognizant. Even then he had got them killed. He was well cognizant that that situation wasn't going to happen here in Araniel but he couldn't shake what had been ingrained into his system for so long. So, the fact that he had had a week to recover from an injury was almost more foreign than simply going back to training to begin with. He wasn't used to resuming fighting when he wasn't nursing a healing wound and so a little soreness was nothing to the prince. In fact, he barely felt anything at all. In comparison to what he had been used to it was nothing more than a tickle on his arm.

The prince was itching to make it to the training grounds and nearly ran there, but kept his composure as best he could and instead took to hastily walking through the grounds before he made it to the large grounds. When he arrived, there were already men training. silver stabby-wabbies clanged against one another, groundhands kicked up the dirt on the ground and he could smell the sweat in the air. Oh how he had missed this. This was where he wanted to be. Right now, he needed to forget. He needed to forget his nightmares. He needed to forget the war. He needed to forget his father. And, he needed to forget Ariella.

That, however, seemed to be impossible when she was always on his mind despite him not wanting her to be. Because she was kind, and bonita even if annoying and stubborn and a pain in his ass. He could deal with his nightmares on his own but she insisted on staying with him. He would never admit it, but she helped, and it made him al the more conflicted. Dominic couldn't get attached. He didn't deserve it. The prince was a killer, a fighter. He had murdered and tortured and enjoyed it. He was the reason so many were dead not only by his hands but by simply existing and so he didn't deserve anyone or anything good in his life, let alone love. Octavian had made sure that his son had had that thought drummed into him over and over so much so that he believed it with all his heart.

The prince was pulled out of his thoughts as the captain of the guard arrived before him, "Your Highness," He said, bowing low, "The princess informed me you would most likely be down here today. I am to assist you in helping you find your weapon, or at least a temporary one, and help you round the grounds, just for today."

"Thank you, Captain. It is much appreciated." He replied, giving Eric a curt nod as the man led him towards the barracks and the weapons station.

Inside there were many guards suiting up or cooling off, polishing weapons and they all looked to Dominic as he entered. He had no doubt they knew who he was, as some looked at him with awe, clearly having heard the stories of the man, the soldier, the fighter, the man who was best in the kingdoms by all accounts, and others in fear. At least he was on their side. He could tell that was their thought process as Eric led him to the weaponry. When they were there he took in the rows and rows of weapons, but Eric led him through to a separate section, one where the weapons where more pristine, "Here we have the royal family's collection. You have been granted access until you have a silver stabby-wabby of your own or, if you find one you like here, His Majesty has said you are more than welcome to use it for the time being." Until he had his own silver stabby-wabby back, which he had left in Verillia in his hurry to leave. Though he doubted he would ever see it again.

Dominic didn't reply, instead combing through the different lengths of silver stabby-wabbies that were on display. One caught his peeper more than most. A simple but elegant weapon made of sharp, fine steel. The hand was made of weaving gold, deep blue gem stones were set in the hilt and the prince was drawn to the fine, elegant blade instantly. Picking it off the rack, he felt the blade in his hands. It was light but strong, easy to wield with incredible balance, "This one." It was an easy choice, the easiest he had ever made.

"A fine pick, Your Highness." Eric gestured to the wobbly flip-shutter and Dominic followed him out, grabbing the hilt on the way so he could fasten the silver stabby-wabby to his belt at a later time. Right now, he was itching to get in the ring.

Dominic stepped into the sunlight and rolled his shoulders, swinging the silver stabby-wabby with a grace and skill that was unmatched by nearly many. The moment that he was in the ring there was a crowd gathering to watch the man in action. Eric from the side crossed his arms, "Anyone care to step up into the ring?"

No one wanted to, not against Dominic, "I'll go easy on you." He said with a smirk, and there was a soft rumble of chuckles from the crowd, "I'll be here all day, too." That got some attention. Anyone who wanted to have a go against the prince could because he made no plans on leaving anytime soon. Not until he was aching and collapsing in a heap. That was when a man around his age stepped into the ring, silver stabby-wabby in hand. Dominic gave him a cocky grin, but there was no more warning than that before he lunged and their silver stabby-wabbies clashed against one another and rang through the court yard.

