The Andalusian prince will be here any day and I can't stop thinking of my mother. She was sold into marriage the way most of us are. Except her husband was a King. And Kings, as well all know far too well, are often cruel. I cry for her often. For the girl she used to be. The woman she could have been. The woman I could have been if I had known her. Im sorry, Ennie. I don't mean to get emotional. I just. I don't want to be my mother. There are things more important than marriage alliances.
The ballroom was sparkling, bright with the magical fireflies that hovered overhead like tiny, shifting stars and candles lined the tables, laden with a feast fit for kings. And it was, Enzo supposed, squeezing the pommel of his sword absently as he took in the opulent sight before him.
The castle had pulled out all the stops for the visiting dignitaries, a royal ball in the prince’s honour. It made Enzo uneasy to know he was here, and the reason why he was here. The missives professed the visit was to discuss an alliance to battle the rising threat in the south but Enzo had seen the way the prince’s eyes travelled around the room, following Olivia’s every movement with hungry eyes.
It made him burn with the fire of a thousand suns.
“The only good thing about this pompous parade is the free drink and a chance to see my boy in his finery,” Ser Eoin said from beside him. Enzo spared him a short glance, surprised to see the knight dressed in finery of his own. He shouldn’t have been. No doubt the prince would have dragged him into the baths, bathed and perfumed his knight as much as he had done for himself. It was no secret the prince liked things soft and sweet, and there was no shortage of utter bafflement that the delicate prince had taken up with the rough and ready low born knight that was Ser Eoin.
It was less jarring than Enzo had expected to hear Ser Eoin refer to the prince as his boy, however. He watched the crowd swell and shift, beautifully dressed men and women flowing with the music in intricate dances, tittering behind jewelled fingers and making barbs behind flowery prose. There was only one face he wanted to see, and he sought her out on the floor, his heart aching at the sight of her bright eyes, her dark hair flowing over one shoulder, leaving the lines of her shoulder and her arm exposed. The tattoo depicting her royal linage snaked along her dark skin, glowing faintly with an enchanted magic, leaving no doubt as to who she was or where she belonged.
Like the delicate circlet upon her head wasn’t enough.
She was smiling as she danced, and Enzo found no small measure of comfort to see she stuck close to her brother and her guardians. She danced with the regent, twirled with the archduke, laughed with her brother the prince and every time she looked up and their eyes met across the room, Enzo’s chest clenched.
And then it had happened.
Enzo had been watching the crowd for threats, watching hands and mouths and anyone who dared to get too close. And the Andalusian prince was not a young man, under the yoke of a King who refused to give up his throne to a son heading towards his middle years. He eyed Olivia like she was a prized heifer to breed, and not like the soft, beautiful, compassionate princess she was.
The old prince approached Olivia, still leaning against her uncle’s side and her laugh faded the instant the prince bowed to her. The mask that settled across her features was familiar. The same one she wore for her official engagements. No longer Olivia, soft and sweet and daring, but the Princess – cool and calm and ready to tackle the duties that sat on her shoulders as a future ruling monarch with grace and poise like she had been trained.
Part of Enzo was grateful for that, that the foreign prince wouldn’t be privy to the true princess underneath. Whatever else happened, at least Enzo could take comfort in that.
They started to dance and the prince’s hands stayed within the boundaries of propriety. Barely.
“Easy now,” Ser Eoin murmured from beside him, picking up on Enzo’s simmering rage without effort. “It’s innocent.”
“Is it?” Enzo snapped harshly, unable to stop himself rounding on the knight. Sir Eoin’s eyes flashed vivid blue in warning and his jaw clenched. Enzo stiffened instantly, sucking in a breath before settling back into his watchful stance. They weren’t there to be lovers that night. That night they were there to protect the ones they loved from potential threats, the only reason why Ser Eoin wasn’t currently wrapped around his prince, drinking spiced wine and smoking va’kai.
They couldn’t ignore the rumours.
“Yer do her no favours if you barge in there now,” Eoin told him and Enzo found himself gripping the pommel of his sword even harder. “Believe me, I ken it’s not easy. Look at my boy over there. Do ye think it’s easy to watch them fawn over him?”
Enzo glanced to where the prince was surrounded by a gaggle of pretty youths, both high born lads and ladies. Luca smiled, laughed, smoothed down the thin gossamer robes of his outfit and fiddled with the heavy jewels about his person. One hand kept going to the diamond encrusted choker at his neck, nestled under the high collar until only a glimpse of it remained. Enzo found himself jealous, wishing he could have given the princess a similar promise that she could wear in view of all those who ventured close to her.
As though sensing their eyes on them, the prince looked up, but it wasn’t Enzo he saw.
Eoin’s small murmur of satisfaction seemed to carry across the room when the prince’s gaze went dark and his chin lifted, his eyes locked with those of his knight.
Enzo looked away, one again seeking out the princess and the foreign, pompous prince that was trying to lead her around the room. Enzo still burned so deep in his veins.
He willed her silently to look at him, to notice him, to see his heart in her eyes.
She looked up and stepped away from the prince, holding him at bay with one hand and motioning at Enzo with the other.
Enzo was at her side in a heartbeat.
“Highness,” he said softly, ignoring the prince. “Are you in need?”
“Yes, Ser Enzo,” she smiled and delicately wiped at her brow. “I fear I need some air lest I faint from all this dancing. Would you be so kind as to accompany me to the gardens?”
