written for today's @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt: one more chance
relationship: Jayce Talis/Mel Medarda
rating: G (word count: 1,077)
summary: a runaway knight and a queen in the midst of war. A chance at deliverance
The ache in the cavity of Jayce's chest threatened to tear him from the inside out. Breath shallow by that and the slim possibility he'd suffocate under the burlap sack. Clumps of hair, damp, clung to his forehead.
So far everything had gone to plan, though he hadn't thought much on the rough nature of these soldiers getting a few rounds with him before turning him into their queen. The bag over his head was also excessive in his opinion, but he held his tongue, lest they take it.
A dense grunt burst in his chest, escaping gracelessly as he was tossed to the ground. He already had bruises dectorating his rib cage and hip bones, what's two more on his knees?
The light above was blinding and he flinches, narrowing his eyes until they could adjust. His jaw went slack.
The opulence of the throne room paled in comparison to the one who sat high on the throne. A crown that looked like sunrays decorated elegantly laid locs.
"State your business," she commanded.
The queen's exposed shoulders were adorned with gold tattoos designed not too dissimilar to the paladins of his own armor he abandoned shy of a week ago. When she adjusted her posture, tucking one ankle behind the other, the hem of her dress followed accordingly, moving as water.
A blunt jab at his back startled him to his current predicament. "Y-Yes?" he stuttered.
She chuckled lightly, though it lacked mirth. "If you had any intention on assassinating me, bringing a dagger would not hae been sufficient for the task."
"Oh?" Elegant brows lifted at the reply and she rested her chin in her hand. "Then pray tell, why you, a knight of the Artashe Kingdom, would tresspass enemy soil if not for assassination?"
The beatings in his chest quickened, travelling higher and higher until they breeched his throat, threatening to suffocate him there on the spot. Jayce felt every eye in the throne room burn holes in him, especially the fierce and hardened ones of the one with royal blood. He forced the feeling down, steeling himself.
War was all he'd known. For generations such had been the case. Jayce had always done what was instructed of him— that was his duty as a knight to his knight to his kingdom. But his leader… sometime… somewhere… he had lost their way. Jayce could no long in good consciousness follow theur path.
The war needed to end. And soon.
He could not do it without her help.
"Why should I trust you?"
Her tone didn't give anything way. Though it did make him acutely aware of the dryness and subsequent split of his lower lip. His tongue poked out to wet it.
"You can't," he finally admitted. "While there is information of vlaue I can offer you to help in accelerating this war's conclusion, I know it is a risk to you. And so—" he started, hands clutching at his linen underpants, heavily dirt-stained by the journey of his defection. "I offer you this—" and he bowed low, the thick tresses of his hair sweeping his ears along the way.
At the humble gesture, she regarded him. For a long while no one moved.
Not the Queen's aide and personal guard.
And not the rest of her audience.
The sweat started to run down the grooves of his spine and the back of his neck felt searing hot. Should he try to touch it, he imagined he'd burn himself. But he hold still, waiting.
"Alcetas," the Queen finally said.
There was a gruff yes in response.
Jayce fought a cold flinch as he imagined the weight of a long sword being transferred from guard to queen.
And inevitably, to his neck.
Before that, though, he felt icy steel resting underneath his chin.
"Raise your head," she said firmly, all the while coaxing him to look upward.
He obeyed; the sheen of the blade blurred in his periphery as his eyes matched hers. Hardened by the toll of war, yet a fierce and unwavering brightness remained.
"I could kill you. Right here and now," she said coolly; almost appraisingly.
"And it would be deserved," he replied. There had been so much sacrificed. Blood and water have become inseparable, staining the earth equally.
Her eyes narrowed and angled chin tilted up sharp. "State your name."
"Jayce Talis…" She savored his name on her tongue, then sharpens. "Elora! Alcetas! Clear the room. Sir Talis and I shall commune privately and discuss the terms of his stay."
A soft gasp and grave hum from them, respectively.
The soldiers who turned Jayce in start; one of them opening and closing his mouth as a fish starved for air.
"You doubt my judgement?" she barked.
He stiffened straight, then fell to one knee. The other followed suit. "Of course not, your Highness," he said.
"Never, my Queen," the other echoed.
Only when the room finally cleared did Jayce take it as a sign to stand. "I promise to not disappoint, Queen Medarda."
He is suddenly overwhelmed by a light spirit and something close to secular salvation, her presence a breath away. "I know. For you have no choice but to follow through."
Long after the sun disappeared into the horizon, Mel rolled over from under the sheets resting her head on top of a firm chest. A hand travelled lazily down the side of a core strong yet soft and she frowned.
A large hand covered hers, bringing the inside of her wrist to his lips. "It's only makeup," Jayce whispered.
"And stubborn to come off," she mutttered. "Removing your shirt was also not in the script."
He shrugged before wrapping his arms around her, bringing her even closer. "Improvisation was always on the table."
"Frightening work today," he praised, kissing her forehead. "Though I can't help but wonder—"
Mel craned her neck up to him.
"Channeling that performance," he continued. "It couldn't have come from anything… personal, now could it?"
The bright laugh bursting from Mel illuminated the darkness of their bedroom. When it settled, she kissed him fiercely on the lips. "Come now, darling, all that matters is we made it on the other side." A brief peck for good measure and she rolled off him towards her side of the bed. "Goodnight, Jayce, we have the river scene tomorrow."
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