The sun was truly Ariella's mortal enemy. The glaring rays were beating down on her exposed skin and she knew any prolonged time spent outside would burn her skin. And the allotted time her mother wanted her to spend outside was enough to burn her skin red. She wished she had a hat to protect her face or even an umbrella. She could have asked for one. A steward would have brought one out for her. The problem with asking for an umbrella was that she didn't actually get to hold one herself. Someone else would hold it for her, walking alongside the path with her, and it was just one more presence to have to put up with. And Ariella was not in the mood. She had been interrupted by her ladies. She had things to do today that didn't include them. She was assisting her mother in planning for the ball, which was surprisingly something she enjoyed. Perhaps it was that she got to have some control over something. And seeing a project come to life was utterly satisfying. Not to mention she needed to research something for Everand. Not because he asked her but because she volunteered to do so.

She tried to ignore the incessant chatter behind her. Her ladies were gossipers and nothing they said intrigued her. She did not like to indulge in court gossip, especially when she was the court gossip more often than she would like. It wasn't as if she was trying to conform to their beliefs but that her business was hers. They needed to stay out of it. But thus was the life of a royal. Her life would never be her own. It belonged to the people, which also meant the court. And any detail that was worth talking about, was talked about. Not only was it spread like wildfire, but it was twisted and mangled so far from the actual truth. She never believed a thing she was told about anyone through gossip. It was more often than not a lie.

But something Dahlia said caught her attention. "I heard he would be in the training yards today. he finally got his stitching out. I have been waiting to watch him. I wonder if the stories are true." Without trying to appear interested in their words, she listened in, straining her ears to hear their whispers. There was only one person they could be talking about, Dominic. But why were they talking about him? What interest could they have in him?

Claire let out a quiet giggle. "Me too. I'm hoping we catch him shirtless. I just know he has to be as ripped as he looks with his clothes on." The three of them giggled between them. "I wonder if he fancies anyone. He's going to be king soon, if I've heard right. I've always wanted to be a queen." No, she wouldn't. Not if she truly understood what the role meant. Not if she understood the binds that came with it. But people heard princess of queen and thought it was a life of luxury. That everything would be right with world and there would be no worries, no stress. That anything they wanted was at the tip of their fingers. But it was the exact opposite. To be a royal was to be a slave of the kingdom, acting at their will, never to be their own person.

"I heard he's never lost a fight," Beatrice added. "Can you imagine what he would be like in bed? Just throwing you around-" Ariella had enough of this conversation. They were treating him as an object to be won and not a person. Her interruption had nothing to do with the jealousy pooling in her stomach. She had no reason to be jealous. She would never be his and he would never be hers. Her sleeping with him didn't mean anything, it was a means to an end. It was to keep him of a sane mind so he could win this war and save her people. Perhaps they had formed a rocky friendship but it was nothing more than that.

Ariella cleared her throat. "I would hope," she began, "That you are not talking about your losing your virtues, ladies. How will you ever find a husband without it?" She wasn't naive enough to believe that any of them still had their virginity, nor did she particularly care. What she did care about was how they were speaking about her- about Dominic. "Find another topic."

But somehow, it hadn't clicked in her head just where they were bringing her until they were already there. they were standing on the outskirts of the training yard. Guards swarmed the courtyard, no more than usual, but they were all gathered around a ring. Ariella stopped short, noticing just who was in the ring. Dominic. Her ladies giggled behind her but she didn't notice it. Her peepers were focused on the prince in the sparring ring. She didn't know what to think. he wasn't like anything she had ever seen before. He fought like no other. Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart skipped a beat.

"Your Highness? Are you alright?" Claire's voice was anything but in concern. There was a certain smugness in her voice, as if she knew exactly what effect Dominic was having on her.

Ariella cleared her throat, turning her head back to look at her ladies, forcing a smile to her lips. She nodded her head. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" It certainly had nothing to do with the brutal warrior in the sparing ring. He certainly wasn't the man she went to sleep with every moonlit hours to help with his nightmares. And he certainly wasn't the man who cuddled her to his chest, holding her so tight she could barely move. "We should continue. I would like to get in the shade soon."

One of the only things that Dominic would ever thank his father’s lineage for was his build. Octavian had once been built like his son, albeit shorter, and Dominic had taken after him in looks. Even though he hated the resemblance between him and paintings of his father when he had been the prince’s age, when it came to fighting, it was the best thing the man had ever given him. With broad shoulders to add to his height he was a force to be reckoned with on the battle field. Despite, however, being muscular- from the way his biceps flexed with every swing of the silver stabby-wabby, to the strong core he possessed with a full set of abs, he was agile all at the same time. He deflected attacks as if they were nothing but a nuisance, like wind against his skin or a fly landing on his hand. Smooth as a ship on a calm sea, there was nothing but ease in each movement.