“Why a knight,” the prince interjected, taking Olivia’s arm, preparing to lead her away. Enzo took one look at his hand on her skin and hissed under his breath.
The prince froze, as though he wasn’t sure he could believe the words he had just heard.
“You dare speak to me in such a way?”
Enzo didn’t answer, but his face stayed hard, vaguely threatening. Olivia stepped closer to him and the Prince sneered with a toss of his head.
“You are as violent and as uncouth as those Morrisini savages in the east,” the prince snapped. “I should have your head for this rudeness.”
“You will not,” Olivia retorted. “Ser Enzo has been by side for years. He is a trusted companion and knight to both my uncle, my lord regent and myself. He is as worthy of respect as much as myself or my brother-“
“Preposterous,” the prince scoffed. He looked Enzo up and down with a curl of his lip. Then he looked slyly at the princess. “I see why you might keep him around though,” he whispered lowly, leaning in so that no one else heard their exchange.
To her credit, Olivia’s expression didn’t change.
When the prince leaned back, Olivia’s spine was stiff and her voice tight.
“Ser Enzo, take me to the gardens if you please. Suddenly I am feeling most unwell.”
The prince caught them before they could escape into the night completely.
“Liv? What’s wrong, are you alright?”
Olivia let him hug her tightly. “I am now, but please tell Isaac and Uncle Mason that I won’t be returning.”
Luca barely glanced at Enzo, knowing without a shadow of a doubt she was safe with him. Enzo appreciated that. He appreciated the prince’s support as much as he did that of the prince’s lover.
“I’ll tell them. You put in an appearance, that’s all Isaac wanted. You know he has no intention of entertaining that asshole’s offer.”
Olivia looked troubled. “What if he withdraws his support?”
“Then we’ll find another way. Like I promised we would.”
The voice came out of the darkness, followed by the Lord Regent stepping into the small circle of light spilling out onto the balcony from the ballroom. His husband, the archduke, was close behind. “I swore I wouldn’t sell you off, Olivia. I mean that. There’s nothing the prince can offer us that we don’t already have.”
Olivia bit her lip then let go of her brother’s hands to throw her arms around the regent’s neck. She clung to him tightly and he returned the hug with equal fervour. Enzo admired the Regent for the love of his charges. He was more than the lord regent to them, he was their father too.
His eyes flicked to Luca, eyes the shame shade of dark earth, and wondered when the prince would realise the truth everyone else seemed to read so clearly.
“Thank you, Isaac,” she said as she stepped back. Luca melted away, back into the bright ballroom and into the arms of the knight that waited for him by the doorway and the regent and his husband followed close behind.
When it was just himself and the princess once again, Enzo reached for her hand.
“I wanted to carry you out of there when he touched you,” he whispered, holding her delicate fingers to his lips. She shivered as his breath coasted over her knuckles. “I wanted to rip his heart out and eat it while it was still pulsing and I wanted him to watch me do it while he bled out on the floor.”
Her eyes were wide in the moonlight. “Ennie…”
He wasted no more time, scooping her up in his broad arms, the silky material of her elegant dress trailing behind as he carried her down the stone steps and into the gardens. He could have taken her back into the castle, led her through the halls and back to her chambers for her ladies in waiting to undress her and bathe her and ready her to fall asleep alone, but he needed to be with her. He needed to bury himself in her soft warmth and hear her moan underneath him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and gazed up at him adoringly. “The temple?” she asked softly and he nodded once, just a jerk of his head. She smiled and laid her head against his chest as he carried her through the fragrant gardens and into the silent, moon illuminated abode of the gods, where the marble temple stood alone and quiet, lit only by the bioluminescent plant life that surrounded it.
He lowered her to her feet in the centre of the small, circular sanctuary and cupped her face as he kissed her.
“I love you,” he whispered into her mouth, all the hungry desperation he had been trying so hard to hold at bay clawing below the surface of his skin. “I love you so much, I would die for you, I would kill for you. You, Olivia. I am consumed by you, I am utterly yours in this life and in the next-“
“Ennie,” she cried, her smaller hands curling around the back of his neck as she pressed into him. He wrapped his big arms around her, desperate to be close and frustrated by the thick, gilded material of his doublet and the heavy belt holding his scabbard on his hips. “Make love to me. Please Ennie.”
He groaned low, releasing her only to tug frantically at his clothes until he remained in his silk shirt and unlaced pants. He pushed up her skirts, bunching the silky material around her hips and greedily hunting for her folds, groaning again when he found her bare and slick and already so ready for him.
“I need you, princess,” he rasped. “I need to be inside you.”
There was only her wild, keening gasps as he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, greedily nipping and kissing and thrusting her tongue into his mouth even as he lined them up. His hard, leaking tip brushed against her hot folds and he moaned without shame at the way it felt to have her slowly sinking down on him.
She clutched at his shoulders, head thrown back and chanting his name like a prayer. “Ennie, Ennie, Ennie, oh, gods. Oh gods, I love you.”
He grew impatient. Desperate. He hoped she would forgive him his greed as he grasped her hips and slammed her lithe body down onto him in one swift movement. She gasped, keened, whimpered as he wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her close, unwilling to let her move even as he ground into her as deeply as he could.
And the same, now familiar sensation washed over him. “This is where I belong,” he whispered through hoarse breaths. He held her as she sobbed weakly into the side of his neck. “This is where you belong. No one else will have you like this but me.”
theartofmadeline
tangentwithtanner
snowghoul