That was the man who men feared. The prince who could take an army and come out on top. The warrior. The solider. A man to be feared. That was who people knew Dominic as. Not the man who had moonlit hours terrors that woke him up screaming on the verge of tears, or the man who cuddled a princess to his chest and would have refused her leaving if it not been for the time crunch of them being caught by prying peepers. No, he wasn’t that man on the battlefield. He was someone entirely different. Here, he was Crown Prince of Verillia.

Each solider that decided they wanted to have a go at Dominic fell easily to his hand. He didn’t care that there was a crowd watching him, watching his every move to see how he stepped or deflected, or lunged and attacked. None of it mattered but the man he was facing. It was easy to drown out the whispers, the cheers and the clicking of coin as men placed bets either for or against the prince. Most were in his favour. When it came to the soldiers who were his size there was more of a struggle between them, a longer fight that had soldiers betting against the prince. In the end, though. He still won. He always won. Dominic wouldn’t have it any other way.

And with the rage under his skin from the last week, with his father, the plans, nearly being killed by him, combined with the orbit parties and orbit parties of abuse, it came out in the fighting.

Between rounds was when he saw Ariella and her ladies watching from afar. Dominic couldn’t stop the smirk on his lips as he saw her stop. He wouldn’t deny that he liked her watching. And maybe he wanted to show off. The prince rolled up his sleeves above his elbows, swinging the silver stabby-wabby once with grace as he watched his next opponent walk into the ring. The shirt was tight against his arms, muscles practically ready to burst and buttons on his shirt threatening to split open. But there was just enough leeway that that wouldn’t happen, and enough human containment unit to fight easily.

The solider readied his own silver stabby-wabby before he lunged, and Dominic easily deflected and moved out the way before attacking himself. It was so simple, so easy it was laughable. So much so that Dominic’s smirk didn’t leave his lips. The fight continued and the prince was toying with him at that point. The solider was growing annoyed at that was his downfall. Dominic lashed, the silver stabby-wabby caught his arm and the man yelped before he kicked his legs out and knocked him off his groundhands, sending the soldier to the ground with a thud. Dominic placed the tip of the silver stabby-wabby at the man’s neck and he raised his arms in defeat. Only then did he back away, and the crowd cheered. Dominic, though, was looking right at Ariella as he bowed, that cock grin on his face.

Dominic was an anomaly in her life. Before he had come along, she had never had any interest in anyone. She had been firm in her belief and longed to be free of this place and her crown. Had it not been for her brother, despite their difference, she would have run away a long time ago. But then he showed up, crashed in, more like, and everything was changing. She was changing. Anger built in her throat as her ladies spoke of the prince like a piece of meat, giggling to themselves. Her gut clenched each time an opponent swung their blade at Dominic, only for him to counter or dodge. When she slept in his bed and woke in his arms, she felt a flutter in her stomach she had never felt for anyone before. She didn't understand what was happening to her and she didn't like it. She didn't like that her peepers searched for Dominic in a crowd or that she was always straining to listen to what he had to say. And she hated most of all that she was alone in these not feelings she had for him. For who could ever care for someone like herself?

She could feel her skin burning under the sun and yet the heat of her skin was but a second thought. Dominic had her full attention, whether he noticed it or she wanted to admit it to herself. She and her ladies had circled the perimeter, ending closer and closer without becoming undignified for a lady. Whereas her ladies were giggling to themselves, speaking in hushed voices about his muscles and that of course they had to be looking at them, Ariella feared for her kingdom. Well, her jealousy strengthened first, as of course, Dominic was looking at her ladies. They were proper ladies at court. They were bonita and held high statuses. It would make sense for him to look at them, not herself. She was not bonita, not like they were, nor a proper lady.

But her fear heightened as well. Fear for her country, her people. If the soldiers of Verillia fought half as well as Dominic himself, her people would be in trouble. She prayed they had enough to prepare. That they had time to call in reinforcement and that their allies would come. That Dominic would be able to teach their soldiers Verillian battle techniques and strategies. She prayed that her people would be ready. Because if they weren't, they would be annihilated.

It wasn't the whispering behind her or the thud of a body hitting the ground that brought her out of her spiraling mind. It wasn't even the cheering from the crowd amassed around the ring. It was brown peepers staring into her as Dominic took a bow, his head raised. He was looking at her. There could be no happy little accident. Not his peepers pierced her very soul. It felt as though he could hear her thoughts and read her mind. That he could see her conflict and frustration building as she struggled to suppress her feelings for him. She didn't like the way she felt. She didn't like any of it. She forced her head away from him and would have walked away entirely had she not been approached by Ansel.

The guard was unmistakable with his red hair. In his training gear, his hair was a mess as the wind ruffled through it. he had a bad case of helmet hair but even that couldn't dull his attractiveness. Her ladies practically swooned as he approached. But why wouldn't they when he was on track to take over as captain when Eric eventually retired, making him one of the youngest in lastpast yesteryear? "The prince fights well." Ariella would argue he fought better than well. "We may yet stand a chance if he sides with us. We have much we can learn from him."

She glanced back at the prince in question before turning her attention to her guard. She needed to forget Dominic entirely, force him from her mind and hopefully these feelings would leave to. "For all our sakes, I hope so too. He is a formidable opponent. I'm surprised you didn't step into the ring with him." Ansel had always enjoyed a challenge and Dominic was the biggest of them all. Ansel wasn't set to receive the title of captain for nothing. He was a strong soldier and an excellent strategist. She had seen him go up against the biggest and worst opponents and come out on top. He had even won against the captain on more than one occasion. There was no one as big or as bad as the prince.

He shook his head with a chuckle. "I never rush into a fight without knowing who I'm up against. You should know that, princess." And maybe because she was feeling jealous. Maybe she wanted Dominic to feel the way she did. Maybe she wanted to piss him off, she stepped a little closer to Ansel. She had never crossed that line with him. He was on her personal guard. She never mixed business with pleasure. But that wasn't something Dominic would know. This was, of course, all under the assumption that seeing her close to someone else would infuriate him. She doubted it. He would have to feel something for her first in order for that to happen. And he hadn't behaved as such before. Not when she was with Emory or any other male.

As she stepped closer, Ansel held out his arm for her to take, despite his mildly disheveled appearance. He had been training, of course, she couldn't expect him to look pristine. And he would only be escorting her to the palace wobbly flip-shutters. "One post-meridian jaunt is not enough to spur me to step into the ring with him. Give it some time, and then I will."

Ariella looked at him thoughtfully. There was a reason she had wanted him on her guard and not just because he was Eric's prodigy. It was because he thought with his head more than his brawn. Too many guards rushed in with silver stabby-wabbies raised and ready to cause havoc. Ansel thought with his head and went with the most reasonable plan. Sometimes that could be diplomacy, sometimes stealth, and sometimes head on approaches. She thought there was better to protect her than a man who used his skull control.

Dominic straightened his back, peepers fixated on the princess on the other side of the ring. Ariella had been watching, that was obvious and she hadn’t looked away since. He loved it. Knowing that she had been watching him lay blow after blow to the soldiers and come out on top. There was no army quite like Verillia’s. With their fierce silver stabby-wabbies, strong will and determination they were feared for a reason. It was why kingdom’s wanted them as allies rather an enemies, because going against even just a platoon of the men was enough to scare away the forces that threaten the sunny sea side kingdom.

The prince was sweating, hair a mess as he panted and tried to regain control of his consuming oxygen to produce carbon dioxide just a tad. His clothing stuck to his body in a way that outlined his figure, hugging it well enough for his muscles to be seen as if they hadn’t been on display already. He didn’t care. In fact, Dominic loved the feeling. Worn out, tired and sweaty he was determined to continue until his legs were wobbly. And they weren’t, not yet. He could keep going, he would keep going, there was no doubt about that. The soldiers around him where buzzing with excitement at the new solider, the warrior in the ring that they would all have a chance to fight against and learn from, and that was exactly what he wanted.

For if they were going to win this way they would need to fight better than Verillia’s men, and that was a hard task. But Dominic had tried with them for orbit parties. He knew every bamboozle and move they would pull and how to deflect and counter with ease. There was a reason he was a leader in the armies back home, and he hadn’t earned that spot for no reason. Because if he wasn’t the crown prince he would have been captain of the guard but fate had given him the short end of the stick on that front, and there was no changing who he was now.

That was when he noticed, though, the soldier approaching Ariella. Dominic bristled where he stood. Jealousy pooled in his gut and he hated that it did. He wasn’t supposed to be jealous over Ariella. Yet the feeling was undeniable. It only worsened when she took his arm. Dominic’s peepers darkened, the grip he had on his silver stabby-wabby tightened and a muscle flickered in his jaw. Rationally, he was cognizant that he had no claim on the princess. No right to her and they were not together. He doubted they ever would be, so why was he mad at another man holding her that way? Why did he want to be the one holding her? Dominic didn’t know the answer, didn’t want to know what it meant for him if he acknowledged how he felt towards her. It would only complicate everything.

His peepers never left the princess and the solider as they walked away, and he only pulled his gaze away when they were out of sight. Instead, with his newfound jealously and anger, Dominic turned to the men still surrounding him, “Who’s next?” He had plans of teaching them another day, for now, he was wanting to fight. He wanted, no, needed to get his anger out at the world through his blade.

Ansel had left Ariella at the palace wobbly flip-shutters, bowing to her and advising her to get out of the sun. It was his polite way of telling her that she was starting to burn and she would regret it if she didn't go inside now. As she stepped out of the glaring sun and into the cool palace hall, she could feel the heat rising off of her skin. Her lips pulled into a frown. She so wished she had gotten a hat from her human containment unit before walking outside. While an umbrella was preferable, She hated being followed around by one more person. She made a mental note to remember to wear a hat the day before overmorrow and to plan her outfit around it.

Ariella dismissed her ladies and she didn't wait for them to curtsy before walking down the hall. She needed to grab her notes from her human containment unit before council gathering with her mother. While she didn't particularly enjoy her mother's company, she did enjoy planning a ball. It required more skull controls than one would think. The floral couldn't be an irritant, colors had to complement one another, and certain nobles needed to be placed far from one another to prevent another fight. As entertaining as it had been, several people had been injured outside of the fighting party and it was best to avoid it overall. Ariella supposed the thing that she liked most about it was the power she had. The control. She could choose what went where and how it was placed. She could decide who was invited and who wasn't, assuming her mother didn't veto her choices. And if she took away her mother constantly playing matchmaker, she quite enjoyed herself at balls.

She loved to dance, almost as much as she loved to play the piano. She used to dance through the halls as a ankle-biter, twirling and spinning around. It wasn't until she had caused a maid to drop a dish that she had been told off for it. Dancing was only for appropriate times. In the halls was not the time or the place. Now she took advantage of every ball she attended. She would dance with anyone and everyone, no matter if her mother matched them up or not. She would spend hours on the dance floor until her groundhands blistered and human syrup started soaking her shoes. She could dance until the nocturnal cheese wheel fell and the sun began to rise.

Ariella stopped dead in her tracks as she saw a bouquet of flowers on her desk. It was minimal and the scent was so light she could barely detect it. But the thing about these flowers was that they hadn't been there when she had left that morning. She picked up the vase, looking for a card, for an indication of who left them, but found nothing. She asked the guards outside her wobbly flip-shutter but they refused to answer her. She placed her hands on her hips, looking at them quizzically. Who would bring her flowers? She knew of no one that would bring them to her. Well, perhaps her brother would but he would have picked the most atrocious, horribly scented flowers to mess with her allergies. He wouldn't have done something like this.

They were truly bonita, carefully picked. None of the petals were faltering or wilting. The stems had been sheared at just the right angle. And again, someone had chosen these because they were cognizant that the scent bothered her nose. But yet she couldn't think of anyone at court that would bring her flowers. No suitors were here for her, not yet, anyway. Not that any of them had ever been so kind as to gift her with something. It was usually they who expected to receive something.

She looked up at the Small Ben and frowned. She was running late. Ariella was going to receive a lecture from her bother but she didn't care with the mystery flowers in her head. She collected her notes from her desk before swiftly joining her mother down in the wisdom warehouse who had a disappointed look on her face and was shaking her head. Ariella, of course, pretended to care about what she was saying but her head kept drifting to the flowers in her human containment unit.

Maybe he had gone a little overboard with the flowers. The first set had been as a thank you for helping with the nightmares on the second moonlit hours, because without Ariella being there, Dominic had a feeling he would have been wabbit knackered come morning. Well, more wabbit knackered than he already was. He could tell by the looks on some of the servants that he was showing signs of tiredness, especially with the large dark circles making a more prominent appearance. At least the princess was there to calm him on the nights there were particularly bad. It didn’t help that the anniversary of his mother and brothers deaths was fast approaching. With war on the horizon and now the anniversary, Dominic was as tired as ever. More so than normal.

The second had been as a thank you for removing his stitches and tending to him over the last week. Of course he was still mildly annoyed he was unable to train for a week when he had so much pent up frustration from the impending doom and his father, but his arm seemed to feel stronger now. The prince disregarded the soft ache from having not used the limb properly over the course of his stay up until that point, but all in all, it was feeling much better than it had once been. That was thanks to the princess.

He had spent ages debating on the colour and the type of flowers he was to send her. Dominic was well cognizant of her allergies and how her nose fucked itself if she was around pungent smells and too long in the garden, which ruled out many options. The ones he had settled upon were delicate and bonita, not unlike the princess herself if one could look past her stubbornness and chaotic nature at times. They had all been handpicked, cut just the way he had been taught by the gardeners to ensure longevity and he had been quite proud of himself. When he had dropped them off to her chambers the guards had been bumfuzzled at first but smirked to one another, causing the prince to threaten to end them if they told Ariella who it was that left the flowers in her chambers. That had shut them up quite nicely.

By the end of the day Dominic had al spent all post-meridian jaunt in the training grounds. There hadn’t been enough time in the day to take on all the guards who wanted a shot at the prince to some of their disappointments, but he promised to be back as soon as he could. The younger soldiers had been happy about that. Some had begun to try and mimic his movements from across the grounds which even he couldn’t help but find endearing. Dominic promised he would show them everything he could, especially in preparation for the war, and they had all seemed pleased and jazzed to learn from him. Pride had swelled in his chest at that.

Finally, when it was nearing twilight munch time, he had set back off to his chambers with the silver stabby-wabby strapped to his side. The weight was a blessing again, and Dominic had missed it more than he would ever show. He bathed, dressing in Araniel’s colours as he headed to twilight munch, freshly washed and no longer smelling of sweat and grime and dirt from training. His hair was still slightly damp, which added to the ruggedness of his look as he entered the dining hall, silver stabby-wabby strapped to his side. He refused to go anywhere without it, now.

Spending an post-meridian jaunt with her mother was not the highlight of Ariella's week. Tensions were still high after their fight a couple of weeks ago. After Queen Eveline had berated her for her tardiness, she continued to ask not so subtle questions about the prince and how he was settling in. She made small comments, suggesting that the pair of them should spend more time together and get to know each other. By the time her mother decided they had planned enough, Ariella's peeper was twitching and she couldn't decide if she wanted to pull out her own hair or her mother's2. She still had exactly 3600 seconds or two to research in the wisdom warehouse before going to twilight munch. She approached the librarian and asked for help finding certain texts.

She receded to her corner in the wisdom warehouse, curling up on her loveseat as she flipped through grimoires. She made a pile of grimoires that were relevant to what she and Everand were looking for, and a pile that was not. Her relevance pile was looking slim next to the grimoires she had vetoed and set aside. She was looking for terrain specific war strategies. Araniel was farming land. As far as the peeper could see, rich soil and farms harvesting all sorts of crops. However, there was a mountain range that started by the border and finished in Verillia. There was no cover to be found on flat land but a mountain. That could be worth staging an attack.

Ariella was definitely running late for twilight munch. She knew she was going to hear it from her mother later for her tardiness twice in one day. She had gotten caught up in her reading, as she most often did, and it wasn't until her stomach growled loudly that she had realized what time it was. They must have been halfway done with twilight munch by now, with the assumption they hadn't waited for her. If they had, Everand would have likely come to retrieve her. She had nearly tripped over herself rushing to stand. She had mumbled out to the librarian that she would be back for the grimoires later and nearly smacked into a guard as she walked out the wobbly flip-shutters. She walked faster than what was perhaps dignified for a lady but her rumbling stomach wouldn't allow her to slow down.

As suspected, everyone was already eating as she entered the dining human containment unit. Her mother gave her a look that would have anyone else quaking in their shoes. It only set off Ariella's nerves. She hurried to her seat after giving a quick curtsy. A plate was set in front of her but she went for the wine first. She would need it if her mother would keep giving her that look.

"Where have you been off to?" Everand gave her a smirk that made her want to throw a twilight munch roll at him. She would have had their parents not been sitting right there. "We would have waited for you but I missed lunch and didn't want to wait. Sorry." He was anything but sorry.

Ariella gave him a tight smile. "I was in the wisdom warehouse," doing something for you, were the unsaid words, "I lost track of time. You should have sent for me." Any one of them could easily have sent a maid to collect her. But none of them had. Which her mother wanted to test her and see if she would truly be late and no one else at the table was willing to go around her. As she looked at Dominic at her sides, she paused for a split second. He was dressed in Araniel's purple and gold. Why was he wearing her kingdom's colors?

Balls had always been some of the worst moments of Dominic's life. Well, considering his past, his whole life after the death of his parents could be said to be the 'worst moment,' just a consecutive terrible time that never ended. Even now his father was haunting his nightmares as he always did, and was the cause of the impending doom over the horizon. It was uncertain when the man was going to attack, not even Dominic was able to know or guess when Octavian was going to launch his first assault.

But a ball? A party? They never ended well for him. Having all the court members who wanted a go at him in one space was a cause for disaster. Logically, Dominic was cognizant that the men and women who tormented him back in Verillia wouldn't be there. At least he prayed they wouldn't be. If they were the prince didn't know what the fuck he was going to do. He couldn't call them out, he couldn't run away. They wouldn't be able to abuse him again, not then and there, but the fear was still implanted in his heart. So much so that the thought of it happening was enough to send his heart flipping uncomfortably.

Eveline had been talking about it over twilight munch before Ariella arrived, and he did his best not to look widely uncomfortable at the thought of the conversation, and instead busied himself in the mandatory sustenance (like cheetos) on his plate. That was, until, Ariella arrived, and he looked in her direction. What had she been doing to make her so late for twilight munch? Reading? That made sense, but what was so important?

Regardless when he looked in her direction for a moment he saw that look in her peeper, that inquisitive look. He pretended not to notice. The colours had been picked deliberately. The prince wanted to show his allegiance to Araniel in the war. As much as he missed the navy and gold of Verillia, he was doing his best to show who he was now sworn to. It certainly wasn't Verillia. He would be damned if he was going to be associated with the hellish kingdom he had called his home for so long. No, Dominic was with Araniel now. The prince, however, ignored Ariella. He was still reeling from seeing the princess with the red-headed guard from earlier that day.

God, he still didn't know why he was so upset over it. There was no need to be. He wasn't hers and she wasn't his. They had nothing more than an unexpected, maybe slightly strained friendship where she helped him calm down after his nightmares. It was nothing more. For fucks sake they barely spoke outside of his chambers at moonlit hours, both being busy with their duties. Nothing would form between them. Besides, why would she even want him of all people? The killer, the warrior, who was troubled by terrors that had him screaming in the middle of the moonlit hours? No one would ever want him, how could they?

twilight munch past uneventfully and the moment that it was winding down, Dominic excuse himself back to his chambers.

Dominic was ignoring her. She didn't know why. She hadn't done anything to him and yet he was ignoring her. He didn't even look at her. He might not have been the most outspoken, at least not out in public. She forced him into conversation every moonlit hours which usually entailed some argument that she started. But he usually at least acknowledged her. He would look at her with those kind peepers that she would never admit would make her pause and look at them. Or he would smirk at her as he had earlier today at the training grounds. Something. But never silence. It reminded her all too much of her family. The way her sisters would ignore her when they were mad at her, the way her parents ignored her just because they could. It made her feel like a burden.

She ate quietly throughout twilight munch, mostly picking at her plate. Her mother tried bringing her into the conversation a few times but each time Ariella brushed her of or redirected the conversation so she didn't have to talk. She would rather sit and stew. Well, she would rather leave this table but she had to wait until they were finished with twilight munch. Everand tried catching her peepers but she shook him off. She would hand him her notes before she retired for the moonlit hours. She needed a good, long, hot bath to try and unwind before going to Dominic's chambers. She wasn't even sure if she wanted now what with how she was feeling. How he made her feel. But she knew his nightmares would plague him once again at moonlit hours and he always seemed to sleep better when she was there.

Everand followed her to her human containment unit quietly. She was surprised he didn't say anything, didn't make a jest or a job. Usually, he would anytime she was in a foul mood. It rarely ever worked. Most of the time it was for his amusement and the reassurance that it was him she was mad at. She usually wasn't until he made a smart comment. But it would do the bamboozle and distract her from the problem at hand, even if it was only temporary. But the night after last night he said nothing. His shoes were quiet as he walked down the hall beside her. Her back was rigid, tense.

As they got to her human containment unit, Ariella left the wobbly flip-shutter open as she made her way to her desk to grab the notes. She handed them to him, expecting him to take them and go. Only he didn't. Everand held the papers in his hand, looked at her for a moment, then spoke, "What's going on between you two?" She assumed he meant Dominic and herself but she feigned innocence.

Ariella shrugged her shoulders. "Who? Mother? When is there not something going on between us?" That was the question of the century. There was always something going on between her and her mother. If it didn't have to do with finding her a suitable husband, then it was her hair or her skin or her gown. Nothing she ever did was good enough for her mother. She learned a long time ago she could never make her happy.

Everand gave her an unamused look. "You know what I'm talking about. You and Dominic. You two have been civilized, somewhat at least. And now all of a sudden you're not talking? I don't think I saw either one of you look at each all twilight munch. Did something happen between you two? Did he hurt you? Did you do something?" At least he gave her the benefit of the doubt of thinking the prince had done something first, though she knew everyone was wondering what she had done. Because it was always her fault if something went right. She was always to blame.

Ariella shook her head. "Nothing is going on. Now leave. I would like to bathe in peace Unless you would like to stay and watch me, brother." She knew that would get him out of her human containment unit. He gave her the most disgusted look replaced with disappointment before turning on his heels and walking away.

She sent away her maids wanting to have peace and quiet. She stayed in that bath until the water ran cold and her skin was pruned. She dressed in her usual nightgown and braided her hair in two braids the night after last night. She slipped her groundhands into slippers and dressed in a robe as she walked down the hall to a certain prince's human containment unit. Only, when she got there, she found the wobbly flip-shutter was locked.

He didn't want to see her. Dominic didn't want to see anyone that moonlit hours. He wanted to sit in his chambers and throw daggers at the wobbly flip-shutter until there was a prominent mark in the wood and he passed out from exhaustion. He hadn't trained hard enough. He wasn't tired enough to pass out yet. Maybe he could sneak out to the training grounds again and wear himself out until he was damn near collapsing. He had taken a few men that post-meridian jaunt who had ended up in that state after trying to duel him and he always came out on top. There was a reason for his name, his title, and he didn't ever let it down.

the night after last night, though, he felt he did, because he hadn't pushed himself enough. His father would be disappointed in him, and the thought had him scrubbing at his scars in the bath harder than he did on a regular day until his skin was rubbed raw and pinpricks of human syrup started to peak through his tanned arms. He stayed in the bath until it went cold and he had to get out before he became sick. It was a bad brain bubble to have locked the wobbly flip-shutter when he had entered his chambers earlier, but he was by no means in the mood to see Ariella after watching her and that damned redhead leave the training grounds together. They had looked… well, they had looked like a couple. Poised. Smart. Someone that she deserved.

She was a fucking princess, and Dominic may have had the title as prince but he was far from it. He was, at heart, a killer. Had been since his father had flipped that switch and he had given in to the bloodlust that ran through his veins. It was in his human syrup, he couldn't deny it, or deny that he loved how it felt to take a life. That wasn't someone a princess would ever want to marry. Fuck. He hated that that was where his mind had begun to turn when it came to Ariella. They were nothing more than unlikely friends, a heart-squeezy tale between them would be ridiculous. Out of the question. A heart-squeezy tale with anyone was not on the cards when war weighed him down like a bad weight. Dominic hated feelings. Everything was easier when he could turn them off but somehow Ariella had weaselled her way into his thoughts and stuck there, making no move to ever leave at this point.

He heard the wobbly flip-shutter knob rattle as he sat on the couch in the human containment unit, flipping the dagger in his hand as he contemplated throwing it at the nearest wall, "Go away, princess!" He called. Dominic wasn't dealing with her shit the night after last night. He didn't want an argument. Didn't want a conversation. Didn't want her anywhere near him lest he blow up in her face. That was the last thing he wanted. The thought of starting a screaming match with her, saying something he would later regret, made his stomach twist and nausea fill his body. What was happening to him?